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Something that I’ve been musing about lately is the relationship between brewing beer and doing the dishes.

At least in the circles that I run in, it seems that most men either don’t do, or resent doing, the dishes. I think that’s understandable, to an extant: doing the dishes is squarely in the category of a chore, and as such it’s tedious, unskilled work that never really comes to an end. It has to get done, whether one likes it or not, or else there won’t be any more clean dishes to use; but one may as well put it off in favor of more enjoyable activities until it becomes unavoidable. I seem to have landed somewhat outside of this camp, though, and I actually don’t mind doing the dishes. It’s a way that I can help out more around the house; its monotony gives me an opportunity to think and reflect, or enjoy an audiobook or podcast; and—feeding into my other quirks, perhaps—it helps me keep the kitchen organized and tidy.

Brewing, on the other hand, is a wonderful intersection of art and science—at least in my experience, a joy to participate in. But when you crack open the lid, when you really boil it down, brewing is mostly just… doing the dishes. The fact of the matter is that you dirty a lot of equipment during brew day that must be cleaned up, and cleaned up right away, lest your equipment become infested with mold, and, heaven forbid, eventually contaminate a batch of beer. And, so, a good portion of my brew days are actually spent cleaning things in the sink. And I don’t mind that either.

So, I’m left now pondering whether I like to brew beer in part because I don’t mind doing the dishes, or if I don’t mind doing the dishes because I like to brew beer and have gotten used to the cleaning. Does one feed into the other? Do I, at my core, enjoy the ritual of cleaning something well, and therefore find the process of brewing more enjoyable for the cleaning? Or have I, through brewing regularly, simply accepted the necessity of cleaning, and adopted the dishes as a household chore I can tackle with some level of experience?

It’s probably worth pointing out at this point that our temporary living situation does not include a dishwasher, so both brewing utensils and household dishes are being washed by hand. Perhaps there’s something about this manual contact with my work that makes cleaning less painstaking—perhaps even joyful.

I haven’t truly participated in Lent before this year. But several factors coalesced in the beginning of 2025 that led me to fast during this season.

Firstly, admittedly from a vain and human perspective, I found that, after the past holiday season and for the first time in my life, I no longer fit into my size 32 jeans. My metabolism (and probably my homebrewing hobby) had finally caught up with me and caught me off guard.

Secondly, I’ve been tangentially exploring the Orthodox church over the last couple of years, and while I still consider myself firmly in the Reformed tradition, I have found that I greatly admire the emphasis on participation in the Church calendar that exists in Orthodoxy. Lent presented the perfect opportunity to bring more of the Church calendar into my life.

Thirdly, as I began to consider fasting for the Lenten season, I determined that I wanted to fast from something that I would actually feel—giving up social media, for example, might be inconvenient or annoying for me, but wouldn’t really impact me the way that giving up food would by leaving me physically hungry. And, in fact, that’s exactly what I landed on: I chose to give up both breakfast and lunch for the full duration of Lent.

Parameters and Goals

To get specific, this is the criteria I decided on for the fast:

• No food for breakfast or lunch.
• No beverages except bulletproof coffee and water until dinnertime.
• No restrictions on food or drinks starting at dinnertime.

I had a primary goal and a secondary goal for this season:

1. For my physical hunger to draw me closer to God, particularly by using it as a signal to pray.
2. To lose the holiday weight and fit back into my size 32 jeans.

Reflections

On this twelfth day of Lent, I have some initial reflections on how this fast has affected me.

Firstly, I have been consciously trying to redirect my focus from physical hunger to prayer whenever I feel hungry throughout the day. I’ve had moderate success with this but I think I will continue to improve throughout the season as I practice this. I’m recognizing that I need to be much more intentional about my prayer.

Secondly, I have a much greater appreciation for food. Eating only one meal per day means that meal is much more satisfying and enjoyable, even if it is comprised of simple or plain foods. God could have created us to get all the nutrients we need from breathing, but instead He gave us tastebuds and the ability to enjoy the food we eat, and I’m really appreciating that gift during this time.

Thirdly, skipping meals frees up a fair amount of time. I’m still making breakfast for my wife and daughter in the mornings, but there are fewer dishes to wash afterward, and I don’t have to stop midday to make lunch and clean up from that. In effect, I have more time in the mornings before work, and fewer interruptions during the workday.

Finally, because this is only a season, this fast is quite effective at building up a sense of anticipation in me. I’m already eagerly looking ahead to Easter, if only for the feasting that entails. If this was a permanent lifestyle change, it could quickly become wearisome and discouraging; I’m grateful for the seasonality and rhythm that this introduces.

I hope that the next few weeks help me to focus more and more on Christ, and less and less on my hunger, as I attempt to shift my heart posture, both permanently and in preparation for Easter. In the meantime, as I sip the last drops of my third coffee today, I look forward to a beer and a filling dinner this evening.