Last week the Islamic month of fasting started. Fasting during this 30-day period called Ramadan is one of the main pillars of their faith. The fast is only during the daylight hours, but the rules are quite strict. The fast begins in the wee hours of the morning when a religious leader can see the difference between a white thread and a black thread held in his hand. Being summer, that time is 3:30 am here. Then the fast is broken each evening before the evening call to prayer, which has been around 7:20 pm. Between those hours a good Muslim is not permitted to eat or drink anything.
We have observed Ramadan in a variety of places. I experienced the party atmosphere of Ramadan in Cairo Egypt, where every night was dancing and feasting. I also saw the long tables set in front of mosques in Turkey, where the faithful would gather for communal meals. Those men would assemble with their overflowing plates on the table 20 minutes before the call to prayer would come, salivating as they counted down the minutes. Together we had some great experience with Somalis during Ramadan in the US. One year I kept the whole fast in order to grow closer in relationships with those friends, and so I have fond memories of that year. Then there are harsher memories, like 2008 and 2009 when we were in Lal, witnessing the suffering that a malnourished population of poor farmers was experiencing as the fast came during wheat harvest. So what is Ramadan? Is it gluttony? Is it legalism? Is it community building? Is it wicked? I suggest that it cannot be described solely by any of these single-term definitions. You have to go deeper to understand what is going on when people fast.
While I have never been able to say that I like fasting, I often remember that I like the effects of fasting. Ones thoughts and attitudes and desires are deeply challenged and changed when you break your routine and experience hunger. I like to fast when a big decision or heavy matter is in front of me, because it opens my eyes to new perspectives, and loosens my grip on my selfish will. By denying the simple task of putting food in my mouth, it causes me to think more about what I so often automatically do to serve myself, and it makes me tune my senses more to God, who I say I always depend on (but do I?)
Although the observance of the fast and the subject of worship is different in different religions, I know that many Muslims also have soul-searching and spirit-changing experiences during the month. We pray for them to have divine dreams or visions, because these are more common in this month than the rest of the year. We take time to pray for direction to those that have had those dreams, that we can give some explanation to them or answer questions. This is the side of Ramadan that we look forward to.
Unfortunately this year we have seen another spirit-changing effect of Ramadan, and this one is troubling. Since we have been in this town it has been astounding how many times I have been proselytized on the sidewalks of the bazaar. I don’t mind, I find these useful times to start conversations. Then last week, as the month of fasting began, the religiously fervent upped their game and pushed some hard terms at me, and I have grown quite concerned about this. One youth embodied and communicated to me the harshest rhetoric taught in madrassas here. I have heard it all before, as just rhetoric, but hearing it face to face, with him talking about me, brought it home that religion takes some to the very extreme of intolerance.
(to be continued...)
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