I haven’t written in a while, nor have I been particularly inspired to write in a long time. This Ramadan I have been moved to do so for various reasons, all of them distinctly personal and yet pervasive, influencing us all. This Ramadan and for several Ramadans, I have heard of atrocities happening all over the world, and now also those close to home. The victims of such acts not only the dead, but the mourning mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, and lovers.
As a child Ramadan was a month of purity, of peace and tranquility. In my home I learned that the idea is to forsake the material reality around me to feed my mind, my soul. I learned to fast from food and drink, ill thoughts and worldly pleasures for the sake of self-awareness, for inwardness, for perspective, for a relation to my brothers in Islam but also in mankind. I learned to give charity as much as possible and take care of my community—not the community comprising of Muslims, but my neighbors, whomever they are, for they have rights over me. Ramadan was light-heartedness and enlightenment and the embodiment of the best of my religion and my understanding of humanity. I naively spent my days in Ramadan asking for health and wealth, to be counted among the believers and the pious. I asked that for me and my loved ones. This was the extent of relations, of my relatedness to all—limited and restricting.
I cannot say that I particularly care for the excessive affairs that have ironically become the face of fasting. There is an element of senseless going through the motions of what ought to be done ritualistically, which is somewhat accepted and expected, for we are only human. This Ramadan, we have seen intolerable, horrific acts; acts against humanity have been committed having dehumanized the face of the other. Victims have become a thing, an object that one is entitled to do with as they please. My notions of Islam have been overwhelmed with the rhetoric of intolerance and hate.
Ramadan remains to me the best example of my faith, yet I have a heavy heart this Ramadan. I pray for me and mine, but I find it important to pray for mankind. It is the dignity associated with humanity that relates us to one another. I pray that He fosters mercy, compassion, respect, and love in the hearts of His creations. I pray that when His creations look upon one another it is with the innocence and wonderment of one being looking at one’s likeness. I pray that we are accepting of our differences, because that is how He chose for us to be. I pray that we look to one another and realize that we must one day return to Him. Ameen.
Ms. Maryam Shakir is editor-at-large for Sanad Trust Foundation, Sanad Blog contributor, and former Sanad Prep Learning Coach. Ms. Shakir currently serves as the Neurology Program Coordinator for the Department of Neurosciences within the Office of Medical Education for a local university.
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