I have come to despise Ramadan in Riyadh. True, despise
is a harsh emotion, but you may come to join me once you meander through the recesses
of my mind…
It all started when we first arrived to the kingdom. We
experienced our first Ramadan in a Muslim land – and it was exhilarating.
Ramadan was no more a muffled observance by a religious minority – it was a proud
experience causing greater society to unashamedly shout out its undying love
for the One. Ramadan ceased to be a
state of aberration, with Muslims scuttling to their spiritual outposts in the
scant Masjids dotting the American landscape, desperately seeking the company
of fellow fasting Muslims. In Riyadh, the streets and shops were abuzz with a
celebratory mood most deserving of Ramadan and every corner found a masjid
alive with daily iftars and nightly prayers.
It was simply intoxicating.
And as with all intoxicants, the high was short-lived,
superficial, and extremely ungratifying.
After almost ten Ramadans in Saudi Arabia, I’m convinced
there is no real understanding of and even less appreciation for this
sacred month. Ramadan has become a priceless painting collecting dust in the garage
of a cultural boor.
From the Mercy of the One who has no limit to His Mercy,
we are presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. every. single. year.
And this gift is squandered by the vast majority as they simply reshuffle their
schedules and adjust their bodies to adapt to the various Ramadan
‘inconveniences’.
Ramadan is supposed to be the month of starving the nafs
and feeding the heart. Instead, they pamper their bodies by sleeping all day and
indulge their nafs by waking all night.
All year long we have unjustly imprisoned our hearts.
We’ve clothed them in the orange jumpsuits of dunya, blinded them with
the black hoods of our passions, surrounded them with the walls of our desires,
callously scoffed at their requests for (spiritual) nourishment, and severed
all ties with their kith and kin (the people of dhikr).
Yet, the Most Loving (swt) gives us a chance to undo all
this damage beset upon our hearts. He has presented before us a succulent
buffet of spiritual subsistence and invited our hearts to plunge into it. This,
the month of the heart, has been carefully designed by our Lord to help us
reenergize our enervated souls while wreaking chaos on our nafs. Allah (swt)
has installed mechanisms to debilitate the voracious appetite of the nafs – no
food, no drink, no spousal relations. Knowing
our nature and its addiction to these fuels of the nafs, Allah has instated a
month-long embargo as an aid to our developing an alternative heart-based energy;
an energy that is infinitely cleaner and infinitely enduring.
And what do my bungling hosts do with this gem? Instead
of restraining the nafs, they give it carte blanche throughout the night. Shops
are readily available to fancy any and every craving. Restaurants are filled
with those filling the vessels of their insatiable appetites. Social gatherings
are rescheduled to the wee hours of the night. Coffee shops are filled with
patrons chatting away the last thirds of the night.
Starve the nafs?
Nay, this month has become a celebration of the nafs!
It has been transformed into a toothless vestige that is
now celebrated like other vile, commercial holidays.
Oh, how urgently our hearts are in need of the REAL Ramadan!
We have failed to realize the nature of our hearts. Like
our bodies that we are so quick to titillate with every possible sensation, our
hearts too need nourishment. They hunger for a provision that has Divine
ingredients. They long to be entertained by passions and joys furnished by
their Creator.
Yet, the one time of the year in which the most Merciful
has laid out the red carpet, we spurn His favors, choosing instead to find
alternative ways to suckle our ever-dependent nafs.
Sad to say, but Ramadan in Riyadh is catered for feeding
the nafs, not the heart. What
nourishment does one offer the heart with the endless Iftar buffets lavishly
laid out at countless restaurants? What
benefit do the accommodating shopping hours provide to the heart? What value is
it to the heart spending all night laughing and playing in an istiraha*? What
else but the nafs is fed from the special TV dramas and comedies featured in
Ramadan?
Alas, in such an environment, replete with devices
designed to anchor down our heaven-aspiring hearts, should not one despise it?
Indifference is worse, no? I’ve tried for the past few years to no avail. Maybe
you’ll suggest empathy; after all we should feel sorry for the misguided. But
would you dare suggest empathy towards an abusive husband? I declare abusing
the heart is worse.
Yes, scorn is most fitting. Not for the people, but for the society. And
I fear that my scorn would not be limited to Riyadh if I had but the chance to
experience Ramadan in other Muslim lands.
*An Istiraha (trans. 'place of rest’) is a small enclosed
park-like facility, usually rented out for an entire day (or night) by a few
families. It usually includes separate sitting areas for men and women, an open
grass area, a small pool, and a kitchen. Public parks are crowded, unclean, and
not private, so an istiraha is the destination of choice for many families.
