Consider this scenario.

A 60-year-old Muslim patient with diabetes makes an appointment with his physician to come up with a plan for adjustment to his usual insulin dose for the next month.

“I won’t be eating anything in the hours between dawn and dusk for the next thirty days,” he explains.

The physician reluctantly admits that it is possible, but proceeds to probe the necessity of such a change, especially for the whole thirty days.

“Of course, the best thing is to leave the dose as is,” the physician says, switching to a practiced authoritative tone reserved for such moments. “Your blood sugars are doing great. Perhaps consider taking every other day off.”

The well-meaning physician is certain that a few more such statements will steer the conversation away from making any significant changes to the patient’s insulin regimen. But, to the physician’s surprise, the patient politely refuses the compromise, stating that he wants to give it his best shot, and if a true medical reason were to come up over the course of the month, he will revisit the physician’s suggestion. [1]

As a practicing physician, I can tell you that in the months leading up to Ramadan, such a scenario is anything but uncommon. My non-Muslim colleagues are often perplexed after these patient encounters, wondering why Muslims are so adamant about observing the Ramadan fast, which requires them to abstain from any food and water from sunrise to sunset—a period of over twelve hours in most states across the United States.

In all honesty, even as a Muslim physician, I have found it difficult to answer this question in a way that truly encompasses the spiritual and emotional reasons behind why so many Muslims cannot fathom letting go of a Ramadan fast, even those who may otherwise struggle with the basic obligation of observing the five daily prayers (May God forgive us all, ameen).

As is the promise of God, when we sincerely seek, He uncovers for us the answer, often in a way that leaves us wondering how we never perceived it before. The secret of Muslims’ collective devotion to Ramadan permeates innumerable verses in the Qur’an, makes up the foundation of frequently cited Ahadith (traditions of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him), and comprises the subject matter of many famous works by the great scholars of Islam.

It is a collective devotion tethered to the feelings of peace and tranquility so many Muslims enjoy in the month of Ramadan, feelings borne out of a source that somehow becomes elusive outside of this month, and feelings that become the reason for the reluctance of Muslims everywhere to miss even a single fast.

Largely unbeknownst even to them, Muslims naturally begin tapping into this secret source of tranquility as soon as the Ramadan moon is sighted. In a flurry of excitement and newfound motivation, members of the family wash themselves for wudhu, gather the young and old alike, and drive to the masjid, ready to stand for the first taraweeh prayer with the community. Suddenly, gone are the excuses of just one night ago, when staying out to pray in the masjid past midnight seemed like a near impossibility.

And what’s more, this despite being fully aware that in only a few hours, a morning meal will need to be consumed while it’s still pitch-dark outside. Those, like myself, who aren’t used to eating anything until mid-morning, simply ignore the otherwise rock-solid inclinations and sit down for the only meal until evening.

No matter what the day’s schedule looks like, Muslims make their best efforts to perform the obligatory daily prayers at a higher level than outside of Ramadan, both in the quality of the prayers, and in the extra consideration for their prescribed times. With no meals to prepare or share, their attention automatically diverts towards other things to fill up the hours, gravitating to that scholarly lecture series a family member recommended. The scholar’s words in turn inspire recitation and reflection of the Qur’an, replacing mindless internet surfing or watching the news.

Despite a lack of sleep, food, and drink, Muslims the world over experience a sense of fullness beginning to take place that is hard to explain. It is situated above the gut and the private parts, in the center of the chest, and it is far more satiating than the fulfillment of carnal desires could ever be. This addictive tranquility of the heart is so deeply felt in the month of Ramadan that fasting believers gladly give up the comforts of a consistent schedule, undisturbed sleep, and instant gratification of bodily impulses, in exchange for humanity’s most sought-after treasure that no amount of money can buy.

What then, is the key to this treasure of tranquility, and why is it accessible only in the month of Ramadan?

For those whose hearts are ready, the answer is as simple as it gets. It is in the shunning of the inclinations of the self, battling base desires for sleep and hunger, increasing the threshold for discomfort in performing acts of worship that are pleasing to God, that Muslims discover the only currency with which tranquility can be purchased: complete obedience to the command of God, in the way most pleasing to Him.

Allah says in the Qur’an:

“O believers! Enter into Islam wholeheartedly and do not follow Satan’s footsteps. Surely, he is your enemy” (2:208)

Scholars of Tafsir have explained this verse to mean that as slaves of God, the submission required from Muslims is one that is complete, independent of reason, logic, convenience and preferences of the self, all of which can be deceptions of Satan. In the month of Ramadan, when the apparent logic against staying up late into the nights is pushed aside, preferences for eating at specific times of day are disregarded, reasons for delaying obligatory prayers in the face of a full work schedule are challenged, all for the pleasure of God alone, the key to the ultimate treasure every human being yearns for is granted to the believer.

Is this to say then that the secret of tranquility lies in the subduing of the human intellect, in conquering our ability to reason, in vanquishing our natural instincts of reflecting on the wisdom in the commands of God?

Absolutely not. It does not befit the infinitely merciful God to first bestow upon humanity the very thing that sets us apart from animals, the intellect, and then reward us for repressing its natural inclinations to think, question, and reflect. In the Qur’an, Allah (swt) Himself says:

“No soul can believe except by Allah’s will, and He places a blight on those who do not use their intellect” (10:100).

Using the intellect therefore is in itself a command of the One Who created it, a means for us to strengthen our faith by understanding the many benefits for us in the required acts of worship. For instance, the scientific community has only just begun to scratch the surface of the health benefits of fasting, benefits that wouldn’t have become apparent without using the God-given powers of the intellect, and benefits that undoubtedly deepen our commitment to fasting regularly.

This is indeed from the Mercy of the Master, that He has not imposed His laws on humanity, but rather illuminated the path to faith through the intellect. What must be recognized by the slave, however, is that the intellect itself is a creation of God, and can never surpass the perfect wisdom of the Creator Himself. With this framework, the believer escapes the predicament of conditional faith, present when the intellect agrees with revelation, absent when a clash occurs.

This is the precise position in which fasting Muslims find themselves in Ramadan when they are commanded to adopt a new, much different, daily schedule than what satisfies their own preferences and logic. It is here, at the limits of reason, that Muslims choose divine revelation over their own intellect; instead of questioning the timing of the Ramadan meals, or arguing the inconvenience of the nightly prayers, or reasoning their way out of performing the obligatory prayers whilst enduring hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep, they make the choice to submit, wholeheartedly, to the commands of God.

In return for giving up the need to satisfy the intellect at the expense of the unlimited wisdom of revelation, God hands fasting Muslims the key to unconditional tranquility, peace, and contentment of the heart.

The real question then becomes: which of us will let go of this key when the month of Ramadan ends, and which of us will guard it beyond the thirty days, striving to live up to the title of the muslim—one who surrenders to God?

The choice is open to all of us.

Note

1. This scenario does not include the patient with uncontrolled or complicated diabetes who is advised against fasting by a physician for true medical reasons. According to Qur’an and Sunnah, such a person is exempt from fasting, as Allah only wants ease, not hardship, for us.

The holy month of Ramadan is getting to a close. Muslims who have made it through are thankful that they have been able to do so, hopefully renewed and reformed, not only in terms of losing a couple extra pounds, but more in terms of spirit and character – that they have become better than what they were before. The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said “One might fast and he gets nothing from his fast but hunger. One might pray at night but he gets nothing from his prayer but fatigue.”

In another hadith, the Prophet also said “When Ramadan comes, satans are chained up, the gates of fire are closed and the gates of paradise are open.” So, God does what we expect from His infinite Mercy; but are we doing what He expects of us, that is another question. Although satans are chained and they cannot come near us, we may still feel tempted to go near them. Without truly transforming in behavior, fasting, and all acts of worship for that matter, become only ritual, family tradition, diet, or physical exercise. I really hope we have made that transformation, or at least embarked on a journey on that path with this Ramadan.

I also choose to look into what we are going through under the pandemic conditions from the prism of Ramadan. As we pray for the loss of many who died due to Covid-19, we also need to think what the divine wisdom might be behind this what appears to be the smallest killer of all time, which is not even a living thing. What might be the wisdom that we are all grounded in our homes and now our mosques and temples closed?

I have been speaking with many friends about their Ramadan experience this year. And an overwhelming majority said this has been one of the best Ramadan they ever had. Of course, we miss hugging friends, enjoying iftar meals together, and praying the tarawih at the mosque. But it appears to me that we probably have lacked the true depth of prayer at an individual level which manifests itself when we can focus – and solitude is sometimes the best tool to reinstall our factory settings, to remember our true human nature. This is why many mystics seek to retreat from society to be able to listen to the inner call that is innately there and we humans under the conditions of our modern lifestyles are too busy to hear that divine voice.

So, fasting is not about remaining hungry a whole day, nor any forms of worship are physical exercise. Fasting serves best when we can “fast from the material world” to reinforce our spiritual world. Our religious traditions – at least that’s the case in Islam – are teaching us to seek a balance between our physical and spiritual needs – both need to be satisfied, both need to weigh equally on the scale. But we live in a world of rat race in which all of us live hastily to bring home bread, to pursue career ambitions that fill our whole time, and many of us do not even have a minute to have some serious deep contemplation about who we are, why we are here in this life, and what our purpose is.

“Quarantine” etymologically means “forty days.” Many mystics observe what we call in Islamic tradition chila or arbaeen, both of which mean 40, to attain that spiritual fulfilment they are after. Our pandemic has already been past forty days, but I think what we can do in these times of forced seclusion is to turn our homes into places of worship, not only to schools or offices, and try to engage in a deeper spiritual journeying even when Ramadan is over.

Fasting is a state of being year-round. For as believers we are already told to fast from bad behavior, over-consumption, greed, hatred, bad words, injustice, and eating certain things. We fast from our weaknesses and our trespassing desires. The holy month of Ramadan is a reminder of this duty, by observing our limits at least for a month. Thus, fasting is an important tool to bring harmony and security to the social order. During Ramadan statistics show that there is a huge drop in criminal activity in Muslim lands. The Prophet said, “When you are provoked to fight or argue during Ramadan, just say ‘I am fasting.’” We humans are unique for we can say no to our passions and elevate ourselves to an angelic form of living. Indeed, we can do much better than what our biological makeup allows us to. Our inner, spiritual peace and outer social peace can become possible when we can truly “fast” throughout the year.

Eid Mubarak.

Hakan Yesilova is the Editor-in-Chief of The Fountain Magazine

Many yearly rituals of Ramadan will continue even as some change in deference to our social responsibility to respect God’s laws in the universe. 

The Muslim holy month of Ramadan will be different this year. Around the world, mosques will be closed, when they would normally have worshipers spilling out onto the street. Extended families will remain apart, when they would typically gather for Iftar to break the fast and share homemade treats. And shopping malls, cafes and streets will be eerily quiet, when they would normally come alive after dark.

Ramadan still began on Thursday evening, though, and in the early hours on Friday morning, households gathered, as they have for centuries, to share a sleepy suhur — the pre-dawn meal.

Even as the world grapples with COVID-19, the yearly rituals of Ramadan will continue. Throughout the holy month, most of the world’s 1.8 billion Muslims will fast between dawn and sunset, spend time in Quranic recitation, self-reflection and prayer in an effort to become closer to God, and give thanks for our blessings. But this year, the prescribed exceptions from fasting for young children, travelers, pregnant mothers and anyone who is sick will now be extended to those feeling symptoms of COVID-19.

And this year, our prayers will include special emphasis on the health care workers, emergency workers and other essential employees who are on the front lines of the fight to protect our communities. In the eyes of God, saving human lives and benefitting humanity are most noble endeavors: The Quran likens saving a life to saving the whole of humanity, and the Prophet Muhammad (upon whom be God’s peace and blessings) says that the best of humans are those who benefit other humans.

Our obligation to help and support those in need also takes on added meaning this year as our neighbors and communities face sickness, grief, economic hardship and the loneliness of self-isolation.

Perhaps the most difficult obligation for many, though, will be forgoing the long-planned gatherings of the season, in order to comply with precautions issued by authorities. But following these measures is a duty of our citizenship and a necessity of our social responsibility to respect God’s laws in the universe. For instance, the Prophet Muhammad — whose belief and trust in God was beyond description — even advised quarantining a town in the event of an infectious disease.

Each of us should take the extra time and space afforded by the pandemic’s social distancing measures as an opportunity for further examination of our connection with God, our families and our core values. This time offers a mandatory retreat from the busy nature of our daily lives and a chance to turn toward God, deepening our faith, knowledge and practice. I hope that imams will offer reminders about these opportunities to their congregations.

This period also forces us to rely on the internet and the technologies built upon it. Our young generations have been well-versed in these technologies ahead of their parents. Throughout history, messengers of God and those who strive for the enlightenment of humanity always used the available cultural tools and practices to spread their messages. We also must take this time to connect with our communities in new ways, including making our spiritual resources accessible to younger generations using their language and their familiar technologies.

The challenges of responding to the pandemic and altering our lives might push some of us to seek people to blame or to criticize. As we enter Ramadan, it is paramount that we devote ourselves to helping those in need, rather than finding others to blame. Even as people, groups or nations with whom we have had past differences may be suffering, each of us must reject as inhumane the thought that anyone deserved a calamity.

In a globalized world, nobody is isolated from a potent problem, be it environmental, medical or economic. This is a time to share data, and to collaborate to find solutions. This is a time to realize our interdependence as nations, as communities and as inhabitants of a global ecosystem — a time to recognize that we all are members of the human family and each have the opportunity to show the true potential of humanity.

As we enter this holy month, it is crucial that we look forward with hope and not despair, which stifles people and progress. Humanity has overcome great challenges in the past, and we will find ways to overcome this challenge, too. If we focus on the opportunities this pandemic presents, we will be able to keep our spirits high and reach the end of this tunnel much quicker.

Our observance of Ramadan will necessarily be different this year. But in many ways it will be like any other year: We will fast, we will pray, we will recite our holy book and we will take time for reflection and charity throughout the holy month. May God enable us to benefit fully from the feast of bounty in Ramadan.

This article has first been published on NBC News

Translated by Alp Aslandogan, the executive director of the Alliance for Shared Values.

About 3500 years ago in Egypt, Moses began to preach the religion that calls for submission to God, which he inherited from his forefather Abraham. According to the belief in that era, the ruler was considered a son of God, even a god on earth.

The Pharaoh said (to his chiefs): “Let me kill Moses, and let him call upon his Lord! I fear lest he alter your religion (replacing it with his), or lest he provoke disorder in the land” (Mu’min 40:26). What is meant by “religion” as mentioned in the verse refers to the civilization, i.e. the overall social order, of that society. The pharaoh was rather concerned about his own reign, like many other tyrants, but he professed as if he was concerned about his people and that he wanted to get rid of Moses for their good.

The following verse expresses this fact: “They said: ‘These two men are surely sorcerers intent on driving you out of your land with their sorcery, and doing away with your exemplary way of life’” (Taha 20:63).

Then the Pharaoh increased his torment to the believers and closed up their temple. In that case, God commanded Moses and his brother to take their houses as places of worship (a center of learning) (10:87). The essential judgment on worship was to be observed in the temple, but the command to pray at home was a special judgment to be implemented during this period of torment.

We are currently facing another crisis, though entirely different from the persecution that Moses and his followers endured, that is requiring us to temporarily close our houses of worship and instead pray at home. In these days of Coronavirus, all faith communities, including Muslims, Jews, and Christians, abide by this special judgment. For Muslims even the congregational Friday Prayer, which all males without valid excuse must strictly attend, is suspended. Everybody prays at home instead for the same reason of protection from harm. Whether they observe prayers or not, most people are at an obligatory retreat.

From a believer’s perspective, these days are offering us some serious food for thought. Is Coronavirus on a mission sent by God to warn people who exceed in wrongdoing? Are we being told to come to our senses, to make up our minds, step back from wrong, act in accordance with our purpose of creation, not neglect our families for the sake of greedy pursuits, and live in a way to be eligible for eternal happiness?

Two thousand years ago, Jesus Christ, peace be upon him, taught his people about belief in God. He was able to preach for only a very short amount of time, only to be accepted by a limited number of people around him all of whom suffered and were exterminated under the cruel Roman Empire. Yet, his message was not silenced; by the third century after he was gone, a great majority of people ruled by Roman Empire accepted his invitation. Muslims believe Jesus Christ was ascended to the heavens to be sent back to complete his mission as a renovator of faith in God in the Latter Times in the way of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, who, according to some Muslim scholars, is the “advocate” (Paraclete – or Parakletos, the Praised One) mentioned in John 14:16. It is believed that Jesus Christ will lead his followers – now dispersed in many denominations more so than any other tradition has [1] – and will unite them back in worship. Coronavirus has struck at a time that is most special to the Christian community, and thus giving them an opportunity to reflect on faith. It was the time of Lent, a six-week period which ended on April 11. Observing Christians have sought closeness to God by observing different forms of worship such as fasting, praying, and supporting the needy while hoping to be more receptive to the call of revival by COVID-19. Taking this opportunity, it is my hope that Christians, who are adorned with these lofty qualities, had a happy Easter holiday, which was on April 12 this year. I also celebrate the Passover holiday of the Jewish community, which was on April 8.

As a matter of fact, even the timing of this global retreat is worthy of attention; similar to Christian Lent and Easter, Muslims are in the midst of the holy three months of Rajab, Shaban, and Ramadan, while the Jewish community have been celebrating Passover within these days of retreat. Surely the followers of other traditions such as Buddhism and Hinduism will evaluate this period in meaningful retrospect. The indigenous people of Canada pray as follows:

 “O our exalted Creator! We wish you to be with us. We wish you to help our diseased ones and our friends who are far away. When we lose hope, please remind us to be thankful for the blessings of water which gives life and the earth which bears us. O God, please help us know that all people are our relatives!”

Muslims have not undergone as huge a diversification as has been the case in Christianity in terms of the essentials of faith. However, many Muslim nations have failed to duly understand the true message of the religion, could not interpret its commandments, nor could they practice it properly. As those in power did not govern them well for a very long time, many countries of the Muslim world have lagged behind with regards to civilization, ethics, culture, and public administration. In a way, they have alienated themselves to the essence of their own values. Interestingly, social studies indices that conduct research on which countries perform better on establishing institutions that reflect Islamic values and principles, there is not a single Muslim country among the first thirty [2]. There are countries like Ireland, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, New Zealand, and Canada among the first ten. The brilliant face of Islam entered a period of eclipse in the Muslim world, and then the eclipse got to be constant. Accordingly, Corona is virtually making the following call to Muslims: “You did not thoroughly understand and practice religion God revealed to you by means of His Messenger. Come back home, you need a revival. Make up your mind to make wise use of this opportunity. Evaluate the oncoming opportunity of Ramadan well in your home. Try to make up for things you neglected for years. Make self-criticism, come to grips with yourself! Become repentant and ask forgiveness!”

May this holy Ramadan, the month of the Holy Qur’an, be a means of God’s good pleasure and happiness for all Muslims.

With Coronavirus, and for that matter with all such tribulations, perhaps God Almighty makes us realize that He has not ceased to care for the humanity He created: “Shall We take away this Reminder from you (and leave you to your own devices), because you are a people wasteful (of your God-given faculties and committing excesses)?” (Zukhruf 43:5). Thus, He gives an opportunity to people before the Day of Judgment to repent and experience a “revival” now, so that we can be absolved “there.”

Notes

1. De Glasenapp. 1954. Les cinq grandes religions, Paris, Payot, 1954, p. 415.
2. http://islamicity-index.org/wp

Question: Among things Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, sought refuge from were “knowledge, hearts, prayers, and eyes” according to one specific tradition? Why did he do so? Are there types of knowledge and prayers we need to be cautious of?

It is related that the noble Messenger of God would often repeat the following prayer: “My Lord! I seek refuge in You from knowledge that is of no benefit, a heart that does not tremble in respect, from a carnal soul that is never satisfied, and from prayer that is not answered.” It is also related in another tradition that he sought refuge from calamities, diseases, and “eyes that do not well up with tears.”    

Knowledge that is of no benefit

The Qur’an says, “Is that of a donkey carrying a load of books (it transports what it does not understand)” (Al-Jumu’ah, 62:5). There are some people who wrote books, completed doctorate upon doctorate, and became “wise” men. Yet, in the words of Sadi, this newfound knowledge is largely useless and non-beneficial if they do not incorporate it into their nature and practice what they have learned.      

Nowadays, there are plenty of ignorant people with degrees. Their mouths are filled with tar and darkness from the lies, deceit, slander and misinterpretations that they spew. All of the knowledge they have learned and all of the books they have written (even if they have written about the heart and spirit of Islam) are of no use if this knowledge is not going to bring them closer to God, be their route into Paradise, and allow them to experience Divine grace.

It is important to read abundantly and to look at a wide variety of books in order to broaden our perspectives, however it is even more important to incorporate that knowledge into our daily lives. Sadi says, “If you do not believe with your knowledge, then you are the epitome of ignorance.” Such people are not only ignorant, but also are ignorant of their ignorance. All the while, some among them arrogantly assume that they are aware of everything. This is described as “triple ignorance.”

A heart that does not tremble

Secondly, the noble Prophet says, “I seek refuge from a heart that does not tremble.”

The word used in the original text is “yahsha,” which refers to a sense of reverence or awe that manifests itself in one’s actions. It is a measure that shows the depth of one’s position before God. It is acting with the consciousness of ihsan, the conviction that we are being seen by God all the time.

The Prophet says that the reverence in one’s heart manifests in that person’s outward form. If one is truly reverent to God then, it will pour out through their iris, facial expressions, hand gestures, tone of voice, and even in the ideas they put forth. Bediuzzaman Said Nursi (d. 1960) was a scholar who had the utmost reverence to God and His creation. When he used to retreat to his wooden rack on top of a tree for prayers and contemplation, he would say:

Listen to the stars, to their delightful sermon,

Listen to their message of luminous wisdom

And see what is written in their declaration

“Of all His servants, only those who possess true knowledge stand in awe of God” (Al-Fatir 35:28).             

People with deep understanding have a unique perspective. They are the ones who have engraved their knowledge into their neurons, and this tends to be reflected in all of their actions in such a way that anyone who saw them would notice the deep effects of their faith. When an observer saw such people in prostration he or she would see them in full humility for they pray in a state of “being seen by God.” Little, if any, doubt would be left unresolved with such a representation and state of being.

A carnal soul that is never satisfied

The third thing God’s Messenger sought refuge from was “a carnal soul that is never satisfied.” The Qur’an narrates the story of Korah, who serves as a primary example of a person with such a soul:

“We gave him treasures, the keys alone to which were a heavy weight for a party of strong men” (Al-Qasas, 28:76).

Korah had amassed so much wealth that even the keys to his treasure chests required ten strong men to carry them. The Prophet considered such a greedy soul to be so dangerous that he listed it after useless knowledge and a heart that does not tremble in fear.  

Prayers that are not answered

The Messenger of God, peace and blessings be upon him, says, “God does not accept the prayer of the heart which does not know what it wants and desires.” We really need to consider how we recite prayers and supplications from memory: are we doing praying with sincerity or without deeply reflecting upon what we are asking? A person could pray for something good such as, “O God, keep us far away from Hellfire, save us, protect us.” In regards to such a prayer, one should spend a few extra minutes pondering about our lives, try to close their eyes and imagine being in the presence of God, consider the consequences of an irresponsible life. One can even imagine themselves walking on the bridge above the fire. The All-Merciful God will not leave such a vivid seeker of protection in vain.

While praying, “Take us to Paradise along with those righteous people” one should imagine the gardens, trees, and flowers of Paradise to the extent that is humanly possible.        

Prayers are best when they come sincerely from the heart, not subconsciously and without meaning. It is as if something is raining into the hands of the people who sincerely turn to God when they pray to Him.

This is a personal experience that can be achieved through deep reflection and sincerity. There are some steps that can be followed in order to reach such a pious state.

First, God Almighty will accept your prayers and supplications when you are standing in the presence of your Lord with deep concentration, knowing that you are being seen by God and aiming to be in a state as if you are seeing God, too.

Secondly, it is important to make supplications over and over. God Almighty wants to hear the supplications of His servants and wants their prayers to be in their book of good deeds. Consequently, God gives whatever His servant desires depending on how insistent they are in their supplications.

In another tradition, the Prophet says that prayers are answered and advises believers to be patient and not say things such as, “I kept offering my supplications and prayers, but they were not accepted” out of desperation and impatience.

Surely believers will be rewarded with mercy should they remain at God’s doorstep in deep loyalty. He does not leave us completely deprived either, even if He does not give us exactly what we want when we want it.

When the Messenger of God takes refuge in God from supplications that are not accepted, he is referring to those who get weary of making prayers and supplicate with little to no sincerity. God knows best.

Bediuzzaman said the following about the severe pains he felt in his body: “I have supplicated for thirty years to be healed; my prayers have not been accepted externally, yet it has never occurred to me to abandon my prayers. Because illness is the occasion or time for prayer; to be cured is not the result of the prayer.”

Persecuted by oppressive regime, Bediuzzaman was poisoned twenty-one times when he was behind bars. It has not been recorded, or known, that Bediuzzaman ever once made prayers of revenge in his life despite all of the hardship that he endured. He was an emblem of forgiveness and grace, and this character fits monumental personages like him.

This is what we must strive to do as well. Prepare yourself to forgive those who are persecuting you. This is surely a heroic thing to do that takes much strength. Do not respond to evil with evil.

“If you have to respond to any wrong, respond (only) to the measure of the wrong done to you,             

but if you endure patiently, it is indeed better for the patient” (An-Nahl 16:126).

Jesus, peace be upon him, said that excellence in faith is not acting in kindness to those who act kindly to you; excellence in faith is to respond with kindness to those who treat you with evil.             

Be kind to the person who harms you. At least give the alms of a smile, if just a smile. Others may act like monsters, as would be expected from monsters. God has created us as humans, what befits us is to act with humanity. It is impermissible for a true believer to abandon this demeanor.

Eyes that don’t water with tears of sincerity

May God bless us with eyes filled with tears. If there is one antidote to put out the flames of Hell, it would be tears. If there is one thing to take our prayers straight to God, it is the tears we pour for God’s sake.

God’s Messenger, peace and blessings be upon him, said: “Don’t laugh too much.      It kills the heart.”

Your prayer mats should be soaked so much so that your mats speak back in their tongue of disposition, “That is enough! I have become fully soaked, that is enough.”          In the dark night, when you try to turn on the lights to the Intermediate Realm, your tears, in a way, should be like oxygen or energy. Your tears will provide light and illumination. May God make us like those who have such eyes.

“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” African proverb

American civil rights leader, Martin Luther King Jr. echoed the sentiments of this African Proverb when he said: “We have flown the air like birds and swum the sea like fishes, but have yet to learn the simple act of walking the earth like brothers.” Dr King appealed to all citizens of planet earth to embrace one another, regardless of background or political affiliation, in the spirit of brotherhood.

There are many moral systems based on different beliefs and cultures; these effect how we make decisions and live our daily lives. These systems are concerned with what is good for individuals and society. Ubuntu is one these moral systems adopted by Africans. It gives an understanding of ourselves as human beings in relation with the rest of the world. Ubuntu – as a way of life and a means of achieving peace and harmony – is contribution to the global community from African civilization. As it was said by Kenneth Kaunda, first president of Zambia, “Let the West have its technology and Asia its Mysticism! Africa’s gift to world culture must be in the realm of Human Relationships”[1].

The word Ubuntu originates from an African dialect. It is pronounced as uu-Boon-too, which means “humanity.” According to Ubuntu, there is a common acquaintance among us all, and it is through this relationship that we discover our human qualities. We are made human through our interactions with our fellow human beings. Zulus and Xhosas in South Africa express this idea in their language as “Umuntu Ngumuntu Ngabantu,” which means that a person is a person through other persons. We assert our own humanity when we acknowledge that of others.[2]

Ubuntu has become a well-known moral concept, typical of African, particularly South African, culture. It is described as an expression of human dignity, as a way of life, a universal truth, the foundation of the idea of an open society, and Humanism. In short, it means: humanity or humanness. It originates from the belief that one is a human being through others – “I am because you are” [3].

Ubuntu is an evolving phenomenon and has been contextualized according to the fluctuating conditions of the modern age. That is one of the reasons the concept of ubuntu has not been yet fully articulated; neither is the phenomenon fully demarcated. Ubuntu interests many people, such as social scientists, historians, philosophers, developers of software, politicians, and members of the global community. It means different things to different people around the world, and different things in different circumstances, too. It encompasses world views, economic systems, political orders, and cultures. The influence of ubuntu can be easily observed in the operational and philosophical foundations of different social movements, political parties, and professionals from a large number of fields. Ubuntu’s profound interpersonal character is the source of many distinctive virtues: patience, hospitality, loyalty, respect, sociability, health, endurance, and sympathy. These virtues have a positive impact on many fields and systems. Current Ubuntu debates focus on its social and collective dimensions and responsibilities and emphasize reciprocation as an essential value of the Ubuntu worldview.

Nobel Peace laureate Archbishop Desmond Tutu elaborates on Ubuntu as follows:

”Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks to the very essence of being human. When we want to give high praise to someone we say. ‘Yu, u nobuntu’; ‘Hey, he or she has ubuntu.’ This means they are generous, hospitable, friendly, caring, and compassionate. They share what they have. It also means my humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours. We say, ‘a person is a person through other people.’ It is not ‘I think therefore I am.’ It says rather: ‘I am human because I belong; I participate, and I share.’ A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good; for he or she has the proper self- assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs to a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.” [4]

According to Ubuntu, a person’s humanity is dependent on his/her humanity toward other human beings. A person’s humanity is therefore defined through his/her moral commitment to his/her fellow human beings, regardless of their race, religion, ethnicity, gender, or socioeconomic status.

Practicing Ubuntu unlocks the power of an African culture where people express their compassion, dignity, humanity, and mutuality to build and sustain social cohesion, peace, and justice [5]. These are the lessons true leaders adopt and practice. The similarities between true leaders – who we might call superheroes – makes me think that superheroes might be Africans. As Desmond Tutu says, “They have Ubuntu” (Poovan, Du Toit & Engelbrecht, 2006:23-25).

In an African context, respect and love among community members play an important role, and the African view of personhood rejects the notion that a person can be identified in terms of his/her physical and psychological characteristics. None of us comes into the world fully formed. We would not know how to think, walk, speak, or behave as human beings unless we learned it from other human beings [6]. Ubuntu expresses the interconnectedness, common humanity, and the responsibility of individuals to each other. In this way, Ubuntu reveals its participation in the promotion of wisdom not only for human beings but also for the whole of creation.

Nelson Mandela, the first president of post-apartheid South Africa, related his profound conviction rooted in Ubuntu:

“I have always known that deep down in every human heart, there is mercy and generosity. No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than the opposite. Even at the grimmest times in prison, when my comrades and I were pushed to our limits, I would see a glimmer of humanity in one of the guards, perhaps just for a second, but it was enough to reassure me and keep me going. Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished.” [7]

This perspective is deeply rooted in the Ubuntu view of life. It shows how capable people can cultivate a culture of peace beyond vengeance and hate, because they still find human goodness, despite all grievances.

In essence Ubuntu, is a call to service. It is one of the most practical ways to serve humanity in this current globalized and individualized world. It is a practical, collective, and conscious action to alleviate human suffering without any kind of discrimination. Ubuntu helps to make life meaningful not only for the person who adopts and practices it, but also for others. In short we can conclude that Ubuntu is the art of being a human being.

Brave men and women across the globe have been inspired by Ubuntu – and some are real Africans who inherited Ubuntu. Many are role models for a society that acts towards individuals as equals and respects their freedom and dignity. They demonstrate good examples of what it means to be responsible for one another and for ourselves. This manifests in real life heroes such as Mahatma Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, or Fethullah Gülen. They are all diligent servants of humanity who work for a better future for everyone, whose lives are living examples and tributes of the values they personify, and who work for peace and harmony and help those of us who are most vulnerable in a world that is becoming more inhumane and antagonistic.

In our gloomiest times, we need heroes and heroines to give us courage, so we can remember our intrinsic potential. We need great leaders whose moral wisdom can be a litany of hope and inspiration. From time immemorial, heroes emerged from very difficult circumstances, like roses that grew from concrete. They reminds us of our best qualities like courage, strength, hope, empathy, honesty, compassion, and humility. People are inspired and encouraged by great leadership.

We all have the potential of being heroes in our communities and societies as long as we try our best to touch the hearts and lives of our fellow human beings regardless of their race, culture, religion, gender, and ethnicity. Sustainable peace and harmony in our own hearts and in the world will depend of one question: are we ready to swim with crocodiles in the river and dance with lions in the jungle to make a difference in the world?

References

1. Kaunda, K. 1967. A Humanist in Africa. Letters to Colin Morris. London: Longman.
2. “Understanding the Essence of Ubuntu The African Philosophy” accessed January 31, 2019. http://www.buzzle.com/editorials/7-22-2006-103206.asp
3. Ramose, MB. 1999. African Philosophy through Ubuntu. Harare: Mond Books.
4. Desmond Tutu. 1999. No Future Without Forgiveness, New York: Random House, 1999, pp. 31-32.
5. Poovan, N., M.K. du Toit and A.S. Engelbrecht. 2006. “The effect of the social values of Ubuntu on team effectiveness.” South African Journal Business Management.
6. Nussbaum, Barbara. 2003. “Ubuntu: Reflections of a South African on Our Common Humanity.” Reflections4 (4): 21–26.
7. Mandela, N. 1994. A Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela. Boston: Little, Brown & Company.

It’s no secret – or at least it shouldn’t be – that climate change is one of the most important issues of our time. Very recently, a report came out saying that the planet could be facing serious consequences of climate change by 2040 – a mere 22 years from now (“Major Climate Report Describes a Strong Risk of Crisis as Early as 2040,” New York Times, Oct. 7, 2018). At a time when many political leaders seem unable to offer meaningful solutions, hamstrung by partisanship or economics, many people have turned to faith leaders for solutions. In 2015, for instance, Pope Francis issued Laudato Si’, a Catholic encyclical devoted entirely to ecological ethics and theology.

Two scholars explore Francis’ encyclical in Nature and Environment in Contemporary Religious Contexts edited by Muhammad Shafiq and Thomas Donlin-Smith. And though Francis might be the most quoted religious figure in the collection, Shafiq and Donlin-Smith have gathered 17 peer-reviewed essays submitted to a conference on nature and the environment in religions, hosted by the Hickey Center for Interfaith Studies and Dialogue at Nazareth College. Taken together, they offer an inspiring and hopeful look at how religions and faith leaders are approaching humanity’s biggest challenge.

Although Francis has been one of the loudest and most prominent religious voices urging a new ecological theology, I want to look at some of the lesser known voices who are advocating for interdisciplinary and interfaith solutions to climate change. For example, Hussam S. Timani writes compellingly about how secularism and modernity – and the so-called advances of contemporary science – have actually led to the on-going ecological disaster. As he lays out in his paper “Modernity, Secularism, and the Exclusion of Nature: Why Religion Matters,” he believes that answers might be found in the ecological consciousness commanded by religion, and looks specifically at Christianity and Islam.

Timani is not just concerned with the environment, though. He believes that Western modernity has estranged man from nature – and from meaning. It is this lack that has led humanity to so voraciously consume the planet’s resources, searching for a higher purpose that has been lost as more and more people have moved away from faith.

He sees potential solutions in both Islam and Christianity. Of Islam he writes, “Being a servant of God, man must preserve and protect what God has entrusted him with and restrain from exercising dominion and power over nature” (p. 41). And, like many scholars of a more compassionate, thoughtful Christianity, Timani finds hope in the words of Richard Niebuhr, who “spoke of ‘loyalty to the community of life’” (p. 49).

Timani also engages with critics of religion – namely, Todd Jared LaVasseur’s critique that all major religions are anthropocentric, or the belief that humans are the most important creature. While true, Timani believes that religions call for a conscientious anthropocentrism, as opposed to the reckless consumption of resources espoused by Western materialism.

In his essay, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer as an Ecological Theologian,” Jamison Stallman also places the blame for our current ecological crisis on Western materialism. He examines climate change and a possible way forward through the theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the early 20^th century Lutheran theologian, and the writings of environmental ethicist Larry Rasmussen.

In Sanctorum Communio (literally “a congregation of saints” and also the title of Bonhoeffer’s doctoral dissertation), Bonhoeffer asserts that, in Stallman’s words, “I become an individual when I recognize that there is a self-conscious You” (p. 90). It is only through a person’s relation to other humans that they can have any identity at all. Community is necessary for there to be an individual.

Of course, as we all know, any time two self-conscious “I”s come into contact, there will be an ethical tension. But this, Bonhoeffer asserts, is how person-hood and community are constantly being shaped and re-defined: by managing such ethical barriers.

Larry Rasmussen’s view of humans as “biosocial” is similar to Bonhoeffer’s insistence on community. But he extends the idea further, beyond just a community of Christ, to include the entire ecosystem. Western materialism, Rasmussen believes, has detached humanity from its ecological “niches” – that is, the systems and communities within which humans live (this is referred to as “niche theory”). Western materialism has moved humanity to a place above these systems, not of them. It is only by conceiving of ourselves as of the ecosystem – and in relationship with it – can we begin to repair the damage we’ve done. We cannot exist but in relation to other creatures and systems. 

Though most of the scholars are writing from the perspectives of the three Abrahamic faiths, three authors (one from each section of the book) explore other faiths and their relationships to the environment.

In section one – titled “Our Human Contexts within Nature” – Tatjana Myoko V. Prittwitz writes about “A Vast Net of Interconnected Diamonds: Buddhist Views of Nature.” Prittwitz begins with a fascinating (and humbling) thought experiment, asking the reader to think about everything in their life – their clothes and food, the chair they sit on and the car they drive, the roads and planes that make transit possible – and to consider how these objects and systems were made and how many people played in role in making them. “…our existence is dependent upon billions upon billions of people, actions, and things. What we call a separate self is in fact a vast net of … interconnection” (p. 68). Despite approaching the issue from a Buddhist perspective, Prittwitz concludes something similar, albeit slightly different, to the Muslim perspective of Timani and the Christian perspective of Stallman: “Out of the realization of interdependence comes the imperative of global responsibility …” (p. 70). Prittwitz alludes to this same universality in Native American spirituality, shamanistic rituals, and Tibetan animism, suggesting that most religions, no matter how seemingly disparate, are motivated and inspired by interconnectedness.

Appropriately for section two – “Imperatives from Sacred Texts and Tradition” – Nawaraj Chaulagain provides a close reading of the Sanskrit text Devi Mahatmya (literally “The Glorification of the Goddess”). Chaulagain writes that “The cosmic order is sustained through a continuously dynamic process of creation, preservation, and destruction for re-creating…” (p. 185). Considering the current crisis, this “dynamic process” can only be seen as hopeful!

Similar to Bonhoeffer’s grappling with original sin in Sanctorum Communio, the Devi Mahatmya contends with “the eternal battle … between the good and the evil …” And from an ecological perspective, it is grappling with “the perpetual conflict between those who are part of … the ecosystem and natural order … versus those who are against it…” (p. 186). Lastly, the Hindu festival of Navaratri pays homage to the natural world (rivers and mountains are particularly sacred in Hinduism). Chaulagain calls this “ecological worship”: “The Navaratri calls for the preservation of the earth” and involves the planting of barley seeds and the use of water from sacred rivers (194-95).

Throughout the essays, two dominant approaches to humanity and the environment tend to take shape (albeit with exceptions). Whereas Islam, Judaism, and Christianity tend to situate man as “stewards” of the world, Hinduism and Buddhism often view humanity as being “interconnected” with the world.

Leocadie Lushombo explores one of the exceptions: Central African Christianity, which tends towards interconnectedness. In her piece “Mitigating Deforestation in the Congo Basin and Climate Change: The Ethic of Environmental Responsibility Based on African Spirituality,” Lushombo ties micro environmental damage to macro climate catastrophe. She cites studies showing that deforestation in the Congo Basin “causes a decrease of precipitation of about 5%-15% in the Great Lakes region [in the US]…” (p. 275). Deforestation of the Amazon and Central Africa are causing droughts in the breadbasket of America. Meanwhile, it is leading to deluges in the Arabian peninsula. Such deforestation can be directly tied to the ills of colonialism and globalization. It’s also exacerbated by an influx of refugees – and as climate change worsens, it will lead to even more refugees.

Resistance to the dominant ideologies of Western exploitation and capitalism can be found in African spirituality, including African Christianity. Lushombo quotes Magesa, who wrote “What the African religious world view emphasizes, therefore, are relationships …” (p. 281). In traditional African practices, she finds hints of the “humanity as caretaker” worldview mostly associated with the Abrahamic faiths. She writes, “In order to maintain harmony with nature, it is a moral obligation to function as God’s stewards … and not as rulers” (p. 286). Lushombo sees solutions to over-logging and resource exploitation in the ideologies of both interconnectedness and stewardship.

The other essays in the book support this conclusion. Whether a faith views humanity as a steward of nature or interconnected with nature, is immaterial. All faiths believe that taking care with the natural world is critical to humanity’s future – in this world and the next. As our species grapples with climate change triggered by capitalism run amok, all people of faith – regardless of ideology – must come together to begin healing our planet through a new theology of ecology. This essay collection, with its focus on peacebuilding and interreligious dialogue, would be a good starting point.

Jalal al-Din al-Rumi taught, “Ritual prayer can be different in every religion, but belief never changes” (Fihi Mafih). In the light of this insight I would like to share why I think of myself, especially during Ramadan, as a Reform Rabbi and a Muslim Jew.

Actually, I am a Muslim Jew, i.e. a faithful Jew submitting to the will of God, because I am a Reform Rabbi. As a Rabbi I am faithful to the covenant that God made with Abraham – the first Muslim Jew, and I submit to the commandments that God made with the people of Israel at Mount Sinai.

As a Reform Rabbi I believe that Jewish spiritual leaders should modify Jewish tradition as social and historical circumstances change and develop. I also believe we should not make religion difficult for people to practice. These are lessons that Prophet Muhammad taught 12 centuries before the rise of Reform Judaism in the early 19^th century. As Bukhari reported in a Hadith (Volume 3, Book 31, Number 145),

Narrated ‘Abdullah: The Prophet fasted for days continuously; the people also did the same but it was difficult for them. So, the Prophet forbade them (to fast continuously for more than one day). They said, “But you fast without break”… The Prophet replied, “I am not like you, for I am provided with food and drink (by Allah).”

Reform Jews are the largest of the Jewish denominations in the US and Canada. In the UK, Reform Judaism is called Liberal Judaism. All Reform Jews would agree with this teaching of Prophet Muhammad.

I have been studying Islam for almost 55 years. I think it is vitally important for our generation to understand how much Islam and Judaism have in common. Fasting is one area where this commonality is very evident. Jews and Muslims are the two religious groups that most noticeably practice fasting. Muslims fast for the entire month of Ramadan, from first light until sundown, and Jews fast on days like Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) and the 9^th of Av (a day of mourning, much like the Shi’a observance of Ashura on the 10^th of Muharram). The rules about fasting are very similar in both Jewish and Muslim law.

Many people may wonder: why should someone restrict their culinary pleasures? Why should we afflict ourselves by fasting? Don’t most people think that being happy is the most important thing? Isn’t eating one of the most accessible pleasures we have? Why do Islam and Judaism restrict their adherents from the simple pleasure of food each year?

The Qur’an says, “Oh you who believe! Fasting is prescribed to you as it was prescribed to those before you, that you may (learn) self-restraint” Qur’an 2:183. Meanwhile, the Torah decrees for Jews a day of fasting (Leviticus 16:29, 23:27) when, for twenty-four hours, adult Jews (in good health) are supposed to afflict their souls by abstaining from eating, drinking, and marital relations. Also for religious/spiritual reasons, both Jews and Muslims do not eat pork. Both religions teach us that what we do not eat may be even more important than what we do eat.

There are many ways fasting brings Jews and Muslims closer to God. First of all, fasting teaches compassion. It is easy to talk about the world’s problem of hunger. We can feel sorry that millions of people go to bed hungry each day. But not until one can actually feel it in one’s own body is the impact truly there. Compassion based on empathy is much stronger and more consistent than compassion based on pity. This feeling must lead to action. Fasting is never an end in itself; that’s why it has so many different outcomes. But all the other outcomes are of no real moral value if compassion is not enlarged and extended through fasting. As the prophet Isaiah said, “The truth is that at the same time you fast, you pursue your own interests and oppress your workers. Your fasting makes you violent, and you quarrel and fight. The kind of fasting I want is this: remove the chains of oppression and the yoke of injustice, and let the oppressed go free. Share your food with the hungry and open your homes to the homeless poor” (Isaiah 58:3-7).

Secondly, fasting on Yom Kippur serves as a form of penance for Jews as it does for Muslims when they fast during Ramadan. Abu Huraira narrated that the Prophet said: “Whoever observes fasts during the month of Ramadan out of sincere faith, hoping to attain Allah’s rewards, then all his past sins will be forgiven” (Sahih Al-Bukhari Vol 1).

Though self-inflicted pain may alleviate some guilt, it is much better to reduce one’s guilt by offsetting acts of righteousness to others. This is why contributing to charity is an important part of Yom Kippur and Ramadan. Indeed, Judaism teaches that fasting that doesn’t increase compassion is ignored by God.

The concept of fasting as penance also helps us understand that our hunger-pains can be beneficial. Contemporary culture desires happiness above all else. Any pain or suffering is seen as unnecessary and indeed evil. Though we occasionally hear people echo values from the past – such as the notion that suffering can help one grow – many today seem to think that the primary goal in life is to always be happy and free of all discomfort.

The satisfaction one derives from the self-induced pain of fasting provides insight into a better way of reacting to the externally caused suffering we experience throughout life. Taking a pill is not always the best way to alleviate pain, especially if by doing so we allay the symptoms without reaching the root cause.

The third outcome of fasting is improved physical health. Of course, one 24-hour fast will not have any more effect than one day of exercise. Only prolonged and regular fasting promotes health. The annual fast on Yom Kippur can, however, awaken us to the importance of how much and how often we eat.

Since our society has problems with overabundance, fasting provides a good lesson in the virtue of denial. Health problems caused by overeating are among the most rapidly growing health problems in affluent Western countries. America’s consumer culture urges us to constantly over-indulge ourselves; now, even our children suffer from our bad behavioral models. About 17 percent of kids and teens in the US are obese, a figure that has more than tripled since the 1970s, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Now a report in the New England Journal of Medicine lays out one of the consequences of all this excess weight: a corresponding increase in childhood diabetes.

After reviewing data on 10-to-19-year-olds in five states (California, Colorado, Ohio, South Carolina, and Washington), researchers determined that 12.5 out of every 100,000 of the youth studied had a bona fide case of diabetes in 2011 and 2012 compared with nine cases per 100,000 youth in 2002 and 2003. The study authors found the incidence of Type 2 diabetes in this age group had risen by an average of 4.8 percent per year during the nine-year study period.

Thus, going without all food and drink, even water, on Yom Kippur and Ramadan challenges us to think about the benefits of the very important religious teaching, that less is more.

A fourth benefit of fasting, is that it can help us in our struggle against dependencies. We live in a consumer society. We are constantly bombarded by advertising telling us that we must have this or that to be healthy, happy, popular, or wise.

By fasting, we assert that we need not be totally dependent on external things, even such essentials as food. If our most basic need for food and drink can be suspended for twenty-four hours, how much more of the nonessentials might we cut out?

Judaism and Islam do not advocate asceticism as an end in itself. In fact, it is against Muslim and Jewish law to deny ourselves normal physical pleasures. But in our overheated consumer society it is necessary to periodically turn off the constant pressure to consume and to remind ourselves forcibly that “Man does not live by bread alone” (Deuteronomy 8:3).

Fifth, fasting is an exercise in willpower. Most people think they can’t fast because it’s too hard. But actually the discomfort of hunger pangs is relatively minor. A headache, muscle pains from too much exercise, and most certainly a toothache … all are more severe than the pains hunger produces. The reason it is so hard to fast is because it so easy to break your fast, since food is almost always in easy reach; all you have do is take a bite.

Thus, the key to fasting is the willpower to decide again and again not to eat or drink. Our society has increasingly become one of self-indulgence. We lack self-discipline. Fasting encourages discipline and urges us to use our will-power. When people exercise their willpower through fasting, they are affirming their self-control and celebrating mastery over themselves. We need to continually prove that we can do it, because we are aware of our frequent failures to be self-disciplined.

Sixth, fasting is good for the soul. It often serves as an aid for spiritual experiences. For most people, especially those who have not fasted regularly before, hunger pains are a distraction. People who are not by nature spiritual/emotional individuals will probably find that a one-day fast is insufficient to help induce an altered state of consciousness. Jews who have already fasted for Yom Kippur can simply extend the fast another twenty-four to thirty-six hours.

Muslims can select a night or two to fast in addition to their daily fast; preferably during the first two weeks of Ramadan, when the moon is waxing. Jews are prohibited to fast prior to Yom Kippur; eating a good meal prior to Yom Kippur Eve is a mitzvah (religious duty), because Judaism, like Islam, opposes excessive asceticism.

The seventh outcome of fasting is the performance of a mitzvah (religious duty), which is, after all, the one fundamental reason for fasting on Yom Kippur. We do not do mitzvoth (religious duties) in order to benefit ourselves, but because our duty as Jews requires that we do them. Fasting is a very personal mitzvah, with primarily personal consequences.

Fasting on Yom Kippur is a personal offering to God, from each and every Jew who fasts. For over 100 generations, Jews have fasted on this day. A personal act of fasting is part of the Jewish people’s covenant with God. The principal reason to fast is to fulfill God’s commandment.

The outcome of one’s fast can be any among a half-dozen forms of self-fulfillment. But simply knowing that I have done one of my duties as a faithful Jew is the most basic and primary outcome of all.

It is my hope that fasting is a first step toward the removal of the chains of self-oppression and narrow mindedness that enslave us, our neighbors, and our world! I hope the future holds years of shared fasting by Muslims and Jews, leading to a greater amount of understanding and respect through increased acceptance of religious pluralism. 

Fethullah Gülen points out that the Abrahamic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) and some non-Abrahamic faiths (Hinduism) accept that there is only One source for all religions. All faiths pursue the same goal. Gülen states,

As a Muslim, I accept all Prophets and Books sent to different peoples throughout history, and regard belief in them as an essential principle of being Muslim. A Muslim is a true follower of Abraham, Moses, David, Jesus, and all other Prophets. Not believing in one Prophet or Book means that one is not a Muslim.
Thus we acknowledge the oneness and basic unity of religion, which is a symphony of God’s blessings and mercy, and the universality of belief in religion.

Gülen’s description of universal religion as a symphony is an excellent illustration. One cannot have harmony if everyone plays the same notes; and one cannot have a symphony if everyone plays the same instruments.

Individual conductors and composers are different, but the source of musical creativity is One. According to a Hadith narrated by Abu Huraira, Prophet Muhammad said, “The prophets are paternal brothers; their mothers are different, yet their religion is one (because they all have the same father)” (Bukhari, Book #55, Hadith #652).

I’ve been working with them now for the past eight years. I’ve had an opportunity to work closely with them and to travel with them overseas, and I see no foundation for this.

As a matter of fact, when I look at their zeal and their enthusiasm for the religion, and I look at how they practice the Qur’an and the life example of Muhammad the Prophet (upon him be peace), I’m inspired by what they do.

And they not only focus and center upon Muslims, they have great relationships with the non-Muslim community. And I would consider them to be like ambassadors for Islam.

They share Ramadan, they share neighborly needs, etc.

Muhammad the Prophet (upon him be peace) said he was one time talking with one of his companions, and he asked them if he knew one of the brothers. And then, he said, “Yes, I know so and so.”

And then the Prophet (upon him be peace) said, “Well, let me ask you something about him. Have you worked with him?”

He said, “No.”

“Have you traveled with him?”

He said, “No.”

Then the Prophet (upon him be peace) said, “Well, then you don’t know him.”

I’m pleased to say that I’ve worked with our brothers, and I have traveled with them. And I know them well.

And to classify them as terrorists in any form is a great misrepresentation.

The other thing that I want to say is that they are very loyal and very patriotic to this nation. They work to support the good works in this nation.

They also work with all people, faith or no faith, and they show by example what the Prophet Muhammad (upon him be peace) taught us.

Some of us read books, some of us talk, but they actually do. And I consider it a privilege and an honor to be associated with them and to be part of the brotherhood.

I see them as wonderful human beings and as true Muslims, and I can say this as one that has studied the religion and been a leader in the religion for over 25 years. I can say this.

Also, what I want to say to you is that when people try to come against them – because some Muslims don’t know about them and their movement and the good that they do in the world – I would tell them not to worry about that.

I would tell them to continue to model and be an excellent example of this religion and also build on the relationships you already have.

Myself, as one of your brothers and friends: if I know other Muslims don’t know you, I’m happy to take you with me and introduce you to them and let them get to know you so they can form their own opinions.

And I have no doubt that once they get to know you and get to know your leadership, I have no doubt that they will no longer believe these outrageous allegations against you.

Muhammad the Prophet (upon him be peace) made education a top priority. You all make education a top priority.

He told us that we should be kind and considerate and respectful and hospitable to our neighbor. You all demonstrate that. You host iftars, you host various events during the month of Ramadan to educate the people.

So the Hizmet Movement is, I think, vital to the Muslim community, and they are also showing us how to apply the wonderful, universal, timeless concepts of Islam in the 21st century.

My imam, my teacher, taught me that you never change the principles. You never change the logic in Islam.

He said, but it’s OK to change the way you express the logic. And we have to look at our current set of circumstances and our reality here in the West and apply the best application of this faith.

I see them doing that, and I see them embracing the entire human family and making a positive, wonderful difference in the world.

They’re a benefit to the Muslim community and humanity as a whole.

Imam Omar Shakir, Resident Imam at Masjid Bilal ibn Rabah of San Antonio, Texas

This article has first been published in the special issue of the Fountain Magazine © Blue Dome Press

Focus is the key – that and good intentions. Being laid-low by fasting helps us to do what we always know is right for us. I read from a mystic source about a man being asked if he loved humanity.

“I do, indeed,” he said.

“Then why,” asked the mystic, “do you treat yourself so badly?”

Today, there are 1.6 billion Muslims fasting – and me, a non-Muslim. Of course, there are plenty of other non-Muslims who undertake the fast. The Christian fast would have been perfectly accommodating, but Lent somehow simply came and went. There would appear to be less emphasis placed on fasting among Christians.

In my efforts, I have one advantage: I am a senior citizen! No office awaits me. No traffic jams. No heavy labor. In theory, I am in a perfect position to undertake the outer and inner fast. No food, alcohol, or nicotine during the daylight hours; these are the basic requirements. The inner fast means the subjugation of bad thinking, arguing, philosophizing, and sex.

The day drags on! At around noon, the pangs of hunger are insistent. I need a diversion. But where? What to do? Devout Muslims spend these difficult parts of the day in prayer. I, on the other hand, have been known to simply sit around, being quiet. My wife frowns.

The evening comes and at the proscribed moment – when the sun has set – it is time to eat. But how awfully vulgar, to await the moment with ravenous fervor. One’s eyes stray to a clock at ever-decreasing intervals. The mind has only one fixed object. The mouth waters. I feel that I deserve this break in the fast. Then comes the first nudge of shame, for I have slogged through this first day with dogged determination. I have succeeded, but the entire day has been of the mind. Perhaps, later, there will be more of a feeling of inner sincerity. As mentioned above, the experts and the experienced know that relief, which generally means freedom from the demands of the body, comes after about three days. It is a physical fact. Nevertheless, it is best not to forget that God is behind everything.

Pre-dawn on the second day. I am too lazy to get up to drink water. Common sense tells me that it should be otherwise. I slump back onto my pillow. Since I have not even had water for breakfast, this will be another long day.

Many years ago I enjoyed a daydream about equanimity, which for me meant a quiet mind. I read of the mystic who said that he was walking around, feeling quite happy, with nothing much on his mind. What a wonderful condition that must be. Envy is my lot and it simply adds to the confusion. In my daydream I pictured a desert riad, the sublime architecture of which makes my stunned mind the place of dreams. There will naturally be the prerequisite inner courtyard. There will be a colonnaded walk around the divine fountain, which gurgles ever so discretely. I am wearing a robe and soft slippers. I walk sedately among the columns, murmuring a few verses from something or other – perhaps even from the Quran. It would be the time for finer feelings to emerge and for the passions to diminish as I slowly lose myself. I suppose that I would dwindle into nothing, to then be confronted with the possibility of seven demons entering my inner world to replace the one’s I had been rid of.

In the everyday world, of course, the vast majority of Muslims do not possess a riad and they do not have the energy to murmur anything at all beyond a fervent wish for the clock to show a different face, so to speak. Still, there are plenty of devoted souls out there, doing their best to survive the onslaught of a secular existence, which is insistently temporal. It is said that by four in the afternoon, the cigarette smokers are going out of the minds. I am grateful that smoking makes me ill.

I understand what Jiddhu Krishnamurti has called the folly of wishing to repeat pleasure. More of the same does not necessarily mean more pleasure because we are talking sensory overload. What in Arabic are called nafs can be comfortably translated into English as appetites. My nafs lead me on. My tongue is a sponge-like nuisance, saturated with saliva. I must be diligent though! A slip in awareness will have me slathering into a cream cake in no time. I remember reading about an ascetic in India who martyred his desire by holding a succulent bunch of grapes next to his mouth as he marched along in the customary 40 Celsius heat of the subcontinent.

The fourth day, my wife’s birthday. One feels inclined to celebrate. We do celebrate and I half promise to add an extra day to the fast to compensate for my misdemeanor. But to be fair, she is not exactly a lady of unprecedented desire; her nafs seem modest compared to mine. If anyone is to blame ’tis I.

Day six. Or is it? I’m losing track. We are too active in the world. An invitation to visit a daughter means that she will cook for us and one can hardly refuse. We eat and drink. I am to eventually count four alcoholic drinks during the month.

Aesthetics loom large in my mind, and I am convinced that God in His mercy has led my mind to such finer thoughts. I loved reading about Shibui, the Japanese concept of rightness, or appropriateness. Like many people I first read about Shibui in James Michener’s Iberia, which is perhaps the definitive travel book about the Iberian Peninsula. Michener also mentioned the Spanish notion of Duende, which describes, or imbues, an almost Zen-like quality to something. It is about grace, but not so much in a religious sense, but all the more in respect of something being graceful. Duende has found, I believe, an up-to-date expression in ‘zone,’ from ‘flow’ psychology. If you are in the zone, everything flows.

The next day and I have stopped counting. I am feeling slightly well. That ‘feeling slightly well’ appeals to me as a figure of speech; it sounds like an original concept. I am able to breathe freely from my stomach. This means wellness for me. I am happy to have thoughts about creativity. They may be just thoughts, which are usually a nuisance, but at least they seem creative as opposed to being damaging. The mystic, again: ‘You can do anything you like in this world as long as you don’t hurt anybody.’ Thoughts arising in this way are also a blessing because I am not thinking anything of a bloodcurdling nature. God is good.

Ramadan seems to be going fairly normally. I no longer have ravaging pangs of hunger. I only occasionally have the desire for an ice-cold beer. That Muslims don’t drink alcohol at all doesn’t seem to help. I have lost a couple of kilograms, however. Common knowledge has it that a one-liter carton of milk weighs one kilogram. Thus, the loss of ten kilograms in body weight can be easily fathomed as not dragging ten cartons of milk around with you. I have read extreme stories of people losing 15 or even 20 cartons.

More diversions. I have just been reading bits of art philosophy: ‘If you can’t use it, it is probably art.’ Thebest quote, however, comes from Shaker philosophy: ‘Don’t make anything unless it is necessary and useful; but if it is both necessary and useful don’t hesitate to make it beautiful.’ Shaker furniture is exquisite; the epitome of minimalism coupled with elegance. Yet looking at it makes me feel sad. Perhaps this is the message: you are not supposed to look at it and be made happy; you are supposed to be happy with or without beautiful possessions. God would have it so.

We drove through a small town this afternoon. A large man strolled casually, obliquely across the road in front of our car. His insouciance was insulting. Anger flared within me. I slowed but gunned the engine as we passed him. If there were minus points to be acquired I acquired the maximum. Sudden anger. Afterwards I sat and gazed, fairly emptyheaded, feeling an awful sense of nothingness. It would lift, I knew. Perhaps sleep would diminish the dull gloom.

I remember the three days in Herat on the border between Afghanistan and Iran. I was rotten with diarrhea and barely able to move from my mud-built room to the muddy hole in the floor ten yards away. I was extremely weak and perhaps even a little delirious. The mosquitoes seemed as big as small birds. You could easily see them coming. I emptied my body until there was nothing more to empty. I was still very young; a skinny youth. It was at times like that, when the situation was dismal, that I laughed. It all seemed so ridiculous, suffering diarrhea in Herat in a mud-built hotel.

“What?” I remember saying to myself. “Are you going to die here?” Then I laughed, perhaps slightly hysterically. It was fifty years ago and in those days I had been able to lift everything I owned in the world with a little finger.

Visitors, again. I ‘borrow’ one cigarette, eat one small thing on a cocktail stick, and drink half a glass of water (with the cigarette) and one small cup of black tea. The visitors fortunately refused wine. I am convinced that hospitality should be shown so that guests are not embarrassed or feel unwanted. A lovely excuse. I don’t feel too bad but I know the time is coming when a more serious attitude will have to set in. My Muslim friends would be appalled at my shortcomings.

Today I am feeling listless. When one puts one’s appetites (those naughty Arabic nafs) on hold, they sulk. This sulking reflects on my own mood; I, too, sulk. Thus listlessness is my portion. What it really means is that I have previously been functioning through the willing energies of my appetites. This would be okay regarding work, but not the finer aspects of one’s life. Confusion is the result and one’s own small blobs of chaos will be added to an already chaotic world. Ramadan is about personal responsibility.

I sinned inwardly, romping into a philosophical debate. Felt the nafs having a field day. I really must get quiet, but it is so very difficult for a writer to acquire grace. In the case of a writer it can only come despite himself. On the other hand, isn’t that always the case? God is not only great, He is wily.

By day 20, I know that writing a journal is not exactly useful for achieving the aims of the fast. I write now after Eid-al-Fitr, the celebration marking the end of Ramadan. Intellectual activity may be wrong, but I can’t help feeling sorry for myself, which loves to write, and the millions of poor Muslims who have little opportunity to be free of the material forces raging around our planet. I have also come to realize that good intentions are of the essence.

I stagger through the last ten days of this month of fasting. For a brief period I experience what Christians call ‘the peace that passeth all understanding.’ This experience and other experiences, according to the lights of the recipient, come during the so-called ‘night of power,’ when God’s grace is poured down from the heavens. These are the blessings that make Ramadan such an inspiring endeavor.

This year has been pretty much a disaster for me. There have been no Muslim brothers and sisters nearby. One friend sends the traditional apology for mistakes made during the year.

I am reminded of a past Ramadan and an Eid-al-Fitr celebration in Indonesia. The Muslims and I awaited the arrival of three imams. They arrived and a mind-stilling hush fell over the gathering. I felt an opening, a slight tingle above my heart. The crowd formed a shuffling line and we approached the three imams to beg forgiveness. The imams begged forgiveness in return. Then each person stood next to the imams to eventually form what became a large circle of human forgiveness. It was astonishing to realize the obviousness of an apology that benefits not one but both parties. I had felt a part of it all. Nobody had questioned my right to be there.

Inner worship is a prayer that prays of itself. Something inside a person – the soul – begins to pray. Submission is obviously a must.