Our Executive Director, Ahmed Rehab, had his Ramadan op-ed published by USA Today.

https://www.usatoday.com/.../during.../7269775001/...

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While a solemn month of fasting, prayer, and reflection, Ramadan is also a festive time culturally speaking, in which family and friends gather every evening for cozy meals and prayers.

In many countries around the world, reduced work hours are in place; homes, schools, and public squares are adorned with lanterns, crescent moons and stars; TV listings switch to special Ramadan programming; and, seasonal songs and litanies complete the nostalgic atmosphere.

And then there are the lasting memories. In England where I spent part of my childhood, Ramadan coincided with summer which meant ridiculously long daylight hours: my parents broke their fast close to 10pm (luckily, I was too young to fast then!)

In Egypt, where we moved next, it was shorter days than England, though much hotter. I began my first fast there as a pre-adolescent; I never felt as accomplished as when sunset rolled in – and cold water never tasted so good. But my lasting impression of Ramadan in Egypt was standing in our balcony listening to the beautifully haunting Athans at daybreak echoing over Cairo’s minaret-dotted skyline in harmonious cacophony.

Here in the US, as Ramadan dipped into winter, my father would leave for work very early so he could come back in time for sunset which was around 4:30pm where there would always be people invited over to share my mother’s specialty three course meals with us.

This Ramadan will be more trying for me than most years. It is my first Ramadan without my father, who sadly did not survive the pandemic. Our family meals, like many other families who lost love ones over the past year, will not be the same. Moreover, thousands of miles away from home, Muslims in China, Uighurs, face ethnic cleansing campaigns for as much as fasting Ramadan. And in between, in Ukraine, a senseless war rages on. I for one, could not wait for my course in spiritual rejuvenation to begin.

Naturally, it might seem counter-intuitive that, for Muslims, our most anticipated month in the Islamic calendar year is a month in which we abstain from all food, water, and intimacy from dusk till dawn. But, for about two billion Muslims worldwide, and over three-and-a-half here in the US, it is exactly that. Indeed, we mark a sixty day or so countdown leading up to Ramadan as if it were the Super Bowl or the World Cup.

What gives?

Well, if you’ve ever worked out, you get it. You get that it is grueling work to frequent a gym and lift those weights, complete those reps, run those miles, and stick to that diet. And yet we do it, some of us even look forward to doing it. Are we masochists? Nope, we just realize the end result is worth it: a healthier, happier body. We understand that the path to that elusive goal is never easy, that it cannot be a one-time gig; that it has to be regimented if it is to work – and so we may even come to enjoy the process as much as the result. In fact, we’ve developed a $100 billion industry around it.

We get all this when it comes to body culture, it’s time we understood it for soul culture. In Islam, we think of our souls as the essence of our being, manifested in our beliefs, attitudes, outlooks and behaviors. Just like our bodies, our souls need regular exercise to stay healthy and happy, and just like our bodies, they wither away with wanton neglect.

Ramadan is a sort of spiritual workout. Though for the body itself, there are the ancient health benefits only recently made popular by the intermittent fasting crowd, training the body to rise above its urges reminds us that there is more to our happiness than instant temporal gratification, and that true contentment is at the level of inner peace.

Temporary abstention can help cultivate a true sense of gratitude and appreciation, literally renewing your taste for things. You know how they say, “you don’t know a good thing till it’s gone?” Ramadan tries to teach us to know it well before it’s gone, or we’re gone. Big or small. From honoring the value of every morsel of bread and sip of water to honoring your parents, from loving that roof over your head to loving those who live under it.

As I deal with personal loss as well as the pain of strangers far away, I am thankful for this annual opportunity for healing, celebration, reflection and personal growth.