As much as it is about fasting, Ramadan is also about unity, solidarity and empathy. [Picture: via IslamiCity]
As the fiery red ball hovers above the western horizon, Muslim worshippers gather around an assortment of savouries and dates at their local mosque’s courtyard. The pink glow of a setting sun glints off the white walls of the structure, the minarets soaring above.
In the adjacent worship area, the masjid itself, varying tones of recitation blend into a singular soothing hum. Shoulders lean to and fro, dates clasped in the fingers of the worshippers as they await the athan (call to prayer), which will signal the end of the day’s fast.
The atmosphere at your local mosque is at the same time so beautifully similar to those at other mosques the world over, yet distinguished by the various traditions from region to region. In a way, the Muslim ummah is connected through their collective worship. The harmony is blissful.
Yet, comfort is a luxury not afforded to all. While we open our fasts in unison, someone somewhere has a minute before they must run from bombs raining upon them. Muslims in Palestine must, humiliatingly, be told by an occupying force when and where they can worship. Or, in the far East, Uyghurs are policed so that they don’t get to fast.
While we devour all of the samosas and pies in our sight after a long day of abstention, we forget those whose only repast is a date and a glass of water, if they’re lucky. And it goes like so for days, months, years.
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Plenty in a time of scarcity
For Hassan Lorgat, a social justice activist, this begs the question of, “Why is it that in a society of plenty, people are going hungry?” It is also why Ramadan reminds him of his responsibility towards humanity: solidarity.
“The joint iftars, the praying together, the fasting together, [are] acts of cleansing for oneself, but also solidarity with those who have to live this life without food,” he says.
“There’s a difference between starving and fasting, but we must be aware that there are people who go to bed without food and that is starvation.”
What makes us human makes us one. The thread of empathy cuts through the hearts of all, binding us in a unity unlike any other. It is about unity and solidarity, empathy and compassion.
Lorgat invokes the words of Martin Luther King Jr, about injustice anywhere being a malicious threat to justice everywhere, saying, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly”.
“All these [sufferings] come together because we are human. We can feel for those who are suffering, and they don’t have to look like us, because that’s our common humanity,” he adds.
Lorgat says Ramadan should also be a time when we generously contribute to society. It is a time when we should dig deep, unflinchingly, into our pockets to support the empowerment of humanity.
“Yes, the giving of alms is very important to build a just society,” he says. “But, the act of solidarity goes a little bit farther in that you give of yourself – not just a few coins when some beggar passes by.”
In fact, Lorgat stresses that sharing that we love – a prophetic teaching – is so important to a Muslim that he says, “The true practice of Islam is not just in talking, but in sharing that gift of what we have”.
So, the next time you draw a date to your watering lips when the muadhin calls out the adhan, reflect on the plight of your brothers and sisters wherever in this wide world they may be. We may be fortunate today, but we can never guarantee that the blessings of today will walk with us to our graves. Be grateful – and generous.
Inayet Wadee spoke to Hassan Lorgat about unity and Ramadan. Watch the full discussion here.
