Reading about one of the saints of the day — Monk Philip of Rabangsk (and no, that’s not a typo. It really is ‘Rabangsk’) — I saw the following lines:

Philip was said to be extremely strict with himself and lenient towards the faults of others. He died peacefully…

I know that saying that a saint died peacefully is just a way of saying that they weren’t martyred. But there’s still something about the first sentence that leads one to believe the second was true. Someone who would have the grace to apply themselves unsparingly to ascetic labor and yet still be merciful and not condemn others for their weaknesses would, I think, die peacefully.

It’s like the story from the Desert Fathers that Fr. Thomas Hopko recounted in one lecture I heard. The story went something like this:

A monk who was notorious in the monastery for his lack of self-discipline was sick and on his deathbed. The other monks were astonished that he exhibited a saintly tranquility as the end drew near, and they asked him, “How can you have such peace? You haven’t fasted and prayed and kept vigil and labored as you should have!”

The monk answered them, “I have peace for one reason: I never judged anyone.“

And the other monks had nothing to say.

It’s a good thing to reflect upon as we enter into the Nativity fast. It’s a difficult thing to fast sometimes. But always so much harder, it seems, to be tough on yourself and yet not consider it your business to see if others are fasting as much as you are, or more, or less.

My rule of thumb is this: I need to make it as hard as I can for myself without giving any place to the spirit that would sit in judgment if I were to see my brother or sister — or even my priest or bishop — eating a cheeseburger. If I would let someone else’s fast, or the lack thereof, rob me of peace and give me Phariseeism in its place, I might as well order a cheeseburger for myself. At least that way, I’ll know I’m a sinner.

Fasting is hard, or at least it’s supposed to be. Getting the fast right is much harder, and I’m not really sure whether I’ve gotten it right so far. (I suppose I could ask my priest to show up sometime eating a cheeseburger, just so I can put it to the test?) But it’s good work, the right kind of work. The kind that lets you join the ranks of saints like Monk Philip and die peacefully.