“Have a good holiday,” my friend Karen said to me.
“Thank you, but it’s not a holiday.”
“Oh, I …”
It happens every year at the beginning of Ramadan. Each time I go into a discourse on Ramadan:101. It will happen again this year, so let me pre-empt the well-meaning ‘Happy Holidays’ greeting.
The month of Ramadan is not a holiday:
· We don’t get the month off, or the week off as in Christmas holidays. Like the rest of the world, we wake up every morning and put in a full day’s work, like any other day, like any other month, this time on an empty stomach.
· We don’t take a vacation and go off to Disneyworld or the Grand Canyon, as one does during ‘the holidays’. In fact, we put off all out-of-town trips for after Ramadan, and then just shelter in place, transitioning into the mode of spiritual reflection.
· We don’t share gifts as in Christmas presents. Instead, we share God’s gifts to us through charitable giving. If your charitable organization needs funds, your best bet is to reach out to a Muslim family during Ramadan, and then watch the coffers fill up.
· We don’t march in a Ramadan parade. We make quiet time at home to immerse ourselves in reflection with the aim to deepen our spirituality. We recite and study the Quran, taking in the beauty of God’s message, and savoring it’s taste.
· We don’t flock to restaurants for a holiday brunch. We take a break from eating and drinking. No water either.
In fact, the only holiday is a holiday from eating.
As I prepare spiritually for Ramadan, there is a huge physical component to it. And I don’t mean the food part. It’s the coffee. In the week leading up to Ramadan, I will start cutting down on my coffee intake or I am in for withdrawal headaches. Big time.
Countdown to Ramadan:
14 days: Invitations for iftar i.e. breaking of the fast, start populating my calendar.
10 days: I cook a couple of dozen dinners and freeze them in single meal servings. It is hard to cook while fasting.
7 days: Time to cut back on coffee.
5 days: Stock up on dates, the traditional fruit to break our fast.
2 days: Ramadan Mubarak greetings will light up my iPhone with sparkling green graphics of the crescent.
The night before:
At 9:30 pm, I will lay out our prayer rugs, face south-east to Mecca, and perform the special Ramadan taraweeh prayers. Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf will lead the prayers over Zoom. He will recite verses from the opening chapters of the Quran. At the end, we will make the supplication to Allah, asking that he guide us on the right path, and we will conclude by making the intention for fasting the next morning. It should bring us to 10:00 pm or 10:15 pm. This will be our daily ritual for the next 30 days.
Before I turn in for the night, I will set the alarm clock for 4:30 a.m.
March 23rd, Day 1 of Ramadan:
The alarm buzzes. No snoozing. Up-so-Daisy and into the kitchen. My husband Khalid and I will sit down to have an early breakfast, the suhoor. A very early, very spicy meal. Khalid is undergoing chemotherapy for cancer treatment and therefore cannot fast. But he joins me to keep me company. In lieu of fasting, he will feed the hungry, one person every day.
5:00 am. My cherished moments of the day: I will curl up with my coffee and the Quran. I will savor the verses of the Quran revealed by God, absorb His magnificence, and take in the beauty of His revelations. I will reflect and ponder over the wisdom of His commandments, and His love for humanity. It is quiet outside: no sirens, no traffic. And as I delve deeper into the Quran, a quiet descends over me and I feel my soul awaken.
5:35 a.m. It is almost time. I will take the last few sips of coffee and maybe some water.
5:41 a.m.: The call to prayer sounds over my adhan clock announcing daybreak. Time to start my fast. The sky has lost its darkness. No more eating, no more drinking until sunset.
I will perform my ablution, the ritual purification, and wash my hands, face, arms, and feet, and then stand in prayer. In the silence of daybreak, I will pray for an easy fast and ask God to enhance my piety and make me conscious of Him. That is the ultimate purpose of Ramadan, to make us God conscious.
During the day, I will go about my usual business, with a few exceptions. I will make the time to read the Quran and reflect on its verses. I will tune into video lectures on Quranic ethics and absorb the soul stirring messages. Every time I reach out for that cookie jar, I will remind myself that today, God has asked that I refrain from eating during the day. I must refrain from anger, gossip, lying, cheating, and other forbidden acts. It is easy to avoid these ill deeds while fasting. For one thing, you don’t have the energy to get angry. And once you are in a reflective mode, you become quieter, and you feel the stirrings of your soul.
5:30 pm.
Khalid and I will join friends for iftar breaking of the fast in their homes, or in mosques. The Islamic Center of NYU has an open invitation for daily iftars, free too. If you have never been to an iftar, make a Muslim friend and get yourself invited. It is festive, joyous, brimming with a community spirit, and lots of food. Other houses of worship will hold interfaith iftars. I already have two on my calendar, one at a Synagogue and the other at a church. And since this spring, Ramadan coincides with Easter and Passover, my calendar is filling up with interfaith seders, and interfaith services. How about that!
6:30 p.m.
Our hosts are hurriedly setting up the food for the iftar and the chatter is getting louder and more animated. Ladies are hugging one another with Ramadan Mubarak greetings; children are running around. The aroma of food is whetting our appetite.
6:50 p.m.
We take our places at our tables, or on the rug, and wait for sundown. People are raising their hands in supplication, some reciting the attributes of Allah on their prayer beads. There is a faint hum in the air.
6:56 p.m.
The adhan call to prayer announces the end of the 13-hour fast. Everyone picks up a date, savoring its sweetness and taking a sip of that cool refreshing drink. Breaking fast is the most delicious sensation, physically and spiritually. Thank you Allah for the food. We line up for the maghrib prayer, shoulder to shoulder, and then the moment we have been waiting for. Dinner. It is quiet; no one is talking. The only sounds you hear are that of the forks clicking the dishes.
Some days, we will break our fast at home and often join friends for a Zoom iftar. Keep that communal spirit going.
9:30 p.m.
We are back home and take our place for the special taraweeh prayer.
And the daily cycle continues. As the days get longer, the fast begins earlier and ends later. In 30 days, it will be over, and we will all gather on April 21st for Eid prayer to celebrate. That is our holiday. On that day, you can wish me Eid Mubarak, or a happy holiday.
Till then, Ramadan Mubarak, Happy Easter, Chag Pesach.
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