Sabr during ramadan
The month of Ramadan is known amongst Muslims as a space to grow closer to ourselves, and through that, closer to our spiritual practice. While most people know about how we fast from sunrise to sunset, abstaining from the temptations and luxuries of life is an extension of the values of this holy month.
Every year this time comes around, it feels like it couldn’t have come at a better stage. As if I’ve needed a reminder and the daily practice of connecting with the part of me that trusts in the now. I’ve always thought of it as a cleanse. Cleansing ourselves of the worldly desire to be a step ahead and where we are striving for this ever-changing view of perfection. Being the perfect Muslim, perfect woman, perfect wife, friend, sister, daughter and the list goes on. Which is where Sabr comes in.
Directly translated, Sabr means patience. I can hear mama saying to me as a child “sabr bitti, sabr” (patience my daughter, patience). I hated hearing that as a child, but she knew what she was talking about.
There’s something about the Arabic word that says so much more to me than just patience. Sabr feels like trusting in the past, present and future. It means surrendering to the higher power and to what has been willed. It feels like extending love to people I’ve never met & offering grace. There’s a certain level of perspective that Sabr gives us that we typically miss out on in our daily lives.
We live in a world that encourages being in fast-paced environments, moving from one thing to the next, knowing everything about everything, being better versions of ourselves yesterday and on top of all that, reflecting this image to the public with no space for reflection and just being.
The three main types of Sabr include patience in remaining close to the pillars of our spiritual practice, abstaining from what we know of as the temptations of this world and patience in the face of adversity. Ramadan naturally brings these qualities out of us which is why it feels like such a special time every year it comes around.
It’s almost like our natural instincts in this world are to be selfish because we are trying to survive. Sabr goes beyond that and wakes us up to who we actually are - which is loving, generous, trusting beings who come from a perspective of sharing and offering something to this world rather than just taking.
For me, this isn’t represented in the form of big gestures or doing something grand to show people that you’re such a good person. In fact, it’s completely the opposite. It’s in letting people take their time in front of you at the supermarket even though you had a hectic day and you just need to get that last ingredient. Or in giving way to people in traffic with joy even if it was your right of way. It’s taking a few minutes out of your day to write that colleague that answered the question you asked in a meeting a sweet thank you note.
This year, that is magnified 100 fold with the ongoing brutality faced in Gaza right now. Seeing the horror our Palestinian families have been facing over the last 76 years and in particular, the last 6 months has been soul-shattering. In all honesty, when I’ve broken my fast in the past, it always came with a sense of guilt that I was able to at least break my fast. But this Ramadan, with Gaza facing the most intense famine since the second world war and an incomprehensible amount of family members lost, there is a heaviness that weighs on every moment of everyday. In our practice & beliefs, we are taught to trust that there is a bigger picture and that the suffering of others will somehow be alleviated. There is a part of me that has noticed that this pain has encouraged those of us within and outside our faith to take part in fasting as an act of solidarity. In some aspects, this period has deepened our connection to our own humanity and while that doesn’t take the pain away, it feels like it lets in a little bit of light into this dark time.
There’s something about Sabr that removes us from the worldly things we are so attached to in life. It reminds us there’s something bigger that we are working towards and that the possessions and titles that we acquire are fleeting pleasures.
It means stopping myself when I feel I haven’t achieved everything I want to yet, or feel I should be ‘further ahead’. Because this month invites me to pause, look around and be content exactly where I am because it’s exactly where I’m meant to be. And that is perfect in itself.
For those who are observing Ramadan or are taking part in fasting, you can find the free Ramadan timetable poster designed by
Beit Jidu here.
Words by Tina Awny of Beit Jidu
