I remember the first time I truly felt the power of fasting. It was during the Bahá’í Fast, in the quiet hours before sunrise, when I woke in darkness to eat. During those still moments, I felt something unexpected: clarity. The hunger I had feared was not an enemy but a teacher. It stripped away the excess, revealing a heightened awareness, a quiet strength. Fasting was not about deprivation, but about making space – literally and symbolically.
Religious fasting has always carried a critique of the status quo. It challenges the idea that fulfilment is found in the material world. It asks us to consider the nature of our attachments and reassess what we truly need. It’s no accident that many of history’s great thinkers – Mahatma Gandhi, Simone Weil, and Nelson Mandela – used fasting not just as a spiritual discipline but as a means for stripping away illusion and encountering a deeper truth.
In 2025, for the first time in decades, three major religious traditions – Christianity, Islam, and the Bahá’í Faith – will observe their sacred fasting periods at the same time. Lent, Ramadan, and the Bahá’í Fast will coincide, aligning billions of people in a collective act of self-discipline, spiritual reflection, and renewal. This rare intersection is more than a mere calendar anomaly. It’s an opportunity to reconsider the role of faith in our modern world, a moment to ask whether religion – so often dismissed as outdated – still holds something essential for our human experience.
Despite the predictions of its demise, religion remains a powerful driver of human behaviour, shaping societies in ways that cannot be ignored. While some see religion as an agent of division, it is worth considering how it continues to provide meaning, ethical direction, and a sense of belonging in an era of uncertainty.
The overlapping fasts of 2025 invite us to move beyond the narrow debates that often dominate discussions about religion. Instead of asking whether faith is relevant, we might ask: What is it about religious practice that endures? Why do billions of people still find in it a source of strength and purpose? The answers may not be simple, but are worth exploring. The reality is that religion, at its best, calls people to something higher – towards self-discipline, care for others and the pursuit of justice.
We live in a time of information overload, constant distraction and an ever-accelerating demand for more – more entertainment, consumptionand productivity. It makes sense then that there is something deeply human about setting aside excess, and choosing to slow down.
Even though we are more connected than ever before, many feel increasingly isolated. We have more choices, more abundanceand more convenience, yet anxiety and dissatisfaction continue to rise. Perhaps this is why fasting still speaks to something essential. In the act of letting go – of food, habits and distractions – there is a possibility of rediscovering something we have lost.
Fasting is not just a personal or spiritual exercise – it is also a profoundly social one. Across traditions, fasting is tied to a deepened awareness of justice, a call to compassion and a recognition of human interconnectedness. During Ramadan, charitable giving increases as Muslims are encouraged to act in solidarity with the poor. In Christianity, Lent is traditionally associated with almsgiving and acts of service, while the Bahá’í Faith teaches that fasting should be accompanied by reflection on justice and service to humanity.
I have seen first-hand how fasting changes our relationship with the world around us. When I was pregnant with my first child, I discussed with a group of friends, who were also either pregnant or breastfeeding, how we were going to observe the fast without giving up food. We turned our focus to our relationship with technology. For 19 days, instead of scrolling on our phones, we committed to grabbing a prayer book instead. We all reflected that those weeks felt different – deeper, less hurried. There was a slowness to it that felt unfamiliar yet profoundly necessary. The experience taught me that fasting is not just about what we give up, but about what we gain in return.
In an era of widening inequality, where millions suffer from malnutrition while others waste food on an industrial scale, fasting is an urgent reminder of the ethical dimensions of consumption. It reminds us that meaning is not found in unchecked indulgence but in conscious living – to step outside ourselves and to reflect on the needs of others.
The year will no doubt continue to face its share of challenges: political upheaval, environmental crises and social unrest. But in the quiet discipline of setting aside comfort for something greater, there is a reminder that we are not merely passive participants in history. We have the ability to shape our inner lives, to choose a different way of being.
At a time when the forces of division appear stronger than ever, this convergence offers a counterpoint. The rituals of fasting, undertaken in different ways across these traditions, serve as a reminder that restraint, reflection and a deliberate turning inward are not relics of the past. They are, perhaps, more necessary now than ever. The act of abstaining from food and drink, willingly setting aside material comfort, is an ancient practice that remains profoundly relevant. It stands as a quiet resistance to the world’s relentless pace, to the culture of overconsumption and distraction that defines so much of modern life.
In this shared season of restraint and renewal, there is an opportunity to pause – to reconsider, realign and remember what truly sustains us.
-
Dr Kat Eghdamian is a human rights expert, writer, and adviser on religion, ethics and social justice. With experience working across multiple continents, she explores how faith and moral frameworks shape identity and society.
