What Ramadan taught me about the World today
Ramadan is the month-long festival where Muslims fast for spiritual gains, and fasting is one of the five pillars of Islam. I’m not trying to give a lecture here, as the title might suggest, but merely to convey my broad experience of journeying into Islam as a Chinese, and the challenges and adversity along the way which gave me lessons to understand the world we live in today.
Let’s just say, prior to starting a committed relationship with a Muslim girl, the thoughts of me becoming a Muslim was next to zero. And I had very little knowledge about the religion too. That was my starting point.
Even before Ramadan, there were lots of different expectations and advices impressed upon me in a bid to help me to learn Islam in “the right way”. But accepting those advice was very challenging for me.
The right way, as I would infer, often means starting to learn the faith on strong grounds, so that my relationship with God will not sway, regardless of what may happen between my girlfriend and me. In that regard, many friends whom I had spoken to from the Muslim community expressed disapproval that I would begin knowing or learning Islam simply because my girlfriend is Muslim.
The reason for their disapproval is because my way of learning is highly risky. That if the relationship did not work out, it would also prematurely end my affiliation with Islam. They argued that it was better to separate faith from relationship.
I think dealing with the fact that people, in good faith, likes to think they know what is best for you and disregard your opinion and ignore your needs were what made an already difficult journey even more laborious. They probably overlooked the fact that the religion is only meaningful from my perspective if I understood how it shaped the person that I am in a relationship with. This is akin to how devout followers could better understand the faith through the actions (or Sunnah) of Prophet Muhammad, who is a living embodiment of the faith.
Meaning is derived from the actions of people, and in my context, it’s my partner whom I can better relate with and access the knowledge about Islam. Why should that even be rejected as a starting point?
Without much knowledge or relationship with Islam, it seems premature to decide if I have already accepted that there can only be one god, whether there would be afterlife and Jinnah and whether I should already be praying five times a day.
I also questioned the premise of the ‘risk’ argument. Just because something is risky does not mean that it is wrong. It was an argument that I had to raise, to make my views heard and to give reasons as to why I might disagree with the prescription that there can only be one right way.
Let’s use the analogy of water. Water, as we know, is a finite resource. Nations can go to war because of water. There is the possibility and risk that water will run out in the future. Considering these risks, should we then stop drinking water from today, because future generations might run out of water to drink?
But water is a basic need.
Without water, we cannot survive. Because of that, we make compromises and we accept the actions of drinking today, knowing full well the action carries with it the risks, imperfections and consequences to future generations.
For those who might disagree with my view on how to start exploring the Islam faith, I hope to share that even if my approach is imperfect, it arose from a basic need too. There would not be motivation to learn about Islam if we must separate faith and relationship.
For Muslims who advised me and had more knowledge, I think it is a privilege to learn from them too. Knowledge is power. But helping can sometimes cause more harm than good, if we ignore the needs and fail to understand the choices made from the perspectives and circumstances of those whom we are trying to help.
I also came to accept the limits and flaws of my approach. Not that I would be contented or be complacent about it — I am constantly seeking my personal why and to find a better way to strengthen my faith. But the significance is that I learnt to accept that it is okay if I cannot find the answers to these complex problems immediately.
Furthermore, it is very hard to say that every single process that went into the development of the Islam faith is impeccable and unquestionably perfect. Even as we know the Islam of today advocates peace, the survival of today’s Islam amongst other competing brands of the Muslim religion in Mecca, and later in Medina, was secured through war. As an outsider, I would imagine that it would be theologically possible to argue why war as an instrument may be inconsistent with the teaching of peace. But without these supposed imperfect processes, there may not be the gift of knowledge that we would have today.
Since historically not every process is perfect, and it is likely to be the case in today’s world, then why not, as our wise men says, to live and let live (see video at 6: 45 min)?
The interesting debates about the faith and the “right way” gave a good overview of my engagement with Islam thus far. My gratitude goes towards having the opportunity to face these adversities, from which unique learning opportunities presented itself.
Trying out the fasting process brought my learning to another level. The first time I did it, I was on holiday in China.
There were a lot of fear and worries. My primary concern was how my body would function without food and water. Considering that I have taken 3 meals for my whole life, a radical departure from this routine is very scary. Reading up online on the type of food to take in for fasting did reduce my fear a little bit.
But I think the greater fear was this: what if my body failed me? Would the failure to fast a full day be acceptable to those who wants me to be a Muslim? Who would I disappoint? The weight of expectations, some of which are self-inflicted, heightened the fear of failure, which added to the difficulty of fasting.
And I deal with this alone, sometimes with my partner.
I did not have a strategic plan — I just tried out fasting the first time I did it. I think I lasted half a day before my body could not take it. I felt guilty for not being able to complete the task. And I stopped after 1 day.
I brought this experience and shared with my partner and friends. I soon learnt that it is okay to progressively condition my body towards a full-day session. There was safety in the knowledge, it was very comforting. There was also genuine happiness from my partner, that I had the courage to take my first step out.
It also opens a conversation about why Muslims fast. It’s about empathizing the poor and giving back to God.
What I am trying to say is, the downside of an adversity or challenge would be immediately apparent and would dominate the mind of an individual. But as I look back, there are also upsides to these challenges too.
Islam was a lot simpler than my initial misconceptions, that I should be named as a ‘Muhammad’ or that I had to give up my Chinese-ness because I have adopted a religious identity that is outside of Chinese norms. It is a social contract with God — you submit to God, follow the pillars in exchange for inner peace and happiness.
I think a few phases happened for me when I observed myself before and after Ramadan:
Firstly, there would be the playing out of all the fears and inaccurate narratives based on misinformation about Islam.
Next, there is also the process of familiarizing with why the fear and narratives may be untrue.
Then there would be the engagement with the Muslim community: it is almost inevitable. The moment I share with my friends that I have a Muslim girlfriend, the very natural follow-up questions would be whether I am going to convert, and if so, when and how. Socialization forms part of my understanding of the faith. Sometimes, it can be challenging when people asks many questions that I may not be ready to answer. It makes me vulnerable.
Another challenge was finding the right news source that portrayed Islam in a positive light, and in a way that is of interests to a non-Muslim audience. Most of the content about Islam revolves around either Islamophobia, inter-faith dialogues or anti-Islamophobia. These topics interest those whose faith or beliefs might have been challenged or engaged. But for an empty sponge like me, it does not hold the same level of interests after awhile.
These challenges were unique to my circumstances, and usually the onus lies on the individual to find solution to these challenges. Sometimes it can feel discouraging but I also learnt to trust that God will have a plan, and if I am destined to become a Muslim, a path and supportive environment would eventually emerge, even if it is not very apparent now.
The same can be said for social entrepreneurship, which is the career path that I am pursuing. It does not operate with the first principles to maximizing profits or seeing immediate monetary rewards for the business endeavor. It involves a lot of education and raising awareness to various stakeholders. Typical sales cycle is a lot longer than traditional businesses. The barrier to entry is extremely high and a short-term focus can lead to an entrepreneur feeling very lost.
Adopting the long-term view, and finding meaning in the process, helps one to move along clearly in an unchartered territory. This is true for both exploring the faith or social entrepreneurship. Finding meaning and purpose in my work is especially important for me, that I would forsake the comfort of a corporate job.
Ramadan this year took on a different meaning compared to when I first started. Somehow, the expectations were, after having 2 rounds of attempts, perhaps it was time to “upgrade” and start doing full-day fasting, and for an extended period. It was a challenge that I relished, and I started to look at the event as an opportunity to start my day early.
Some of the immediate challenges that came to mind, prior to the start of Ramadan, was how I may not be able to maintain my productivity, that I might be too lethargic to do anything and let life waste away. I had the fear especially when I know in some cultures, Ramadan is almost like a holiday and work hours are even shortened. As an entrepreneur, the fear of being unproductive and unoccupied is one of greatest barrier to overcome.
This year, when I first started out my first full-day fasting, it seems like I did not have that much fear compared to 2 years ago, and I was able to relax and take things as it comes. I realized that I inevitably practiced self-compassion. If I was feeling tired, knowing that my body is not in the most optimal condition without food and water for an extended period, I would give myself a break to relax before resuming work. There were days where fasting even improved my productivity as I could go a full day, working without having to interrupt for meals. That was when I felt my concerns have been answered, that things were not as bad as my imaginations painted them to be.
The other concern I had was about my ability to maintain my fitness and enjoy my Sunday soccer. I pride on maintaining my fitness and I really enjoyed my football. And this was only possible because I invested time to improve my fitness. I was worried how far would my fitness deteriorate, and if there was a way to maintain my fitness while I am fasting.
What happened was my fitness quickly deteriorated. I was still able to play decently in the first two weeks of fasting but in the third week my fitness really dropped a lot. I felt like I just gave up something that I built over a period of 6–8 months. It was like accelerated ageing. I was very upset about it and I could not find the moral strength to continue my fasting in the last week as I really wanted to get back my fitness. I was concerned how long it would take to get back to fitness. But at the same time, I also wondered how top footballers like Pogba and Benzema can fast and play football professionally. I learnt to be more appreciative of my health and fitness, which became more apparent after it was ‘taken away’.
The unexpected challenges were the ones that unsettled me the most. I realized the hardest part of fasting is the lack of sleep. To keep my fitness, sometimes I would exercise at night or wake up at 4am to do my intervals, so that I can be in time for my pre-dawn meal, which has to be consumed before 520 am. I was quite shocked to see that my first few rounds of intervals at 4am was at least 10 seconds slower than my usual timing and it did raise concern about the level of physical fitness that I may be forsaking.
Another unexpected challenge was feeling mentally drained and losing motivation to wake up early for the pre-dawn meal after 3 weeks of fasting. I felt like I reached a new level that I am not ready for. And that was when my Ramadan came to a premature end.
There are two ways to look at my latest Ramadan attempt. I would call it the principled view and the charitable view respectively.
The principled view would be that I had violated the pillars and have not fulfilled my duty to God. They would have correctly pointed out my weakness and that I was not consistent and submitting wholeheartedly as I should. But it is also likely to be a binary view where we look at things strictly in terms of rules and absolutes. Either Yes or No.
The charitable view considers the spectrum of options that the subject could have taken. They give more weight to the subject’s context before making a judgement whether the duty had been fulfilled to the best of the ability of the subject.
The key difference is the charitable view gives more consideration to the interests of the subject and exercises compassion before making a judgment.
The charitable view would have made Islam a welcoming religion to embrace and is more nurturing and supportive to the learning needs of a newcomer.
As I reflected deeper about what I have learnt from Ramadan, I do realize these two perspectives run deep in our world today, outside of the religion. It is equally relevant in the context of a family, how two adults should parent the child.
Parents seeking to maintain a culture or legacy and expect the child to take after these prescribed traditions would align with the principled view in the way they deal with the child. For example, if the child wants to play football professionally, but the parents already decided that for the sake of social status, the child needs to be highly educated and become a successful manager in a corporate career, it would take a rule-based approach and may crush the dreams of the child, especially in Singapore where football does not hold the same level of status as footballers in Europe. This child can grow up and become a manager but do not know why being a manager is important to him . The child would have lost the ability to make independent choices that is meaningful to himself, resigned to the fact that his life is dictated by the traditions and legacies that the parents have set for him.
The sad part for the child is that his self-interest would be consistently overlooked, and in a losing battle, he learnt not to have autonomy and freedom in this world. He would do things without knowing why he is doing it other than that it would please his parents.
The parents with the charitable view does not have the pressure of maintaining certain legacies or conform to a certain norm. They are more likely to be open-minded and compassionate to the spectrum of choices available to the child. They would look at intermediate or hybrid options too, such as allowing the child to play football professionally so long as they do not compromise on studies too. Or not even dictate who the child should become. These parents would think about their own self-interest too, but they would probably give equal or greater consideration to the interests of their child.
Ramadan made me examined my own values. What kind of parent do I want to become? I think in an increasingly complex world that I had to navigate, the charitable view made more sense to me. Just imagine if in the worst case, my child in future, who would be Muslim by birth but has gender orientation tending towards same-sex attraction, how should I react to this? To take the binary view or to look at the spectrum of choices? Or that pornography is forbidden (or haram) but is so easily accessible in today’s hyper-connected world. How should I approach that topic with my child? Take the principled view and avoid the elephant in the room? Or take the charitable view and explore the spectrum of choices available to deal with this issue?
What may be also true is some things may be more a matter of principles that cannot be compromised, without which the institution and fundamental values of Islam may be perverted. Yet, what I am speaking specifically about are complex, unprecedented challenges that would confound and challenge the principled values and ideology that we hear from past generations of narrative that we naturally hold to be true, without contestation. Taking the principled view, rather than the compassionate and charitable view, may not always be the best decision-making framework.
I think this discussion and exploration between the principled and charitable view would surface more questions than answers, if we explore different contexts, such as whether Muslim women should be allowed to wear the Hijab in public service or whether hand shakes are permissible.
Back to the child issue, my basic principle is to think of the interest of the child first. Although Parents have a moral obligation to correctly guide the child, based on prescribed traditions and culture and the guidance of God, doing so at the expense of the child’s happiness and well-being may not be prudent. The child may grow up thinking why he is even born to suffer, and may not be a useful member of society. Between the principled and charitable view, I think a balanced approach would safeguard a child’s interest and well-being, although I would have a preference to take the charitable and compassionate view with regards to complex, unprecedented matters. After some time, it would then be the child’s moral responsibility to develop their own character and belief systems about the world.
Associate Professor Jonathan Brown gave a public lecture at MUIS about the compassionate life of Prophet Muhammad and how we can learn from his living embodiment of the faith. He too spoke about being principled but skilfully knowing how to compromise, in good faith.
In closing, Ramadan taught me a lot about life and about the world today. It pushes me to think about the purpose of religion beyond rituals and narratives. I think it has the guiding function of shaping an individual to be a better version of themselves, which can then be beneficial to society at large. Someone with better moral values can be trusted to manage an institution well and solve bigger problems in future and be more useful to society.
That becomes the new meaning that continues to guide me through this journey: through Islam, the pursuit of personal development and growth. Some other people may seek growth in secular manners, such as through photography or their career. But I think religion can play a role too. Because it deals with complex questions and it allows a space to question, and to think through different ways of doing things. Which is where I think it is unique, and challenges the misconception that religiosity necessarily stifiles critical thinking. Islam is, after all, a religion of science and reason.