Bismillahi Ar Rahmani Ar Raheem
My life has changed since I last updated this blog…7 years ago! I completed my Master’s in Public Health, got married, and have two beautiful little girls, alhamdulillah.
This blog has been waiting too long. It has garnered quite a bit of attention, and I have not been doing my part in paying that attention. Forgive me.
We are in unprecedented times to be sure. It is Ramadan, 1441, and we are in the middle of the SARS-COV-2 Pandemic. Most of the Muslims around the world are doing their part by staying indoors and avoiding large gatherings, even if it means not praying together.
This year, Mecca is empty. Masjids are silent. The doors to our homes are decidedly shut. And we mourn the absence of a Ramadan of a which we’re fond.
We miss iftars and suhoors with our friends and families. We miss taraweeh and halaqas (religious discussions) with our communities and the sense of unity we get entering the masjid and praying together.
So what are we to do? Is it wrong to grieve the social aspect of Ramadan?
I think that for some of us Ramadan has become simply a social event. A time of year that has become synonymous with iftar parties and suhoor runs to pancake houses with friends, the effort to make the external fast the primary one. There is, in my opinion, a loss of internal reflection and contemplation.
I think the ugly truth is that the distractions of social events serve to facilitate the passing of an admittedly difficult month. In our little community here in Maryland, Ramadan was split into four or five iftar parties. One or two each weekend until Eid. Oddly enough, of the people present at these gatherings, not all pray Maghrib after breaking their fast, and fewer still attend taraweeh.
Now, take away the parties, the gatherings, the veritable celebration of food, and its already difficult. But now remove even the chance for community taraweeh, which is a blessed Sunnah of the Prophet (SAW), not a fard, and Ramadan hardly seems recognizeable.
But look at this.
Zaid ibn Thabit related in Bukhari:
“The Prophet ﷺ took a room made of date palm leaves mats in the mosque. Allah’s Messenger ﷺ prayed in it for a few nights till the people gathered [to pray the Tarawih prayer behind him]. Then on the 4th night the people did not hear his voice and they thought he had slept, so some of them started humming in order that he might come out. The Prophet ﷺ then said, ‘You continued doing what I saw you doing till I was afraid that this [Tarawih prayer] might be enjoined on you, and if it were enjoined on you, you would not continue performing it. Therefore, O people! Perform your prayers at your homes, for the best prayer of a person is what is performed at his home except the compulsory congregational) prayer.'” seeker’s guidance
After this, the taraweeh prayers were offered by the Prophet (SAW) and his companions individually. The custom of a community gathering for taraweeh facilitates the establishment of a Muslim community in an increasingly anti-religious and hedonistic world. However, it has become important for reasons different from its initial practice, and we should be careful to change the things dear to The Prophet (SAW), for they are also dear to Allah (SWT).
The importance of taraweeh is what we bring to it. I remember Ramadans of my youth, being shuffled somewhat forcibly by my parents into the car to attend taraweeh. The spirituality of the act was lost, and most of it felt tedious. But now, due to the pandemic, being forced to pray taraweeh at home feels different.
I am not rushing to the mosque and scrambling to find parking. I’m not distracted by the arrival of my friends or the constant chatter of the women and children around me. I’m not inwardly or outwardly complaining of how hot I feel, surrounded by hundreds of others in a room where there are no windows and only a few fans. I am not trying to ignore the headache coming on because of it, so soon after breaking my fast.
I’m at home. I can take a break and eat or drink something if I wish. I can open a window or turn on the fan. I can look forward to listening or reading the Qur’an and actually have the headspace to contemplate the meaning. I can spend time with my husband, and discuss the Qur’an with him. I can pray taraweeh with him.
So, no, Ramadan is not like it was last year. It can be even better. Without the parties, gatherings, and mechanical community taraweeh, it is just me and Allah.
Our Beloved Prophet Muhammad SAW said:
“Allah said: ‘Every deed of the son of Adam is for him except fasting; it is for Me and I shall reward for it’” Bukhaari 1761, Muslim 1946
Ramadan is between you and Allah. Fasting is for Allah. The abstinence of worldly needs, such as eating, drinking, and sex is routine. But the loss of other distractions such as entertainment in various forms (seeing movies, carefree shopping, and eating at restaurants), not being able to gather in groups for any reason, forces us to realize that Allah has given us a rare chance.
It is the chance to reconnect with Allah in a new way, without the usual distractions. Soon, inshaAllah, the Pandemic will be over, and we will reunite with our friends and family with joy, and also resume our daily routines. But for now, in this blessed month, its vital to take advantage of the solitude and absorb the true nature of Ramadan. Contemplate and learn your religion. Improve your relationship with the people you live with. Improve your relationship with Allah by fasting and praying with sincerity. Go to websites such as LaunchGood, and donate to a worthy cause as often as you can. Be grateful. Be grateful for everything Allah has given you.
You grieve the loss of certain freedoms because Allah had given them to you in abundance.
“And verily, We gave Luqman wisdom, saying: Give thanks unto Allah; and whosoever giveth thanks, he giveth thanks for the good of his own soul. And whosoever refuseth-Lo! Allah is Absolute, Owner of Praise.” Quran; 31:12
And Allah Knows Best.
By The Fig and The Olive 