Prayer, the soul’s breath, and fasting, the soul’s hunger for God—these two disciplines formed the very heartbeat of early Christian devotion. Across the theological spectrum—from the mystic Alexandrians to the pragmatic North Africans—prayer and fasting were seen not as optional acts of piety but as indispensable means of communing with the divine and conforming to the image of Christ.
Prayer as the Christian’s Daily Offering
Among the early Christians, there was no disagreement about the necessity of prayer. It was regarded as the pulse and thermometer of the spiritual life—a visible measure of one’s inward vitality in Christ. The apostolic fathers, apologists, and theologians alike—whether animated by the realism of Africa or the idealism of Alexandria—spoke with one voice on this subject.
Tertullian saw in prayer the Christian’s daily sacrifice, the living altar upon which faith kindled its fire. Prayer, for him, was not an occasional exercise but the very bulwark of belief, the sword against temptation, and the balm for persecution. One must not bathe nor dine, he insisted, without first praying; for the refreshment of the soul must precede that of the body. “Prayer,” he wrote, “blots out sins, repels temptations, quenches persecutions, comforts the desponding, blesses the high-minded, guides the wanderer, calms the billows, feeds the poor, directs the rich, raises the fallen, holds up the falling, and preserves those who stand.”
Cyprian echoed this intensity, calling for prayer by day and night, as preparation for the unending adoration of heaven. Yet even he slipped into a juridical theology, casting prayer not only as supplication but also as satisfaction—a meritorious offering to placate divine justice.
Unceasing Communion: The Alexandrian Vision
In contrast to the more legalistic tone of the African theologians, Clement of Alexandria offered a mystical view. He envisioned the entire life of a true Christian as a seamless act of prayer. “In every place he will pray,” wrote Clement, “though not openly before the crowd. In his walks, his conversations, his silences, his reading, his labor—in all he prays.” Even the quiet sigh within the chamber of the soul reaches the attentive ear of the Father.
Origen too, with his vast learning and contemplative spirit, exalted prayer as the vital key to unlocking Scripture’s inner meaning. No matter how expansive his theological knowledge, he considered prayer the gateway to divine understanding and the means by which the Spirit illumines the heart.
Sanctified Hours: Appointed Times for Prayer
Though prayer was seen as a continuous inward disposition, the order of daily life required regular moments of intentional devotion. Christians generally retained the Jewish custom of fixed prayer times, lifting their hearts to God at the third, sixth, and ninth hours—9 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m.—which also coincided with the Passion of Christ: His crucifixion, death, and descent from the cross. The cockcrow and the still hour of midnight likewise summoned the faithful to pray.
These moments of private devotion were joined with communal intercessions. Christians prayed not only for themselves but for the entire Church, for the suffering and sick, for rulers and kings, and even for enemies and persecutors. Polycarp urged the Philippians to intercede for all saints, for authorities, and for those who hated and opposed them. Tertullian boldly proclaimed that Christians prayed even for emperors and magistrates, for social peace, and for the postponement of the world’s end—prayers both transcendent and politically subversive in their breadth.
Structured Devotion and the Lord’s Prayer
Though spontaneous prayer was treasured as the soul’s natural outpouring, it was often accompanied by structured forms—concise and memorable expressions of devotion that could be internalized and repeated with ever-renewed fervor. Tertullian’s mention of ex pectore (from the heart) and sine monitore (without prompter) should not be taken as arguments against pre-composed prayers. Just as a beloved psalm or hymn can stir fresh emotion with each recitation, so too a memorized prayer may arise authentically from the depths of the spirit.
Preeminent among these forms was the Lord’s Prayer. Its use in both domestic and congregational settings was universal and unquestioned. The Didache (ch. 8) prescribed its recital three times daily. Tertullian, Cyprian, and Origen each wrote treatises on it, hailing it as the pattern of all Christian prayer—brief yet complete, a concentrated summary of the Gospel itself. Tertullian called it the “regular and usual prayer,” the foundation upon which all other petitions rested.
Notably, its use was often restricted to baptized believers. The invocation “Our Father” presupposed a filial relationship with God, and the petition “Give us this day our daily bread” was mystically understood by some as a reference to the Eucharist, rendering it, in their view, unsuitable for catechumens.
Postures of the Heart and Body
Early Christians expressed their prayers not only in words but through physical posture. Kneeling and standing, outstretched or uplifted hands, opened or closed eyes—each gesture mirrored the soul’s disposition before God. On Sundays, standing was customary, signifying joy in the resurrection and new life. Yet there was no rigid prescription. Origen wisely emphasized the posture of the heart: when circumstances demanded, one could pray while sitting, lying down, or even engaged in work. The essence of prayer lay not in form, but in intention—lifting the soul Godward and bowing inwardly before His majesty.
Fasting: Discipline for the Soul
Fasting, often joined with prayer, was a frequent and valued discipline in the early Church. It hearkened back to Jewish tradition and apostolic example. Not as a burdensome law but as a liberating spiritual practice, fasting allowed the soul to unburden itself from earthly distractions and fix its gaze upon heavenly things.
Unlike the Pharisaic practice of fasting on Mondays and Thursdays, Christians appointed Wednesdays and especially Fridays as days of abstinence—commemorating the betrayal and crucifixion of the Lord. These were typically semi-fasts, involving abstention from meat and rich food. They were inspired by Christ’s own words: “When the Bridegroom is taken away, then shall they fast.”
Lenten and Vigil Fasts
By the second century, Christians began observing extended fasts before Easter—what would later become Lent. These Quadragesimal fasts varied in duration across different regions, ranging from forty hours to several weeks or even forty days. Such periods of self-denial were often marked by night vigils as well, taking their cue from the prayerful watchfulness of Christ and the apostles.
Though the Ember Days (Quatuor Tempora) would arise later, their Jewish roots in post-exilic fasting customs gave them a sense of continuity. Bishops also designated special fasts in response to pressing needs, often using the funds saved from meals to assist the poor—a beautiful blend of asceticism and charity.
Excesses and Warnings
Yet as with all spiritual disciplines, fasting was not immune to distortion. Legalism and hierarchical arrogance soon threatened to obscure the gospel liberty that fasting was meant to foster. Nowhere was this more evident than among the Montanists, who imposed extreme rigor. In addition to regular fasts, they observed Xerophagiae—two-week periods of subsisting on dry or uncooked food: bread, salt, and water. The Catholic Church, though respecting the sincerity of ascetics, refused to enshrine such austerities as normative.
One confessor in Lyons sustained himself solely on bread and water until a gentle rebuke reminded him that to reject the good gifts of God could wound the consciences of others. Ascetic zeal must always be tempered by love and wisdom.
The Higher Aim
Against the rising tide of overzealous asceticism, Clement of Alexandria offered a crucial reminder: “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink.” The essence of Christian holiness lay not in abstaining from wine or flesh, but in righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. Prayer and fasting, when rightly ordered, uplift the soul toward God. When distorted, they can shackle the spirit with chains Christ died to break.
