Coffee, that first cup in the morning, along with a lingering breakfast
and morning dose of “media”–that’s the hardest thing for me give up during the month-long
fast of Ramadan.
My attachment is not primarily to the caffeine content, but rather to the
place of that first cup of coffee in my morning ritual, the first of many routines that “plug” me into the habitual
current of “normal life.”
One of the shocking insights gleaned from Ramadan–when we
set “normal life” aside–is the awareness of our abnormal habit of eating for every reason other than
hunger: we may eat from habit or self-indulgence, yet rarely from need.
Even more shocking is the realization of how often we turn to food to stimulate
our bodies and brains, yet how seldom we actually nurture these organs into a state of physical discipline or intellectual
and moral awareness. Rather, we “turn on” the flow of usable energy and channel it into our daily tasks. Through
elaborate daily routines of eating and drinking, we “jump start” our over-stressed bodies and minds, while we
lull our mental awareness and moral consciousness into “automatic pilot,” a state that is also produced through
the use–or rather misuse–of food.
In Islam, the idea of “misuse” is closely linked to “oppression”:
to commit oppression–or “zulm”–means to exploit something or someone for a use other
than for which it was intended, to disregard–and disrespect–its true essence and proper limits.
Our daily misuse of food is only one of many ways we have grown accustomed
to oppressing ourselves. When we fail to eat as has been intended, we abuse ourselves, our food, and our fellow human beings.
We replace balance with over-consumption. We disrespect food not only in the amount that we eat, but also in the way that
we eat and in the things we choose to eat. We become slack in our obligation to share our food–and other resources–with
those in need. We lose our gratitude toward the One who has provided for us. And finally, we replace our trust in God–the
ultimate Sustainer–with a relentless pursuit of material gain and the “financial security” necessary
to support our lifelong habits of over-consumption.
Fasting provides the means to “dismantle” the daily routines
of our normal–yet absolutely abnormal–consumer lifestyle, and bring us back into a state of mental
awareness. Fasting challenges us to recognize and–with God’s help–transform our automatic-pilot
mentality into a state of moral discernment, allowing us to distinguish real needs from the many wants and habitual self-indulgences
that merely pose as needs.
Fasting reminds us to respect food, to eat it with proper manners, to limit
its consumption to what we actually require, to thank God for providing it, and to be willing to give to those less fortunate,
whose hunger is not alleviated when we break our fast.
The wisdom of fasting opens our eyes to a much larger reality and allows
us to give more fully of ourselves in conscious acts of goodness and generosity, acts that require true discernment and awareness.
As the spiritual goal of Ramadan is to acquire “Taqwa”–meaning
not only piety, but also “mindfulness” of our constant connection to God–Ramadan encourages us to
wake up from the mindlessness of our habitual routines, and perform every action with clear awareness, gratitude and trust
in God. Hence even the simple act of eating food becomes an act of worship.
Barbara (Masumah) Helms
(Courtesy of the Standard-Freeholder, published October 7, 2006)
