Return to Sermon Index
 

The Fourth Pillar of Islam

Reverend Sharon Dittmar
December 2, 2001

Those of us who consider ourselves well-read, or religiously educated, might find her question appalling, or significantly American.  Our information base in America can be myopic.  How could my neighbor not know about Ramadan, especially this year?

I am no longer surprised by my neighbors reaction, because I have recently learned how difficult it is to know anything of substance about Islam or Ramadan.  This silence is a two way street.  On the one hand, America remains largely unconcerned about non-Western countries and religions.  As Peter Gomes, Plummer Professor of Christian Morals at Harvard recently said:

Ours is a country that prides itself on the avoidance of complexity; and does not know how to deal with genuine conflict.  And one of the reasons is that foreign news, so-called, is not frequently found on the front pages of major papers . . . I asked the president of the Boston Globe once why is it that the front page of the Globe always leads off with a story from Charlestown or Chelsea . . . And he very pragmatically said "Foreign news doesn't sell newspapers; at least in Boston [and definitely not in Cincinnati].  People here are not interested in foreign news because they equate foreign news with bad news.[1]

I chose this sermon topic weeks before Ramadan began, and kept thinking that there would be dozens of insightful articles on Ramadan and Islam as November approached.  I'm still waiting for a seminal 2001 New York Times article on Ramadan, and stunned that I haven't yet seen one there, or anywhere else.  All I can conclude is that we don't think Ramadan or Islam are much of a story because we, as Americans, do not know the story, or as Gomes says we "pride ourselves on the avoidance of complexity."  The stories that I have heard or read are just so repetitive, simplistic, and mundane. [ELAB]  The end result is that we don't know the basics of Islam.  And I'm including myself here (stamp story).

At the same time, I think that the traditional Muslim American population has been more comfortable this way, not being known.  There are one billion Muslims in the world today (most living in Asia or Africa), yet, only 5 to 8 million Muslims live in the United States.[2]  There is no significant Muslim lobby in Washington D. C. that I know of, no obvious Islamic American spokesperson.  There are few mosques. 

Many American Muslims are first generation immigrants.  And like other first generation immigrants before them, they tend to live in large segregated communities (segregated by choice), and to retain the languages and traditions of their countries of origin while gradually, slowly becoming Americanized. 

Although American Muslims are generally middle class and more affluent and educated than their European Muslim counterparts,[3] in recent history it has been uncomfortable or just plain unsafe to be Muslim because of conflicts like the Iran Hostage Crisis and Gulf War.  In addition, conservative interpretations of Islam don't mesh well with American pluralism, modernity, gender roles, and our tradition of anti-authoritarian religious dissent.  Secular, liberal, or Westernized Muslims have an easier time with this transition than their counterparts from Islamic countries.

I spoke to our friend, Fahriye Destani, from Kosovo about transition.  She strongly identifies as a Muslim, and is extremely relieved that in America, as in Kosovo, she can wear shorts and short sleeved shirts.  She has never worn cover and would be miserable is she had to.  Yet, I can only imagine the confusion of a conservative Egyptian or Saudi woman immigrating America.  How would she feel if she didn't wear head cover?  What would her American neighbors say if she did?  Overall, liberal, westernized Muslims have an easier time melding into America.  Conservative Muslims have an easier time remaining separate.  Since September 11 we wonder which group, if any, speaks for Islam.

In 610 C. E. a man named Muhammad went to Mount Hira in his native town of Mecca to engage in prayer and retreat, a practice common among the residents of Mecca.  At the time Muhammad was 40 years old.  He was married and had four surviving children, all daughters.  His wife, Khadija, had been a wealthy merchant's widow when the two met fifteen years earlier.  She hired Muhammad to be a caravan leader for her goods, and soon after the two were married.  Tradition has it that Khadija was fifteen years older than Muhammad.  From sources it is clear that the two were devoted to one another.  Khadija was Muhammad's first convert to Islam.

According to the Qur'an, while engaged in retreat on Mount Hira, Muhammad received a revelation from the angel Gabriel.  Gabriel took Muhammad on a fantastic journey to the Temple of Jerusalem and the seventh heaven where he met Allah face to face (the only Muslim to do so) and received the revelation of Islam.  Much like the Bible, there are different references about and inferences to Muhammad's night flight.  In some he meets Allah first, in others the angel Gabriel.  In some he travels to Jerusalem, in others into the seventh heaven of Paradise.  In some commentaries just his spirit goes, in others his whole body.[4]  It is unclear which parts of the Qur'an were revealed to the Prophet Muhammad when, much like the sayings of the Jesus in the New Testament.

The Prophet Muhammad first shared his revelation with his family.  As he gradually shared his faith within the community of Mecca, trouble arose.  At the time, Meccan religion was polytheistic.  Islamic monotheism was controversial and over time the Muslims of Mecca were persecuted.  In 622 C. E. the Prophet Muhammad and his followers fled to nearby Medina, where they lived in close proximity to rival Jewish tribes.

There is strong evidence that connects the formation of Ramadan to the Jewish High Holy Days.[5]  The High Holy Days do not involve fasting, but they do involve reflection, atonement, forgiveness, and reconciling a community of believers to one another and God.  These same sentiments are still part of Ramadan today.  As a modern day Muslim, Dr. Molook Roghanizad explains "Ramadan fasting offers an opportunity for . . . the cleansing of the self - through its disciplinary regimen."[6]

Sometime during the last ten days of Ramadan, the Night of Power is relived.  The Night of Power is the night of Allah's revelation to the Prophet, the night ignorance ended and peace and harmony arrived.  Today it is believed to be a night when the aspirations and desires of this world more easily ascend to Allah via the angels and Spirit.  The Qur'an says of this night

And what will explain to thee what the Night of Power is?  The Night of Power is better than a thousand months.  Therein come down the angels and the Spirit by Allah's permission, on every errand:  Peace! . . . This until the rise of morn!  (Surah 97)

Devout believers maintain that if they stay awake and pray through the Night of Power, their prayers will be answered and all sins forgiven.  Egyptian writer Seyyed Qutb explains

We, the believers of Islam, are commanded not to forget or neglect this episode,  The Messenger, peace be on him, has provided us with an easy and enjoyable way for the commemoration of this night…He has urged us to spend this night of each year in devotions . . . He said, "Seek the Night of Power in the last ten nights of Ramadan."  And, "He who spends the Night of Power in worship, one's motive being faith and devotion, will have all one's previous sins forgiven.[7]

I asked Fahriye if she observes Ramadan.  She told me that as an adult she has not chosen to observe Ramadan, but that she did when she was young, and that her mother still does.  She told me that in Kosovo only the old people go to the mosque, not the young, who tend to be less observant.  She remembers Ramadan as being very hard, no food or drink from dawn to dusk.  She remembers getting up at 5 AM, eating and drinking, going back to sleep, waking, and being hungry and thirsty until 5 or 6 PM that evening.  She said "I don't like to remember."  Which might not be the traditionalist answer, but certainly it is a traditional feeling, even with devotion, peace, and closeness to God. 

Twelve hours is a long time to go without food and water.  The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam tells of pots eagerly searching for the crescent moon that signifies the end of Ramadan.  One African tribe knows Ramadan as the "thirst month."[8]  I can only imagine the difficulty of having nothing to drink for twelve hours in Africa.

The Qur'an exempts the ill, elderly, pregnant, very young, and those on long journeys from observing Ramadan.  Dutro Blocksom, who just returned from Egypt, told me that one of their guides was a Muslim who observed Ramadan during their tour.  As the Qur'an permits, he broke his fast on days they traveled, but as many Muslims do, he chooses to make up the broken fast days at a later time, as well as do a good deed such as giving money or food to the poor.  Ramadan is a time of personal sacrifice that brings followers closer to their faith, Allah, humanity, and ultimate harmony.

The fall of 2001 is a strange, strange time for Ramadan, ultimate harmony mixed with September 11th and the on-going conflict in Afghanistan.  Prior to the beginning of Ramadan this year many of us were uneasy about Americans fighting in Afghanistan during a month of retreat.  We heard about protests, and potential mass uprisings in neighboring countries.  The President of Pakistan asked America to consider curtailing bombing during the month.  But then in the days just before Ramadan began, the Taliban lost significant territory to the Northern Alliance, including the capital of Kabul.  Ramadan began, the Northern Alliance continues to roll through Afghanistan, and there is barely a poof of discord anywhere. 

I keep watching the news.  Have I missed something?  Are protests being under-reported in the American media?  Then there are the stories, other stories, residents of Kabul celebrating in the streets and throwing flowers at Northern Alliance troops, Afghan women stoning the dead bodies of Taliban troops, targeting those from other Muslim countries, those who supported the Taliban and brought more war to Afghanistan. 

If our news reports are true, Afghans are not angry at America for bombing during Ramadan (not that they trust us or want our continued military presence), they are angry with the Taliban, and especially the foreign Muslim soldiers in their land.  What have their responses told us about being Muslim in the world today?  That there is no Muslim hegemony.  Oppression by a person of the same faith is still oppression.

Islam has had a particularly difficult time in the Middle East since the end of colonialism and then socialism.  In the absence or confusion of government, many in the Middle East turned back to the stability of a shared religion, Islam.  But not just any form of Islam, a more conservative form of Islam.  This conservative form has become our shared world view of Islam.  But does it speak to and for all one billion Muslims?

In a recent panel at Harvard Divinity School, Ali Asani, Professor of the Practice of Indo-Muslim Languages and Culture, and also a Muslim, noted

 [Al Qeada] is, in fact, a network that has different manifestations in different Muslim countries, and groups like this have, in a sense, been terrorizing the Muslim world for many decades.  They have been stifling pluralism within Islam.  People have been afraid to speak out against groups like this because they have been threatened . . . Several Muslims have said to me, "Well, one thing that we hope will be a positive outcome of this tragedy would be that once and for all we get rid of this kind of individual who claims hegemony over discourse in Muslim countries about religious matters, and tries to stifle any dissent." . . . Many of these groups have monolithic interpretations of Islam, and they look at even fellow Muslims as targets.  So my other great concern is that we use this opportunity to, in fact, reclaim pluralism and freedom of discourse within the Islamic world.  And I'm concerned that if this gets framed entirely within this Christian-Muslim crusade framework, it is really not going to solve anything.  The problem remains.[9]

Fahriye fully identifies as a Muslim and cannot conceive of wearing cover.  She does not celebrate Ramadan.  Is Fahriye a Muslim?  To the more conservative, no, to me, yes, because that is who she has told me she is.  The problem remains.

This reminds me a lot of the question "Who is a Jew?", a huge question in Israel today.  Are you Jewish if you are Reform Jewish?  Is your marriage valid if you were married by a Reform rabbi?  Are you Jewish if your father is Jewish but your mother is not?  There are many orthodox and ultra orthodox Jews who would answer "no" to all of these questions.

As Asani states, this is an issue of pluralism, diversity.  Does Allah care if you wear cover?  Is God concerned which rabbi marries you?  Coming from a non-creedal, free faith tradition, these are frustrating questions for me.  I don't believe in a God who cares about these distinctions, and I have a difficult time understanding people who do.  However, I affirm their right to these beliefs up until they oppress others.  I am hopelessly American in my interpretation of religion and its role in society and politics.  Religion is an important influence, but must remain separate.

Religion can not sustain the weight of politics and political ambition.  Ramadan demonstrates this (so does George W. Bush's poorly timed and insensitive language about crusades).  How can the values of Ramadan, sacrifice and connection with humanity, support nationalistic or political values that equate mass destruction with goodness and the end of oppression?  They can't.  This was the backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials, and they were also a disaster for their respective religions and communities.  Mixing religion with politics is the fast way to discredit both.

Ramadan is a wonderful celebration, a time of contemplation, sacrifice, connection, harmony, and forgiveness.  These are good things, great things, human needs that are nurtured by one of the world's great religions.  The challenge for all of us, Muslims and non-Muslims alike will be to understand, explain, and support this greatness in a climate of ignorance, fear, conflict, hatred, and confusion.  Like the Night of Power, the gift of understanding would be better than a thousand months.  May we each find the will and the time to make it so.  "Peace! . . . This until the rise of morn!"

Return to Sermon Index