Ramadan's Reminders

By Will Quinn

Recently, I was invited to visit a local mosque by the imam, Imam Hammad. The invitation came as part of the 29 for 29 Ramadan Initiative, a project bringing twenty-nine veterans to the homes of American Muslim families for the twenty-nine nights of Ramadan. Its aim is to help non-Muslim Americans get a glimpse into one of the holiest of holidays of some of their neighbors, and to build bridges between communities in the process. I accepted Imam Hammad’s invitation gladly.

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My day began at daybreak with a total fast—no food or liquids—and ended after sundown with a flurry of prayers, conversation, and food. Up at 4:30 in the morning and asleep at half past midnight, I was exhausted. It made me realize what the imam went through for twenty-nine days and how punishing that would be. Yet Imam Hammad seemed unphased. I wish I had his stamina.

Of course, no one does this for kicks. There are military training programs that embrace a similar work-rest cycle with lighter than normal rations and little time for sleep. The goal of these programs is to get soldiers to perform complicated tasks under intense fatigue—forcing them to make difficult decisions and motivate others when their bodies are telling them that nothing is more important than a warm meal and a nap. The idea is that it prepares soldiers for the exhaustion that accompanies combat, and it forces them to focus all their energy on the task at hand and the welfare of their fellow soldiers.

But, as I learned from Imam Hammad, inside the mosque, an even more important lesson was imparted: every single decision you make in this state—every interaction you have with another person, every choice about what to eat, what to say, where to focus your attention—all of it matters to God. God created you, and God wants to see that you do not squander the gift of your creation. Fasting and prayer help one concentrate on God’s presence in their life and to become aware of blessings already received and those most needed by one who approaches God with humility.

I am not Muslim. And though there are people of the Muslim faith whom I count as friends, I had a very narrow frame of exposure to Islamic theology. You see, I spent a year in Iraq interrogating senior members of al Qaeda, and I knew their particular interpretation of Islam was extreme. I certainly did not think they represented all of Islam, but for all I knew, their description of the differences between their theology and that of most other Muslims was correct: they took all the teachings seriously, and others took those they liked and ignored those they did not.

My visit to Imam Hammad’s mosque disabused me of that notion. There are very devout Muslims who take all Islam’s teachings seriously, and those teachings lead them to desire peace. Do they want the rest of us to convert? Of course they do! Anything less from a believer would demonstrate a troubling lack of concern for the souls of others—after all, I’m Catholic, and I hope others convert to Catholicism. But those I met at the mosque want to win our hearts through prayer and example, not through intimidation and violence.

I had many wonderful conversations with Imam Hammad and the other men at the mosque. Their hospitality was almost overwhelming. But what moved me most was a short reflection intended to focus the attendees’ minds as they broke their fast that evening. Imam Hammad reminded them that when groups of Muslims conducted terrorist attacks, the backlash was a growing fear of Islam the United States and other Western countries. He noted that Muslims had even turned against one another in that moment of crisis, that they felt helpless and under siege. Right now, with so much division in the United States, this seems like a crisis again. So what to do? His message was simple: Be generous to others, be grateful to God for what you have, and ask God for blessings.

It was intended for a Muslim audience during Ramadan, but it sounded familiar. In addition to its call to faith, it was a reminder to serve others with humility, which just happens to be why many of us joined the United States military. It was a reminder that we are at our best when we treat our neighbors as friends and remember that we are all Americans.

Will Quinn is a U.S. Army veteran who served in Iraq as an interrogator. He is a graduate of the University of Michigan Law school and currently practices law in Washington, DC.