As we enter the second week of Ramadan, hundreds of millions of Muslims around the world continue to fast as a prescribed spiritual practice in the Islamic faith tradition. Last year, as a part of an ongoing journey within the interfaith movement and my own spiritual formation, I chose to participate in this month long act of spiritual observance. This year I chose to follow the practice again because of the powerful affect it had on me. Only this year, something feels different about the experience. Something feels off, unnatural, and confusing. So, on Sunday night, I decided to stop my observance of Ramadan. But, why? What changed?
By highlighting the benefits of my experience with Ramadan from last year and the subsequent changes it brought about it my life throughout the last year, I may begin to arrive at an answer. Ramadan profoundly changed my life last year. It has been by far the most powerful spiritual month of my life. It taught me about the relationship between food and drink and spirituality. It gave me the tools to eat more ethically and compassionately. This month also gave me a greater reverence for the mystery and beauty of the divine, the sacred source of all life.
I recall posting status updates on my Facebook profile once a day with how I was feeling physically, emotionally, but most often, spiritually. I went to several iftars with friends and by myself, breaking my fast with strangers and loved ones in an act of spiritual exaltation. However, most memorable were my nights alone at home, when I silently ate a date and drank some water as the sun finally slid out of sight beyond the horizon. These memories are very cherished, but it was not until the end of Ramadan that I began to truly appreciate how powerful an experience this had been for me.
I began to advocate about eating more consciously, as I wrote an article about my non-Muslim experience with Ramadan, which got republished in DePaul University’s MSA student newsletter. I talked with friends and family members, discussing how spirituality and food are inextricable and most be brought together in greater communion. I made a decision to become vegan for a New Year’s resolution; the past seven months have been so inspiring and spiritually gratifying. I am more in tune with my body and I am more in tune with my soul and the Spirit of Life today than I have ever been.
On July 31st, I preached a sermon on ethical eating as a spiritual practice at a Unitarian Universalist church in Mequon, WI. The response was very welcoming and I could tell many people wanted to engage more spiritually with the food and drink they consumed on a regular basis. When I got home that night I realized that I had forgotten that Ramadan started the next morning. I decided I wanted to participate again this year. And so I did.
However, something felt uncomfortable for me this time. I don’t think it was that I couldn’t handle the physical strain of fasting. I think it had to do with the realization that my faith tradition has no spiritual practice that is as defined as this example from Islam. Unitarian Universalism is a tradition of religious freedom, as it advocates for every person to partake on a free and responsible search for truth and meaning in the world. As a non-doctrinal/dogmatic/creedal tradition, our spiritual practice could be summarized as the complete opposite of Islam in regards to prescription. Some UUs fast, some make pilgrimages, many give to charities, but we all do it in different ways. This assessment I began to reflect upon gave me a sense of longing for greater prescription for spiritual practice in my faith tradition. I wrote in my sermon on eating as a spiritual practice:
“I wonder whether there are potential thorns that can grow from this spiritual rose of freedom, if we do not address certain areas where perhaps we could walk more in unison along our spiritual paths. I suggest this not as a hope to transform our faith tradition into something that it is not. I do not seek dogma or creed or required practice to become a component of Unitarian Universalism. All I wish is for us to simply consider how spiritual practice can become at times a more communal, public expression of the love we share so readily in this space on Sunday mornings.”
I appreciate Islam as a beautiful religious tradition that has shaped so much of the world that we live in today. But, I am not a Muslim; I am a Unitarian Universalism. I want to see how Unitarian Universalist can approach this tightrope walk of religious practice and religious freedom in the 21st century. I think it is not only possible, but also quite necessary for us to do as a religious people. We define our movement as a progressive one. My hope is that we can progress in a way that allows us to maintain a sense of reverence, community, and engagement with the world.
Every year at DePaul, the MSA holds a fast-a-thon, in order to raise awareness about the themes of Ramadan. I wrote an article after the fast-a-thon this year about how building community is such an integral part of this spiritual practice. I just reread it and was amazed to see how relevant the words are that I used to end the article:
“Next year, when Ramadan comes again, when the circle comes around once more… it will be a new invitation to go deeper in my own spiritual relationship with the divine, recalling always the things I am thankful for and the people in this world waiting to receive the justice they so greatly deserve.”
This year, while I am no longer participating in Ramadan, my spiritual practice will be to search for some methodology for myself and perhaps other Unitarian Universalists who may long for a more consistent and structured practice with engaging with the spirit of life and love. Ramadan is about reawakening again to the beauty of life and to the greatest mysteries of the universe. I have never been more awake.