An Iraqi believer shares his reflections on Ramadan as a young boy in Baghdad.
by Wissam—
Growing up as a Muslim, I loved Ramadan. Ramadan was when mommy and daddy fasted, and this was so cool. The TV talked about Ramadan, people exchange courtesies of mutual respect for their fasting efforts, and mosques were unusually crowded with worshipers. Even the imam, who criticized the majority of those worshipers for not living a life of integrity throughout the rest of the year, calling them “Ubbad Ramadan,” (Ramadan Worshipers)—even he couldn’t hide his joy that his mosque was filled with diligent worshipers, especially after the Eve prayer. The long “Taraweeh” prayer was as much a part of Ramadan as the Find-the-Ring game and the Majeena (Trick-or-Treat) and the Baghdadi music and the Baklava after the Sunset meal. (This story happened when I was eight—Ramadan came in Baghdad’s early hot summer.)
And because Ramadan is associated with all these heavenly blessings and worldly joys, I wanted to fast like mommy and daddy. I wanted to join the adult world AND be loved by God. I asked my mom to wake me up for their Dawn meal at 4:30 a.m. (I also wanted to hear the neighborhood’s drummer waking people up). I ate the rich meal—the rice, the fried vermicelli noodles, the yogurt, and the apricot juice, which a normal person wouldn’t otherwise eat at that early part of the day—with such a pleasure. I’ll fast for the first time in my life now. My parents will proudly talk about me to the neighbors and relatives, and God will love me!
I still remember that day. You see, non-Muslims feel sorry for the children when they fast, but I actually didn’t feel hungry or thirsty at all. I enjoyed the challenge and I was talking, not directly with God, for that would be weird, but with myself about God. Is God happy with me now? No, not yet, I still have the rest of the day till Sunset before He is satisfied.
However, right before the Sunset meal, my cousin paid us an unexpected visit. He was an officer at the Iraqi Army, which was fighting Iran at that time. Because of that, and the fact that he has never been religious (still isn’t), he wasn’t fasting like the rest of the adults. I was criticizing him deep inside me: “Why aren’t you fasting? Don’t you love God? Are you above this whole community?” My mom made him a glass of orange juice and gave it to him as he sat in our courtyard talking with my parents.
Unknowingly, and as it has always been my habit, I ran to the glass and drank the leftover—less than an hour before the Sunset Cannon.
I realized what just happened right after the cold juice spoke from inside my stomach. I was devastated, sad, heartbroken, and bitter. “I’m sorry God! I forgot!” and I cried like crazy inside the house. Of course, my mom didn’t think that was a big issue at the time—even though she still remembers this story today. I strove the whole day to please God, and I messed it up right before the end.
I didn’t eat or drink since before Sunrise, and I kept on guard lest I break my fasting, and then I ruined all that effort. Even if God forgives me, I won’t forgive myself. I didn’t want God to forgive me. I’m not a child anymore, I wanted Him to recognize my work for Him. I wanted Him to acknowledge me as a human with responsibilities, not a child with concessions.
I worked the whole day for Him, and I didn’t finish strong. All-day effort, one-act error. That, from a child’s perspective, is exactly how it looks like to work trying to please an unpleasable God. The Bible says that we cannot work our way to God, that we cannot be saved by the works of any law, that laws demand perfect obedience and condemn upon the first transgression. Moreover, the Bible says that no one has ever been able to keep any law. When the Judaizers wanted to impose the Law of Moses on the new Christians, Peter reminded them of that fact, saying in Acts 15:10 “Now therefore, why do you test God by putting a yoke on the neck of the disciples which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear?”
The good news, though, is that the Bible tells us that God is rich. He is too rich to be in need of your work for him. He is not served with human hands as if He needed anything. God did not need my fasting. I fasted because it made me happy, proud, self-fulfilled. My relationship with God at the time was based on my own terms, not His. That was sinful. I thought that finishing my fasting was all there was to it. I didn’t know that there was way more than fasting in Islam and that no one can ever be perfect in the sight of its law, or any other law for that matter. No one, that is, but the only One who lived a perfect life and fulfilled the Law that He lived under, Jesus the Messiah.
Now, much later in life I understand some things that I did not understand then. As the-one-and-only Messiah, Jesus was the arch-enemy of the devil. He himself performed the perfect fast in extreme conditions and thwarted Satan's bold temptations. For this reason and others he proved that he is qualified to fight and vanquish the devil on my behalf and yours. He did that with his whole life, and especially through his death and resurrection. He is inviting you to enjoy the labor of His work and to obtain God’s true pleasure as I have.