From Miriam, India team
It’s the month of Ramadan (Ramzan in our Urdu/Hindustani community). I’m still in the US on sabbatical, which is honestly a relief, to be outside the neighborhood during this season of sleep disrupted by calls to prayer and reminders to start the fast, and sometimes pushing myself to fast alongside my neighbors.
With the prevalence of WhatsApp in our slum now, I was able to interview the three women who are my closest connections, to hear in their own words their experience of this month.
The three women are: one of our literacy/health staff; her sister whom we support in discernment and financially since her divorce, as she lives alone with her 4-year-old son; and a mother of three, one of my first and closest friends since we moved into the neighborhood 10 years ago.
Duty and Joy
All the women shared that they fast for the month of Ramzan because it is their duty. For two, I could hear genuine joy and even eagerness for this month of familiar ritual, the promised blessings, and the chance to show God their devotion through action. They explained how in this month, one’s prayers are all answered, all sins forgiven, and acts of charity count 100 times in heaven. And one’s mind and heart are filled with prayer and worship.
One woman shared how Ramzan has been her favorite month of the year since childhood when she started fasting. Most girls in the neighborhood start fasting at 7 or 8 years old, and all who are healthy are expected to fast. My neighbor and friend poetically shared that in the Muslim faith fasting is as necessary to one’s well-being as food is. And likewise faith itself is vital nourishment.
When I asked what the hardest part of Ramzan is, one named having to leave the house and do work while fasting. Another shared how weak she feels in the evenings after breaking fast and drinking water. The third names specifically refraining from water all day as the hardest part, when Ramzan comes during a hot time of year.
A Container for Faith, and space for Questions
I sense in my neighbors a passion of devotion, rather than fear, that draws them to faithfully keep their Ramzan rituals. However, the word “duty” has such a different meaning in the non-Western context than the Western idea of “obligation” in English. Duty is the core of the life of the faithful – commitment and devotion, which I personally have a very mixed relationship with. My own Coptic Orthodox background, filled with ritual, liturgy, sacrament, nourished me for years in the familiarity and depth of meaning in the container it created for me. It also however (at least in the community in which I grew up) discouraged questions and faith struggle.
Today, while having deep appreciation for “containers,” I also long so see encouragement of the natural curiosity I see in my 3-year-old, so that maybe the existing status quo that keeps the marginalized in places of disempowerment can also be questioned, for the creation of communities of love where all are welcome.
God, as our neighbors and the Muslim world fast, guide them with peace and love and courage.
Guide us with trust and willingness to stretch out beyond our comfort.
Amen
