On the evening of February 22, 2026, on Cheesefare Sunday, the commemoration of Adam’s expulsion (Forgiveness Sunday), His Holiness Patriarch Kirill of Moscow and All Rus’ prayed at Vespers and presided over the Rite of Forgiveness at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow. After the dismissal of Vespers, His Holiness delivered a sermon.

With this service we have entered upon the field of Great Lent. Fasting, as we all well know, is a time of self-restraint, connected with abstaining from certain foods and from various forms of entertainment. And, of course, fasting presupposes a special concentration of our attention on prayer.

Every Orthodox Christian prays in the morning and in the evening, but Lent places a particular demand on each of us—to renew our attitude toward prayer. Not merely to pronounce familiar words, but during prayer truly to turn to God, even if with the words of the prayer book and not only with our own.

For prayer establishes the connection between a person and the Lord, and there is no other connection with Him. Only prayer. Therefore, neglect of prayer is a kind of self-torment. If a person does not pray, why go to church at all? If he does not pray, why fulfill any ritual prescriptions? If there is no prayer—sincere, heartfelt, filled with faith—then everything else is “a sounding brass or a clanging cymbal” (1 Cor. 13:1), a kind of ritualism that may appeal aesthetically to someone, but is unlikely to bring benefit.

If we go to church or read prayer texts at home, it means we are participating in prayer. But prayer must not be merely the utterance of certain words. We must concentrate our attention. We must exert our strength. We must stand before the face of God—before our Judge, our merciful Father—and address Him with words that are truly important to us. For we ask Him for what is truly essential, without which life would be difficult.

Such an attitude toward prayer greatly mobilizes a person, although it can sometimes be tiring. At one time I asked the monks of Mount Athos: “You live in such difficult conditions—fasting, various restrictions—what is the hardest thing for you?” Very often I heard in reply: “The hardest thing is prayer.” And this is indeed so.

But if a person has no experience of prayer, he cannot consider himself a believer or religious. The very word “religion,” translated from Latin, means “connection”—a connection with God. And we establish this connection only through prayer. No prayer—no connection with God, no religion. Religion then remains merely a cultural or historical phenomenon, but it loses all its power. A person who does not pray calls himself a believer in vain, for how is faith expressed if there is no connection with God?

Therefore, once again let us say to ourselves: during Great Lent, whether attending services or praying at home, let us pay special attention to the quality of our prayer. There is no need, while praying, to attempt the impossible or to impose special demands upon ourselves. The most important thing is to realize clearly that we stand before God and that only prayer unites us with the Lord. If there is no prayer, there is no connection, and therefore no religious feeling.

That is what I wished to say on the eve of Great Lent, because Lent disposes us toward prayer. Most Orthodox people attend services both in the morning and in the evening, especially during the first week of Great Lent. And if people work in the morning and cannot come, they often come in the evening to pray while listening to the Canon of St. Andrew of Crete. In other words, Lent is a time when even a person who is not deeply churched considers it necessary to come to church more often, and thus to raise his prayer to God more frequently.

But there is another very important practice that helps a person change himself during Lent—abstinence. That is why the Church proposes abstinence from certain kinds of food. Someone once said to me: “What difference does it make what I eat? The important thing is not what enters me, but what comes out of me. I try not to offend people, not to say bad words—so why should anyone care whether I eat sausage or bread in the morning?” From a secular standpoint, this may seem logical. But in reality it is a great mistake, because abstinence from food is the taking upon oneself of certain obligations before God.

Of course, God does not need our fasting days—He is almighty, all-powerful, the Creator of the world. We need them. If for God’s sake we limit ourselves in the kind of food to which we are accustomed and which we enjoy, and do so not casually but with religious meaning—“This is my small sacrifice to the Lord, and I believe that He will accept it and help me draw closer to Him”—then fasting acquires true significance. Thus prayer and abstinence are means of renewing our spiritual life during Great Lent.

The Forty Days is a long period, and one cannot endure it on emotional enthusiasm alone. To maintain the discipline of Great Lent, first, we need firm conviction that this is the right way to act. And second, we must understand that even a small effort on our part—abstaining from food or attending services—is the only means that can bring us, sinful, unworthy, mistaken, bound by this earthly life, falling yet rising again, closer to our Lord and Savior. If this were not so, if fasting did not lead to such lofty goals, no one would fast. Why would they? Lent would pass, and nothing would change—perhaps things would even be worse.

Incidentally, sometimes something called “prayerful irritability” occurs, as one pious elder once told me. She lived in a monastery, and I had a spiritual conversation with her when I was still a young man. She spoke of “prayerful irritability.” I asked what she meant. She replied: “It is when a person fasts and prays, yet becomes even more irritable.” Why? Because fasting weakens physical strength, affects the nervous system, and if it is not accompanied by sincere prayer, it can provoke negative emotional reactions.

Therefore, fasting must never be separated from prayer. One must not fast while neglecting church attendance. One must not fast without reading the Word of God. Otherwise, restricting certain foods may not bring benefit but instead give rise to spiritual problems.

Prayer and abstinence from food are important factors that help a person change his way of thinking and influence his feelings. But all this is possible only when prayer and abstinence are not automatic, merely ritual actions bordering on folklore or custom. Otherwise, both fasting and prayer will bring little benefit.

While attending God’s church during Great Lent, we must ask the Lord for many things. During the long services we can also reflect on ourselves—analyze our life and our behavior. Such self-examination is very necessary for an Orthodox Christian, and it requires no third party—only you yourself before the Lord. Of course, to receive forgiveness of sins one must confess before a priest in church, but in one’s cell or room one can do much to correct one’s spiritual trajectory.

Reflection on oneself, prayer to the Lord, abstinence, repentance—all these create the best conditions for spiritual growth. Therefore, Lent is not a heavy time, not burdens laid upon a person. On the contrary, Lent helps us become better, renew our spiritual strength, draw closer to the Lord, and learn—most importantly—a different attitude toward our neighbors. To see in them those whom we should not offend, for any offense we inflict destroys the fabric of good relationships and poses a danger both to human society and to our own spiritual state. Preserving peace with those around us is no less important than observing the fast by limiting ourselves in certain foods.

Thus prayer, abstinence, and refraining from actions that harm our communion with others are the forces and means with which we must arm ourselves during Great Lent and use them so that our spiritual life—and we ourselves—may truly change for the better. May the Lord help us to pass through the field of Great Lent in prayer, in abstinence, in self-control, in the struggle against our weaknesses and spiritual ailments known only to ourselves, so that on the Bright Resurrection of Christ we may not only hear the joyful liturgical hymns, but also feel the joy of change in our own lives. Amen.