At ABC Religion & Ethics; my bolding. Fasting, prayer and meditation, self-examination, and other ancient practices aren't just "things to do." They've been used (and passed down) for important reasons. These things have a purpose for people who wish to become more aware of their own spiritual natures and thus of their relationship with God; of their own actions and behaviors; and of the nature of the greater world in which they live. They are time-tested means to help develop peoples' spiritual (and communal) lives. As A.A. points out (about self-examination and confession) they have been "validated in every century, and [characterize] the lives of all spiritually centered and truly religious people."
A.A. says, too, about meditation and prayer, that "The actual experience of meditation and prayer across the centuries is, of course, immense. The world's libraries and places of worship are a treasure trove for all seekers."
It also points out that "Those of us who have come to make regular use of prayer would no more do without it than we would refuse air, food, or sunshine. And for the same reason. When we refuse air, light, or food, the body suffers. And when we turn away from meditation and prayer, we likewise deprive our minds, our emotions, and our intuitions of vitally needed support. As the body can fail its purpose for lack of nourishment, so can the soul. We all need the light of God's reality, the nourishment of His strength, and the atmosphere of His grace. To an amazing extent the facts of A.A. Life confirm this ageless truth."
Sometimes it's just necessary to point to the pragmatic, experiential aspect of religion: to why we do these things, not just to the how. And that religion is a set of practices that have a valid basis in reality - practices that have been used for millennia, developed by human beings for specific reasons, and "validated throughout every century."
The month of Ramadan has begun, Muslims have entering into one of the finest and most beautiful schools of life. The fasting month is a school of faith, spirituality, awareness, giving, solidarity, justice, dignity and unity. Nothing less. It is the month when introspection among Muslims should be deepest; the month of their greatest contribution to humanity.
The month of Ramadan is the world's most widespread fast and yet its teachings are minimised, neglected and even betrayed (through literal application of rules that overlooks their ultimate objective). Small wonder, then, that we should return to the subject and as the fasting month returns each year, we too must repeat, rehearse and deepen further our understanding of what Ramadan teaches us of this school of divine nearness, of humanity and dignity.
The fast is each individual's quest for the divine - it asks of each of us to look beyond self. Ramadan is, in its essence, a month of humanist spirituality. During the fasting days, we are called upon to abstain from eating, drinking and responding to our instincts, to help us turn inward, to our heart and the meaning of our lives. To fast means to experience sincerity, to observe our shortcomings, contradictions and failings - no longer to attempt to hide or to lie and instead to focus our efforts on the search for ourselves and for the meaning and priorities of our lives.
Beyond food, fasting requires us to examine ourselves, to recognise our limits humbly and to reform ourselves ambitiously. It is a month of renewal, of critically summing up our lives, our needs, our forgetfulness and our hopes. We must take time for ourselves, to look after ourselves, to meditate, to contemplate, simply to reflect and to love.
Seen in this light, the month of Ramadan is the best possible expression of anti-consumerism: to be and not to have, to free ourselves of the dependencies that our consumption-based societies not only stimulate but magnify. In calling upon us to master our instincts, the fast calls into question the modern notion of freedom. What does it mean to be free? How are we to find our way to a deeper freedom and move beyond what we crave? The true fast is at odds with appearances.
The tradition of fasting was prescribed, the Qur'an tells us, for all religious traditions before Islam. It is a practice we share with all spiritualities and religions and as such it bears the mark of the human family, the human fraternity. To fast is to participate in the history of these religions, a history that possesses a meaning that has its own demands upon us and that is shaped by destinies and by ultimate goals.
Islam places it in the meaning of tawhid, the recognised and acknowledged "Oneness of God" that opens onto human diversity by virtue of how it is experienced and lived. The same holds true among Muslims. The time frame and the rhythm of those who fast are similar; the cultures of fast ending, of meals and of the night are diverse. In other words, there is unity in meaning, diversity in practice. The month of Ramadan carries with it this fundamental teaching and reminds Muslims, whether Sunni or Shi'ite, irrespective of which school they follow, that they share the same religion and that they must learn to know - and to respect - one another.
This month is a month of dignity, for "Revelation" reminds us that a human being is a creature of nobility and dignity: "We have bestowed dignity of the children of Adam [all humankind]." Only for them, in full conscience, is fasting prescribed; only they are called upon to rise to its lofty goal.
Human beings must undertake the fast in a spirit of seeking nearness to the unique - in a spirit of equality and nobility among their fellows, women and men alike, and in solidarity with the downtrodden. The core of life thus rediscovered is this: to return to our hearts, to reform ourselves in the light of what is essential and to celebrate life in solidarity; to experience deprivation as desired; to reject poverty as imposed and degrading. Our task is one of self-mastery - we must lift ourselves up, sever our ties, become free and independent, above superficial needs, and concern ourselves with the true, down-to-earth needs of the poor and the needy.
The month of Ramadan is thus a place of exile from illusion and fashion and a pilgrimage deep into one's self, into meaning, into others. To be free of ourselves and at the same time to serve all those imprisoned by poverty, injustice or ignorance. Muslims spend thirty days in the company of this month of light. If only they could open even wider their eyes, their hearts and their being to receive the light and offer it in the form of the greatest gift of their spiritual tradition to their sisters and brothers.
Muslims are called to exercise self-control and to give, to meditate and to weep, to pray and to love. Truly to fast is to pray; to pray is to love.
A.A. says, too, about meditation and prayer, that "The actual experience of meditation and prayer across the centuries is, of course, immense. The world's libraries and places of worship are a treasure trove for all seekers."
It also points out that "Those of us who have come to make regular use of prayer would no more do without it than we would refuse air, food, or sunshine. And for the same reason. When we refuse air, light, or food, the body suffers. And when we turn away from meditation and prayer, we likewise deprive our minds, our emotions, and our intuitions of vitally needed support. As the body can fail its purpose for lack of nourishment, so can the soul. We all need the light of God's reality, the nourishment of His strength, and the atmosphere of His grace. To an amazing extent the facts of A.A. Life confirm this ageless truth."
Sometimes it's just necessary to point to the pragmatic, experiential aspect of religion: to why we do these things, not just to the how. And that religion is a set of practices that have a valid basis in reality - practices that have been used for millennia, developed by human beings for specific reasons, and "validated throughout every century."
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