Pleasantly Surprised

My eyes are tired. Tired of being open, and tired of around 12 hours today in front of the computer screen. Nevertheless, I have to share at least a glimpse of what troubles and joys my heart this week. I like it when people ask me how 'the fast' or 'Ramadan' is going. The butchers in my local Halal Butcher shop ask me, and we all smile saying الحمد لله "Thanks be to God!" I don't mind when the couple of ladies at work ask me how the fast is going - I like to explain that I feel surprisingly well. How does my mouth not dry up by the 18th hour of fasting? And today I spoke with a dear friend all the way in Saudi Arabia, whose smile I could hear when I replied jubilantly to her questions about my Ramadan 2011. IN fact, when I came home from work today I found a huge box covered with layers of duct tape and Arabic shipping messages at the foot of the stairs with my name on it. I wouldn't let myself open it until after I showered and prayed Asr. Otherwise, I knew I would be so absorbed in the thoughtfulness of their gift that I would easily delay the prayer by one more hour than necessary.

They sent me two varieties of Riyadh dates, and in enormous quantities. I couldn't help but ask her in my thank you email and over the phone - How do you expect me to eat all of these? I'm worried that I am not generous enough to be Muslim. These people will give to you whatever you need that they have in a heartbeat without any hesitation, as if generosity is a natural reflex. I'm not really like that, yet. Maybe with a few people, but generally, I have to admit that I think generosity through a few times. If I were not in debt, would I be more generous? Zakat is strongly emphasised all year for Muslims, but particularly during Ramadan. From what I understand, due to my school loans, I am exempt. This is probably why debt and the charging of interest are not permissible in Islam to begin with.

It's nearly one in the morning and I'm munching on my cookies and drinking as much water as I can to rehydrate and saturate my body in preparation for tomorrow's fast. For the past few days I've been watching lectures regarding Islamic perspectives on Jesus Christ. As I mentioned before, even though I personally prefer the Muslim understanding of Jesus, I don't want to 'mistakenly' deny the Jesus I was raised to believe in. I still want to hear more explanations from Islamic scholars on the Christian belief in Christ's death and resurrection. But I've watched enough Ahmed Deedat this week to now have my Bible open on my desk. I hadn't open my Bible in months, but Muslim Deedat challenges his audience to open it. At some moments I felt like I was listening to Gordon Brubacher in a Boyer Hall classroom again. 

I read the book of Matthew and excerpts from John in one sitting. This is the first time I've read the Gospels since a great deal of Islamic study, and can I say that the Gospel, the words and stories of Jesus, felt clearer and more illuminated to me than ever before. I have some initial theories about how the Quran, which is not a book of stories, illuminated the message of Jesus. But for the moment, I am content to only begin to convey how pleased I am that rather than putting me off from the Bible, somehow Islam has drawn me closer to it.

Correction

Friends, I was wrong about something. There are definitely more than 30, what Christians would call "books" of the Quran. There are 114. I misunderstood one suggestion to read the Quran in 30 sections throughout the month of Ramadan, so as to have read it in full by the end of the month. Thus far I've memorized two more surahs (verses) of Al-Quran, and my modest goal is to memorize two more in the next two weeks. Over the past couple of days I've been listening to lectures by Nouman Ali Khan, found of Al-Bayyinah Institute. In his lectures on Divine Speech, he mentions several times that the Quran is promised to be easy to memorize - hundreds of thousands of Muslims all over the globe have memorized Al-Quran in Arabic from cover to cover. Ali Khan asserts that when a sincere individual aspires to learn and memorize the Quran, the divine intervenes to make the process easier.

I have no other explanation for why I've been able to to memorize passages of the Quran quite quickly - I don't remember being able to memorize Biblical passages without a lot of struggle. I read and listen to recitations of the Quran when I'm studying and memorizing, so that when I'm reciting them myself, I can hear the song and rhythm of the reciter in my memory.

I watched an interview with Ali Khan, in which he describes his transition from atheism to Islam. I have found his arguments regarding the miraculous character of the Quran quite intriguing. The questions tumbling around in my mind today pertain to the resurrection - why is it so necessary in Christianity, and nothing close to a matter of concern in Islam? Having once been a devout Christian, how have I managed to feel comfortable without a Christ who is crucified and resurrected? Knowing well the person I used to be, I can't help but fear at some moments that I'm betraying Christ, that I could be following the wolves in sheeps clothing who Jesus warned Christians of.

But today as I walked in the sun through the dried grass of wide open fields that have become my refuge these past two months, I decided that the Quran is clarifying my understanding of at a least a few of Christianity's intentions. I remembered how I felt three years ago; The Bible seemed to raise more questions than answers for me. Our theological discussions at Messiah College never came close to answering whether God is violent or not, if he would send his own son to be torture and killed. I couldn't find clear guidelines about relationships and marriage in the Bible. They may have been there in some form or another, but they were not clear enough for me. I was dismayed observing countless Christian clusters each devising their own interpretations of the text, their own denomination or definition of Christianity. Christians can't even agree on whether Jesus demanded non-violence or not.

The Quran is mysterious, and requires extensive study. At the same time, Islam is extremely practical and accessible. Since there are many rules and guidelines, some situations that may have seemed like gray areas to me in Christianity appear more black and white, whether I like it or not. I'm please that it's also true that stories of the prophets that seem to be told more thoroughly in the Bible, also help me conduct a more informed reading of the Quran.

When I sat down to write this post, the first sentence was going to be "I am so thirsty." It's true. At some points today I even forgot about food, and all I could wish for was water. For the past few hours all I've wanted is a sip. My bladder is completely empty. Now, 20 minutes before the time to break the fast, I'm feeling hunger pains again, along with terrible thirst. After I eat some dates and drink some water, I will pray: "The thirst is gone, the veins are moistened and the reward is confirmed, if Allah [Ta'ala] Wills."

Shock of Terror in London

Usually I read my book on the train ride home after work. But on Tuesday evening, I couldn't. Many staff members left work early on Tuesday, like me, in order to ensure a safe journey home, before the rioters hit our neck of the woods. All passengers on the platform and train were in sober moods; just a few were on their mobiles complaining to their friends or loved ones about where the senseless violence was kicking off next. Even in my London suburb there was a noticeably increased police presence, and the convenient stores that are always open shut early, most likely at the recommendation of the police. I sat in my room watching BBC news for hours of the evening, attempting to convey to my family at home the anger of the general British public at the unthinking youth who were waging war on the police, and on their own neighbors. How strange it was to witness citizens transforming into enemies of their own government and country en masse. 

I remembered the incredible Egyptian Revolution, which the world witnessed earlier this year, and the Tunisian Revolution. These are examples of masses of people gathering in an attempt to bring positive change to their homelands with as little violence as possible. Conversely, England has been a mad house. Youth (and adults!) who participated were incredibly amused by their ability to terrorize their fellow citizens by destroying valuable property and stealing for sport. The young people of the country have lost their sense of self-respect, and in turn, any sense of respect for others. They don't know hard work (At one point I thought they should take every offender out to a farm to put their energy to good use). Their parents are absent - or just as oblivious to the sins of theft, terrorism, and the destruction of another's property. Where is the moral compass of the society? The youth have no sense of having to answer to anyone but themselves. Many have said that they will continue to vandalize property and steal until they are caught - and even after "the police do nothing" to them. Perhaps any remnant of moral thinking in this nation remains with the grandparents of these youth, who were once exposed to at least some religious thinking, some consciousness of a higher power to answer to. 

I fear the self-destruction of society. But it is evident now that a people who completely lack any comprehension of what is right and what is wrong, will eventually destroy itself. This leads me to think that the sinners of Noah's time and of Lot's time, which I've just read about in Surat Hud of the Quran, may well have just destroyed themselves, without any assistance.

Unfortunately, I have had to postpone the aforementioned meal with the Eritrean family, due to the terror still lurking throughout London. Nevertheless, every day of Ramadan I learn something new.

Time to Fast

I do not intend to sound overly religious, or extreme. I admit that I am excited about everything new I'm learning, but I want to point out that this is my primary space for expressing an experience that is largely inward, underneath my skin, and mostly unspoken.

One colleague from work was asking me whether Muslims break the fast at sunset, or in accordance to another time or signal. She told me the time of the sunset, but the time for Iftar is 20-30 minutes later than that. The instruction in Al-Quran is as follows:

And eat and drink until the white thread of dawn becomes distinct to you from the black thread [of night]. Then complete the fast until the night [i.e., sunset].

At one point in the conversation I found myself speaking in the first person plural, as if I were part of the Muslim community. It was as if I stepped back and heard myself saying that 'we start fasting' or 'we break the fast,' surprised at myself for considering myself part of Islam. On Wednesday evening I am invited to break the fast with an Eritrean family, and I'm quite looking forward to it. I've prepared a gift of dates from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and I am hoping to make a sweet treat to give the family as well. 

The Most-Merciful

Everything was going just fine with the fast, up until day four. I had to see a dentist on Thursday, and it turns out that I have to take a 5 day course of antibiotic for a some trouble with my gums. On Thursday evening I rang a Muslim woman who is also a General Practitioner in Colchester. I explained that I am fasting, but I have to take this antibiotic 3 times a day with food, which would interrupt my fast. She explained that Allah does not want us to suffer or to be in pain. Since I need the medicine, I should take it for 5 days and then resume the fast. I will then be able to make up the 5 missed days of fasting at another time in the year. She told me "Allah is Most-Merciful." Although I was very disappointed to break the fast, I suppose this is my chance to experience the tangible mercy and understanding of Allah during Ramadan.

Otherwise, I continue reading one "book" of the Quran per day, as there are 30 in total, and I learned recently that Muslims traditionally read one "book" of the Quran every day during Ramadan. These days my only comfort is found in prayer and Al-Quran. Relationships with my family and intimate friends feel unstable, along with my job situation. I feel at moments as if everything is falling apart, and I am powerless to hold it together. What would I do without belief that Allah is my Protector and Provider?

I spoke with my mother again about my conversion to Islam. She is so ashamed, and so disappointed. It must be painful for a parent who raises their child with a particular expectation, only to have their child drift far from it. I can't imagine how helpful it would be to have support from my family in this process. For a moment, my mother told me not to come home, if this were the case, but she did take it back in the end. I know she can't completely reject me, but her disapproval pains me very deeply. When everyone else abandons me, I know that my mother is most loyal. This is one instance in which Allah proves to be even more loyal than my own mother.

I Could Hear a Raindrop

This morning I overslept my 2:35am alarm until 3am, so I missed my chance to drink a few more cups of water just before the fast began. Nevertheless, the strength was given to me to keep the fast until 9:00pm this evening. At work my manager asked me if I would like a cup of tea, as she was going to make her own. I told her that I am fasting Ramadan. I could feel her disappointment that I am drawing closer to Islam; she was not successful at her attempt to make me a Jehovah's Witness. And with as much as she knows about Equal Opportunities in the workplace, she was critical of the Muslim's restriction from food and water for such a long period, particularly of water. I assured her that it is fine, and that I rehydrate after sundown. 

I did not feel overwhelmed, despite my manager's constant references to food. She loves to discuss recipes and memorable meals, and ironically today she seemed to dwell on the topic even more than usual. She munched on noisy fruits and snacks today - behind me I could hear her chewing her apple and other treats loudly. My stomach maintained a dull, empty ache throughout the whole day. She asked me why we can't eat food and drink water, and I tried to defend the exercise of self-discipline. 

Ramadan 2011 feels to me like a rite of passage to Islam. When I disclose to others that I am fasting, I have to explain my serious intent to convert to Islam, particularly at work, where I want to have a good reputation among my colleagues. Personally, knowing that Ramadan is one of Islam's five pillars leads me to consider it a challenge, which will reveal whether I have the stamina and self-discipline required by the faith.

I left work at 5 this evening, but arrived home 45 minutes later than usual due to late trains. The afternoon was hot, and my legs felt sore and weak, as I walked home. I took a refreshing shower, prayed Al-Dhuhr, studied Surat Al-Kursey, and decided to rest. When my alarm went off at 8:45pm, I thought it was morning, judging by the warm air drifting in my window, the birdsongs filling the air, and the look of the sky. The sun could just as well have been coming up, as going down. I was pleased to realise I had slept so soundly waiting for Al-Magrib. I got my dates, yoghurt, and water together on my desk waiting for 9:00pm. I washed in preparation for prayer. Minutes before the breaking of the fast, rain started to fall outside, exchanging the warm humidity for a refreshing cool breeze. My windows are still open now, and the rain is pouring heavily, with the meditative sound of a river rushing down a mountainside.

If only I could freely tell my family that I am fasting, and have their support. But since I don't, I have to conceal it, and constantly question my own convictions. I ask myself how I've gotten this far. When I first came to England, I could not even speak of God, especially not in relation to day to day life or activities. I had no religion, I only knew that my ties to Christianity had worn away, and Christianity raised more questions than answers for me. I also came to England with an interest in gaining a deeper of Islam through relationships with Muslim people, an opportunity that I had not had previously in the US. Before I left, someone commented that I would have to learn how to drink more alcohol if I planned to make friends in England. Even then, back in 2008 I remarked that this would not be necessary, because I would seek out good, Muslim friends. 

Some desire to be more politically aware, more religiously informed, more multi-culturally conscious translated into me seeking out Islam. I've learned a great deal about Indian and Hindu culture as well over these past few years, and about life all over the globe, but Islam drew me in quite uniquely, as if I could reconnect parts of who I was before religion completely let me down and lose hope. Can my family not be pleased that I will at least not live without religion, without any faith or spiritual discipline at all? 

Praying gives me a reason to get out of bed in the morning when nothing else does, and gives structure and meaning to my day. Islam makes me feel more responsible about how I treat myself, and how I treat others. But I can hardly imagine having my family's approval.

There is a First for Everything

Today is the first day of my first fasted Ramadan. I've been looking forward to Ramadan, preparing inwardly and outwardly. I'm fasting because I have come to appreciate Islam more since this time last year, when I was praying, but not fasting. Plane ticket prices gave me serious reason to delay my trip home until September, God-willing landing me back in my mother's home the day after Ramadan. I scoped out shops local to Finsbury Park, ensuring I know from where I can replenish my date supply. I've thought through a fasting routine that will be fairly compatible with my 9-5 work schedule. I have not asked my employer to change my working hours for the fast, although they may be willing to do so if I'm finding work difficult. 

I will set my alarm every morning 10-15 minutes prior to prayer Al-Fajr, so that I can hydrate myself before the fasting begins with a couple glasses of water, and maybe a small final bite to eat. For tomorrow morning, I will set my alarm for 2:35am, giving me 11 minutes before the fast will begin. I will pray at 2:46am, and then return to sleep until I have to wake up for work. I am up and out of the door by 8:10am, consciously ignoring the jug of water on the table in my room, and I catch the 8:18am train. I ignore the sounds of spoons stirring the tea in surrounding mugs at work - on Friday of last week I brought home my mug and tea from work, to exlude the thought from my routine. I only think to myself that person down the hall has a yummy smelling lunch, and keep in mind that my chance will come after dark. I still take my 'lunch' break, but use the time to pray Al-Dhuhr, rest my eyes from the computer screen, work on memorizing one of the four Quranic passages that I intend to memorize this month, and go shopping for my evening meal. 

Today I felt hungry and thirsty, but I was not hurting. I had enough strength and energy to accomplish my required tasks at work, and I even stayed late without much trouble. I felt motivated to fast, and to pursue the self-discipline that Ramadan is able to teach. I want to be calm and patient with others, and hope to not to become short-tempered because I am hungry and thirsty. Today went well enough with the office to myself, and I hope that tomorrow will go just as well, even though my manager will be back to share the office with me.

I'm bewildered at how Islam can turn a life upside down, moving far beyond the reminders of Allah that the 5 daily prayers function as. Here are a billion or so of the world's people, eating and drinking at night when they would normally sleep, in fulfillment of one of Islam's pillars of faith. I'm telling you that I'm drinking water like a fish during these short hours of darkness. It won't be until 9pm tomorrow evening that I'll be able to sip water or consume food. Like last night, I feel nervous now that I will fail somehow tomorrow. I need to draw strength from someone beyond myself.

My sadness this Ramadan is that I'm honouring the ritual in solitude. Ramadan is a characteristically social event, with families and friends typically gathering every evening to break the fast and pray and eat together. It turns out that my housemate who I don't speak to very much is Muslim and is fasting, but we are not close. She is much younger than me, and we don't connect very well. I soak in the visible presence of Muslims who I see in my transit to and from work. I see hijabs and beards and recognize that they are fasting too, for the same reason that I am, and I feel more motivated to go on.

I have a limited budget, and I do not expect that I'll be able to travel to Colchester and break the fast with friends from the Islamic Society there, as I had hoped. The local shopkeepers do not scorn me for walking into their jobs without a dress reaching my shoes and my hair covered. Instead they greet me warmly "Asalaamu aleikum!" as if I am just as welcome into Islam as they are. I wish that one day I could achieve such a hospitable and nonjudgmental character. The butcher who sells me the Halal meat for my Greek dishes smiled widely at me today, and asked me how Ramadan is going. I smiled too, and thanked God it is going well. He and his colleagues call me "Sister." His shop was packed full of men and women, buying up meat and ingredients for their large family meals. I took home a half kilo of minced beef to pump some protein into my moussaka. Since I'm eating it alone, it should last me all week long.

It is common knowledge in Islam that the Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) broke his fast with dates, and something comparable to yogurt. At 9:01pm this evening I clumsily sliced open the air tight package of dates from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia and scrambled my fingers inside to catch one. I ate them slowly, and I didn't eat as many as I thought I would. When I eat them on the normal afternoon after coming home from work, I usually can hardly stop myself. These dates were the most delicious I've ever tasted, and I had to push myself to eat 5. How peculiar, after an entire day of fasting. I then enjoyed some Greek yogurt with honey, and gulped that down a little easier, since it was cool and I was very thirsty.

It was more than an hour after those dates and yogurt that I decided to enjoy a corn on the cob, and another hour still before I ate a piece of moussaka. Now I'm waiting for my peppermint tea to cool, and eyeing the Koulourakia (Greek cookies) that I baked last Friday evening. I was going to wait until 2:35am to indulge, but who can scarf down cookies after being woken from a deep sleep in the dead of night, knowing they need to rest up for a long day of work? I detect a good excuse to enjoy these cookies with my tea.

So far, the two main challenges that I'm struggling with relate to my current living arrangement, and losing sleep. First, I'm living with a young couple, their mother in law, and their baby. The kitchen is just beside the baby's room, so it's impossible for me to feel comfortable climbing up and down two flights of creaking stairs and tinkering around the kitchen while everyone, including the baby, is sleeping. Second, I'm tired. To drink up enough water and eat slowly I have to stay up late - maybe I'll lay down in my bed at 1:30am, to wake up briefly for 20 minutes, and then get back to sleep.

I will end this entry the way that I will end my day, with one of the passages that I wish to memorize this month, Surat Al-Kursey. The key line of this surat (verse) proclaims that Allah's seat extends over the heavens and earth. Scholars note that the Arabic word for seat used in this passage denotes a seat much more modest than the majestic throne of Allah. The Muslim stands in awe of how just the humble seat of Allah already engulfs the heavens and the earth. How much more, then, can we make of Allah's throne?