All around us, in apartments and houses across Canada (and the world), a handful of lights twinkle softly in the darkness just before the first light of dawn.
First a lone bastion of light from a solitary window beckons in the middle of the night.
Then slowly the rest of the windows light up and these homes become tiny oasis of bustle and life in a desert of slumbering bodies and silent streets. The kitchens awake and are the throbbing centers of it all for a short moment.
Then the sun peeks over the horizon and it’s all over. The kitchen returns to silence, waiting for the sun to set and the bustle to start again.
What is this all about? What’s happening in the middle of the night in the homes of over a million Canadians?
It’s Ramadan!
The month of fasting, the month of blessings, the month of the Quran. The 9th month in the Islamic lunar calendar.
The most holy month for the Muslim community is from mid-April to mid-May this year.
It is also the second Ramadan during the covid-19 pandemic, the second with many under stay-at-home orders.
What usually is marked by collective worship has now become an event of solitary moments. Gone are the gatherings each afternoon to break the fast amongst friends and family. Gone are the nightly assemblies of hundreds of worshippers at the mosque, standing in rows, shoulder-to-shoulder praying.
It is hard without a doubt. It is difficult to go through the month with so many traditions temporarily stalled. But if anything, a second pandemic Ramadan has taught us to recognize and count our blessings.
The blessings of health, while so many family members fight the virus alone in hospitals here and abroad.
We may not be able to pray alongside hundreds of others, but those lone windows shining in the middle of the night are people praying from the deepest parts of their hearts.
We cannot hear the rousing prayers of the Imam or the emotional echoes of ameen from the congregation. But for the first time, we are the ones making the supplications and we can include the desires of our innermost self.
There may be no gatherings to break the fast, but it gives us a chance to reach out to neighbours and friends with samosas and cookies made with our own essence of love.
This Ramadan has taught us to appreciate and innovate.
The essence of the month is not confined to traditions and customs. That spirit of worship and service and love exists within us.
We can still worship and serve humanity and spread the love, even from socially-distanced boundaries.
Our prayers to Allah will still reach Him, whether we’re in the mosque amongst hundreds or at home on our solitary prayer mat.
We will still feel the rewards of service whether we support the women’s shelter online or attend the annual fundraiser.
Our loved ones will experience our love whether we hug them or drop off a care package with some of the sweetest dates.
We’ve had to master zoom and learn the ins-and-outs of a virtual world. But the beauty of Ramadan is that the spirit is always the same, from the times of mud huts when Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him- was alive to our present time when quarantine and social distancing are the norm.
May this Ramadan be filled with blessings For you and yours.
Maryam Baksh is a graduate from University of British Columbia. She is a member of the Muslim community in Vancouver and a busy young mother.
You can read more articles on our interfaith blog. Spiritually Speaking, HERE
* This article was published in the print edition of the Times Colonist on Saturday, April 24th 2021
Photo of mosque by Ali Arif Soydaş on Unsplash
