       |
Ramadan: "I Fast So That God Might Hear My Prayer"
by "Sharon Lewis," working in Asia
5 November 2009
We battle our way along the footpath ... People crowd around numerous food stalls selling iftar delicacies. Little children, some of them carrying younger brothers and sisters, follow us asking for money and food. The two-lane (but, in reality, four-lane—or more) road beside us is crammed with vehicles and their impatient drivers. Everyone wants to be first, and is using their horn to full capacity to make their presence known. Finally, we reach the grocery store. The shop is crowded, as people deliberate over which will be the best purchases. The first aisle has huge bottles of oil filling half of the walking space—apples have jumped in price by 50 percent, as have eggplants and dates. The month of fasting, Ramadan, is here with us again, and we all become so aware of the religion we are surrounded by. From the first sighting of one moon to the first sighting of the next, people are called to eat and drink nothing from sunrise to sunset. Women are heard clattering around in their kitchens at three in the morning, preparing a meal for their family to eat before the call to prayer and the rising of the sun. The fast is broken at sunset with a meal called iftar. People spend a lot of time buying and preparing special, rich delicacies for this event each day, if they can afford it! During Ramadan people’s religious fervor is intensified. The religious acts done count more towards salvation. It is all a complicated mix of sacrifice and indulgence. Fasting during the day; feasting at night. Frenzied shopping for new clothes. Giving of alms to the beggars. Traffic jams, hot tempers, eager anticipation, excitement, dread… what if God does not accept what I am able to do? Millions of people trying to earn their salvation. For most, there is little hope, as they know they can’t meet the requirements. They don’t know that it is a free gift. Rachel, a young friend of mine, religiously keeps the fast during Ramadan, and often during the year she fasts as well. One day she timidly ventured to ask me, “Auntie, do you keep the fast?” “I do fast sometimes,” I respond. “Why do you fast?” “I fast so that God might hear my prayer, and then he might look favorably upon me and answer me and I might go to heaven.” My heart ached with the struggle and the uncertainty. If only she could understand that she does not have to earn her salvation. I tried to explain to her that I know I am saved, I know that I will go to heaven. I don’t fast because it is a rule I have to keep. I fast out of a desire to draw closer to a loving, compassionate God. This is the fundamental driving difference. Is God a distant law giver or a loving, compassionate Father? During Ramadan millions of people here and around the world desperately strive to please a distant god. For most, especially the poor, it is impossible to follow all of the rules. What hope do they have? Five times a day, from the three mosques surrounding our flat, the call to prayer rings out. It is a constant reminder of the desperate plight of these people, our neighbors and our friends. *Note:This article was originally published in Serving In Mission Together, issue 125. 
 
|
|||||||||
|
Donate
 Resources
  |
vars & config
logs & msgs
3
6674.6 KB
3044 ms
