In this series, I share how we do Ramadan. The short answer is: Together.
In addition to fasting, we focus on praying, du‘a, listening to something with a deeper spiritual value, taraweeh (at the masjid when possible), and specific exercises that elevate our worship—as a family. It’s not always easy. But it always feels worth it in the end.
If you’re new to Sunday Schooled, here’s a guide to the different posts I share. (For the previous in this series, click here.) And here’s why I’m writing Sunday Schooled in the first place: To help Muslim parents raise thriving kids who love and live their faith.
The Halaqa Crashes The Iftar Party
This weekend, F and Z had about ten friends over for an Iftar party, featuring wonderful food—chocolate-and-honey drizzled, almond stuffed dates sprinkled with pounded pistachio (easily my favorite), a lively fruit salad, and a main course of Philly cheesesteaks, French fries, and fried chicken, none of which I should be eating, and way too many donuts and tea cakes (same). But, of course, no invitation to ten teenage girls is complete without forcing them to sit through an Uncle’s halaqa.
Because when you were that age, was there anything you wanted more than that?
Hint: I am now the Uncle.
I led a halaqa in two parts. The first was a reflection on thankfulness as a Muslim value; the second was a muraqabah, very similar to the muraqabah we did last week, except that this time, the room was much fuller. I’m still thinking over the first part, on thankfulness—I promise I’ll share it, but there’s more I need and want to reflect and expand on before then, so that part will have to wait.
For now, you can benefit from the muraqabah portion, whether you read it out loud or repurpose it for your own needs.
As a final note, the below is based on the notes I prepared for the muraqabah. When I was actually leading it, though—well, that turned out to be different at times, as these things usually unfold. But I believe the below still very much captures what I did say, just more succinctly and eloquently.
Please let me know if you find it helpful.
The Muraqabah: God Wanted You—And No One Can Take That Away From You (Not Even You)
We begin with a brief introduction to muraqabah, for those who want it or need it, and then move on to the muraqabah itself.
I.
Alhamdu lillahi rabbi’l ‘alameen
Wa’l-salatu wa’l-salamu ‘ala ashraf al mursaleen, sayyidna Muhammad
All praise is due to God, Lord of the universes, and prayers and peace upon the noblest of messengers, our Master, Teacher, and Example, Muhammad
What we’re going to do now is likely unfamiliar to a lot of you—it’s a muraqabah, an exercise that some Muslims developed over the course of our history as a way of creating a deeper awareness of ourselves and God, as a way of fulfilling the Qur’an’s repeated request that we think, reflect, contemplate, and also, it’s a tool Muslims refined to help us improve our focus in worship.
It’s a way we can be comfortable being alone with ourselves (which really means alone with God). These days, the world we live in is so different from the world of the seventh century, and obviously in certain ways it’s much easier, and requires much less effort—we enjoy blessings and opportunities that people throughout most of history could not have even imagined. But along the way we also lost certain things.
One of those is silence.
Especially in the last couple of decades, we’ve lost the ability to sit in silence. It’s almost impossible to go anywhere now without constantly being exposed to sound, to content, to information, to connection. We have an expectation that we are supposed to be entertained or engaged at all times. We can’t imagine doing anything without our phones. Of course, I’m not saying this is always bad or always good.
It has good, sure. But it has bad, too.
Because if we can’t be alone with ourselves, we’ll never know ourselves—or God. Praying. Doing du’a. This stuff becomes really hard to immerse ourselves in. During taraweeh, just notice how often people check their phones between prayer. Me too, if I’m sadly honest. Sure, maybe it’s necessary. But how focused, calm, and connected do I feel to God when my mind is in five places?
Muraqabah is something we do to help us focus on one thing and one thing only.
It’s good for worship, yes. It helps us keep our minds and hearts on God. But it’s also really good for life more generally. When we’re tired, stressed out, or anxious, the more you’re used to pulling your mind back to God, the less likely you are to overreact to something apparently negative. Because overreaction is just another word for poorly reacting.
It’s like how really good trainers teach athletes exercises that help them avoid injury, or lessen the impact of injury, or even just recover faster from injury.
It’s a means to an end. It’s the way you get better at doing something. It’s not the reason you’re doing that thing.
But it makes it more likely you’ll get more out of that thing. If you’ve trained yourself to put God and your conscience front and center, then when you get the hard tests in your life, you’ll be ready for them.
If there’s no questions, we can start the muraqabah.
II.
I’ll ask that you try to relax. Sit as comfortably as you can.
Once you’ve situated yourself, and you are where you want to be and how you want to be, gently close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to focus inwards. I want you to reflect on what I’m saying, but slowly, casually, and calmly.
Let your mind stay on what I’m saying, but if you get distracted or lose focus, or really when you do, because we all do—it’s okay. It’s fine. Just gently remind yourself to go back to what we’re talking about.
This is how the exercise helps us get better at praying, fasting, and really just everything in life.
Now. Take a deep breath and make sure those eyes are closed.
Think about where you are—where you’re sitting, what you’re sitting on, what the air in the room feels like, what sounds you can hear.
Now, all these things—the furniture, the carpet, the house you’re in, the clothes you’re wearing—all of them, down to the smallest unit, molecules, atoms, quarks, was created by God, and not just by God, but by God and ultimately out of nothing.
(Pause)
For Iftar tonight we’ve got cheesesteaks and fried chicken. All that food was made out of ingredients. Which were made out of other ingredients. We can’t make something without something to make it out of.
But God is different. God created everything ultimately out of nothing.
Because God has an ability no one else has — or can have. It’s kind of unreal, if you think about it. To make something—out of nothing.
We need food and water to exist. We know that in Ramadan. We need sleep. We definitely know that in Ramadan. But God doesn’t need anyone or anything to exist. He’s always existed. Before it even made sense to say before, before time or space existed, God was.
For as long as there has been a universe, or multiverse, for as long as there has been anything, and even before then, there was God.
(Pause)
And yet, God was aware of everything in His mind that He would do. He planned it, He willed it, He made it. You’re in a room with other people. Think about them for a moment. Think about everything else around you.
God didn’t just create them, but God sustains them. All the time.
Nothing can exist without God choosing for it to continue, every second of every day, over and over again. Which means God is intimately and exactly aware of every single molecule of every single thing, every second of every day, over and over again.
And that includes you.
God is aware of you at every single second of every single day. He is with you, wherever you are, and whenever you are, and however you are. He is the reason there is a you, every single second of every single day.
And He planned you.
(Pause)
Before anything else existed, and the universes were a plan in the mind of God, that included you. Billions and billions of things. Of animals. Of stars. Of people. Including you. And no force on the Earth or in the heavens could stop you from coming into existence—because He wanted you.
Is that part of the story you tell of yourself?
We all have stories, you see, we tell ourselves. We wish, maybe, we were different. We focus on negative things sometimes. I’m too tall. I’m too short. I weigh too much. I weigh too little. My voice isn’t right. My clothes aren’t right. I don’t have enough money. I’m not smart enough.
I don’t have the right friends.
I didn’t get into the right college.
I don’t have the right job.
But all of us, our worth, our value, our dignity as people, does not come from our gender, or our race, or our wealth, or who are parents are, or who our friends are, or what kind of car we came here in, or what kind of house we live in. It doesn’t even come from us, actually.
It comes from God.
Because God chose you, and conceived of you, and made you. And I want you to dwell on that for a moment, in warmth, in gratitude, in compassion. And right now, in this moment, in this calm, realize that the One who created you is intimately connected to you, hearing you and thinking of you.
And always is, and always will be.
And our goal, as Muslims, is to try to be in this state of awareness, all the time, because it is the truest thing in the world, it gives us purpose, and hope, and solace, it gives us meaning, and joy, and confidence, and it helps us get over the harms and hurt that the world causes us, or that we cause ourselves, when we forget.
When we forget who we really are.
So sit with God for a minute. You are in a silent, private conversation with Him.
(Pause)
You always are.
(Pause)
Except sometimes we forget.
(Pause)
But rest assured that He never does.
Now, take a deep breath, keeping your eyes gently closed, and trying to keep your mind focused on God—aware that He is aware of you, and you are aware of Him, and this is the most beautiful connection in the world.
(Pause)
Now, you can open your eyes slowly. Look around the room calmly. Take it all in. You’re away from that moment—but you never are. Remember that connection. Try to work on that connection. Return to it when you need to. Return to it often.
Be aware of Him as He is aware of you.
Up to God and Left and Right to Each Other
I hope you found that to be of benefit. Ramadan is so busy, and it’s so hard to squeeze in everything we want, but we can try to uplift ourselves and instill the few spare moments we have with some measure of faith and focus. To strengthen us for the long intervals of busyness, tiredness, and craziness that make up so much of our time. To bring faith to life.
Very soon, I’ll share the first installment of my new series, Sunday Schooled for Parents, which explores a Christian “centering prayer” not so dissimilar from muraqabah—my guest is Dr. Brian Russell of Asbury Theological Seminary. (I’ve got more coming soon, on topics like religion and academic success for boys, travel with kids, repentance and self-esteem, the Uyghur genocide, Islam in Eastern Europe, and more.)
I’ll also shortly release the first installment of the Young Men’s Halaqa, which I’m really looking forward to.
I’m sorry for being slow, but between Ramadan, a book release, and the ordinary obligations of everyday life (see also: work), I’m just behind.
Aren’t we all, though?
When I was much younger, and thought witty Islamic t-shirts were the best thing ever (I was not alone in this), I planned my own spin on those “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” ones—except mine would say, “I’ll sleep in the next life.” Yeah. Me at 18.
Somehow I still got married. So ladies, maybe that goofy brother seems a little rough around the edges, but think of us men as works-in-progress. Of course, before we go down that particular road, let’s stop and try something lighter.
I’ll end with an Al Jazeera graphic, shared with me by a cousin, on a family chat group, which lists Iftar times in different cities across the world. It’s a neat way to capture the diversity of the ummah and the generous evenhandedness of the Islamic calendar: By cycling across the seasons, no one place is unduly privileged (or tested).
It’s a reminder that our faith is made for the whole world—not just our corner of it.
Just about half of Ramadan is over, which breaks my heart. Here’s to keeping up the pace and, God willing, ending the last ten nights strong.
May Allah grant us the joy, the honor, and the consolation of each of those nights.