Even though Muslims have been fasting for over 1400 years, every Ramadan some of the same important issues and questions arise. Is the month merely meant to signify abstinence from food and drink? What is its deeper spiritual importance? How are Muslims around the world changing, and are they unified in their traditions and beliefs? Over the course of the month, Al-Ahram Weekly will attempt to address these and other matters. In doing so, we hope to provide Muslim and non-Muslim readers alike with a primer on the essence of this very special month The heart of the matter Essam El-Safty* thinks that Ramadan is what one makes of it -- here, there and everywhere In a secular world, with materialistic ambitions often poles apart from spiritual aspirations, one might be inclined to think that the mere idea of God is unequivocally discarded. The concept of the divine, however, rests within ourselves: social or cultural manifestations are but conventional accessories to its tangible forms. Inversely, the lack thereof may be a propelling force toward spiritual growth. From a traditional Middle-Eastern point of view, rejection of one's own cultural and religious heritage may often be inherent to a Western education, and hence the genesis of an unprofessed conflict usually sanctioned by a categorical rejection of established values. Islam, typically, is bound to get the biggest share in this denial mechanism. Thus, some Muslims living abroad have seen their roots swept away by the fallacious storm of modernity. They have lost their identity without really, in counterpart, becoming fully accepted products of their new world. Others, who draw benefit from the absence of mystical support, are more fortunate: their religious credo is reinforced as they take upon themselves the most honourable charge of being a role model to their Muslim brothers. I have seen both models abroad. But is Muslim society itself exempt from alienation? For one, the social celebrations aimed at greeting Islamic feasts are not only peripheral to the true quintessence of the religion, but defy its very spirit by transforming it to a pretext for recurring consumerist festivals. It is hurtful and deeply offensive to see that, in the holy month of Ramadan for instance, ingenious culinary marathons are at the heart of the celebrations; or that those long anticipated gourmandise plans even translate, sometimes, into disgraceful domestic arguments. Similarly, the vociferously oblivious activities that immediately follow Iftar time are disturbing and shameful -- but even more so is their underlying testimony to the fact that endurance and spiritual retreat are ignored, in fact wholeheartedly disdained, by the erection and multiplication of those Ramadan pavilions wherein belly-dancing, water pipes and loud music entertain Muslim crowds awaiting imsak (the time before dawn when Muslims abstain from eating and drinking to start a new day of fasting). Thus, some of the most dangerous fallacies about Islam are not only to be found in strictly non-Muslim societies, but also here at home, where mundane trivialities alleviate the essence of faith. Ironically, in a society where those activities are not unavoidably associated with the celebration of Ramadan, where there is virtually nothing in the air that even reminds believers of its event, there is perhaps more room in one's heart for a true test of devout fortitude and moral strength. Along with a handful of other Muslims, I have experienced the difference myself. Despite the seemingly mechanical way of life in Western society, and notwithstanding the very demanding work ethics inherent to it, we always had more time to focus our full attention on prayers and reciting the holy Qur'an than we did at home. Our different colleagues always showed respect toward our faith, and have at times invited some of us to give lectures on various Islamic principles. When fasting in particular, we strove to display further proofs of patience, lenience, affability and tolerance, and constantly made it clear to our entourage that abstaining from food or drink is but complimentary to refraining from ill-doing or saying. Undoubtedly, and notwithstanding the above reservations, we do long for the loud and clear call for prayer. In Ramadan, we do miss the very sight of the crowd of believers rushing to mosques for congregational taraweeh or tahajjod prayers, the street banquets held for the poor in the name of the Most Merciful; we equally miss assisting at this sudden and collective awakening of faith or at the atmosphere of unparalleled quietude and salutary solitude that one finds in many mosques. The good old-fashioned cry of the mesahharati ( Imsak Herald), the nostalgic voice of recitor Mohamed Refaat or those of the Naqshabandi, and the illuminated Qur'anic interpretations by Sheikh Mohamed Metwalli El-Shaarawi are also some of the mystical monuments we grew accustomed to associate with Ramadan in our homeland. Abroad however, we counterbalanced this lack of spiritual support by setting up a modest knowledge society that meets twice a week in Ramadan, and which is entrusted with a specific mandate: each member is called upon to conduct research on a previously agreed upon Islamic topic and to propose it for discussion at the following meeting. The debates usually create a highly constructive atmosphere of moral and virtuous emulation, and provide the subject matter for subsequent Friday khotba (Sermons) in a small mosque in the vicinity. For, indeed, Islam arises and is nourished from within. Consequently, this is a call for a reverential interpretation of the holy in a culture that so ostensibly denigrates its own distinctiveness. I hereby wish to extend a genuine invitation to all Muslims to avoid the deceptive products of corporeal indulgence, to rid themselves from the burden of those long-standing consumer-targeted habits, to find joy in the discharge of pious and virtuous deeds, rather than in the gratification of worldly desires, to make the month of Ramadan a unique opportunity for self-examination and righteous labour, to revisit their cultural perception of the holy, and, therefore, to project, concurrently and before the rest of the non-Muslim world, a non- distorted image of proper and deferential solidarity -- not in frivolous details, but in ascertained articles of faith. * The writer is professor of French and Greek Philosophy at St Thomas University, NB, Canada. His latest publications include La Psyche Humaine (The Human Soul, Paris, 2003) and La Mort Tragique (Tragic Death, Paris, 2005).
