We as Muslims complain incessantly about having to live with worldwide discrimination. Now as a Muslim woman of color (that’s what they call people with more color pigmentation than a Caucasian here in Canada) living in a country where ethnic profiling is a hot issue, I say we have every reason to complain. But the reason needs to be closely examined. The anger and frustration at popular perceptions of Islam can be channeled into positive action through which we can better ourselves. Our anger at the constant criticism of our cultural and religious practices can be used to address an issue that is often overlooked as we prepare for Ramadan.
As a society Muslims have a sense of collective responsibility to each other but we seldom follow it up. The precedents set by Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, help propel people down the path of collective responsibility but is this aspect of Islam reflected in the everyday lives of those who are born into, or adhere to, the faith? Do we give in Ramadan because we understand what the significance of sharing is? Or do we give because charity relieves our guilt at living the hectic meaningless lives so many of us live in the pursuit of material comfort?
Ramadan is a time for reflection. Most people will talk about the "spirit of Ramadan" but their behavior makes it difficult for me to take them seriously. There are those who think differently but I did not meet them while writing this article. Of the 12 people I wanted to talk to about Ramadan, I expected some to say silly things such as "I fast so that I won’t burn in hell" and the remainder to provide the pearls that I would string into the argument about the relevance of Ramadan today. Instead what I dealt with was deciding who was more hollow: The woman who fasted without conviction but participated actively in the Muslim Student Association at her university, or the woman who spewed verbal garbage about the significance of fasting which "These people just don’t understand" but balked at the idea of helping a family member acquire an education abroad.
How will "these people" understand anything when we ourselves seem to have a fundamentally flawed perspective on something as basic to us and Islam as the month of Ramadan? When one Muslim youth said to me, "I fast so I won’t burn in hell," a sense of resignation settled upon me. Why was this university-going youth not devoting more time to wondering why he deprived his system of food from sunrise to sunset? Why didn’t he wonder whether it could guide him to a more spiritual understanding of his surroundings? Why is it that we go through the motions of fasting — and only the motions?
And then we wonder why the West doesn’t understand Islam! Why blame non-Muslims for ignorance when we ourselves exhibit such blatant ignorance? Why is it that we do not wonder why our religion has set aside a month for fasting and reflection? A 30-day period during which we can take our bearings and look hard at the road ahead. Focus. Examine why we live as we do. Determine what the alternatives are. Solidify our thoughts into a coherent argument and present them in an appropriate forum. Intellectuals must make themselves heard. The Islamic scholars must have moderates among them who will drown out the voices of the hardliners — whom the West refers to as fundamentalists. Each individual must commit to the idea of collective responsibility by making an individual commitment. And then perhaps hope will return to our hearts and we can rediscover the meaning of Ramadan which we seem to have lost.
