faraway

Last night I finished my one month of fasting for the Holy Muslim month of Ramadhan. This is the fourth year in a row that I have fasted. The fasting begins at sunrise and is broken at sunset. In Jakarta, that means starting the fast at just before 5 AM and breaking the fast at just before 6 PM.

I am hardly the most devout Muslim. I doubt that I ever will be. I was never a good Catholic either. At least I am consistent. But there is something deeply spiritual that appeals to me in Ramadan fasting and it is the one religious observance that I take seriously. The ritual aspect of most organized religions has never moved me. Due in part to my sceptical nature I regard prayer, congregation and pilgrmage as suspiciously reinforcing hierarchy. Islam on the other hand (despite its contemporary manifestations) is an extremely egalitatian philosophy and this best demostrated by Ramadhan.

The first powerful spiritual element that I enjoy about Ramadan is the reminder of the importance of restraint discipline and patience. In today's world the average individual can consume a diversity of goods and material that former generations could only dream of (with the accompanying waste). Any appetite can be easily sated in today's consumer society (witness fast food, hypermarkets, Internet shopping). The restraint that Muslim fasters practice for a month every year deeply appeals to my belief in the restraint humans must accept as the responsible custodians of our irreplacable planet. Ramadan annually reminds me of the difference between what I need and what I want.

Fasting Muslims must also demonstrate great kindness, refrain from anger or strong emotions during Ramadan despite our hunger pangs. This is not easy but and it tests our displine and patience.

Ramadan is not just about fasting, we are obliged to give alms to the poor as well. For me Allah intended these two juxtaposed religious obligations to forever warn Muslims of the cruel reality that poverty and deprivation will always exist and that anytime, anybody can suddenly lose everything. Nobody is exempt: rich or poor, the powerful or the weak. Even in extremely equalitarian nations with widespread social programs, fate remains blind. Natural and/or human-made disasters alike make no distinction between prince or pauper. You can lose everything you own overnight. These last twelve months have provided ample examples in the form of the Asian Tsunami, Huricane Katrina or the South Asian Earthquake. Likewise, modern diseases like HIV/AIDs, SARS and Avian Flu can instantly ruin lives and underline the need for the world, not to mention communities, to work together. Allah's message was "Never forget how it feels to be hungry. Never refuse to help out those less fortunate than yourself."

I enjoy Ramadan because it makes me reflect and recall my values, beliefs and course in life. When I fast, I remember my hungry anxiety when I lived for six months in a rural West African village in 1991 with a poor local family. I ate what they ate and how much they ate. Basically I was getting only half as much calories as I did in Canada. I was hungry all the time. When I fast, I am reminded that we must reduce and restrain our appetites to heal our wounded earth. When I give alms to the poor, I remember that charity and philanthropy can change lives of those less fortunate than myself.

Jerome