June 16, 2016

Transcript for Samar Jarrah, Wajahat Ali, Sahar Ullah, et al. — Revealing Ramadan

August 12, 2010
Krista Tippett, Host: I'm Krista Tippett. We've entered Ramadan, the holiest month for the world's 1.5 billion Muslims. We won't discuss Ramadan this hour so much as experience something of its meaning, its delights, and its gravity through the memories and musings of Muslims from far-flung perspectives. From American Public Media, this is Speaking of Faith, public radio's conversation about religion, meaning, ethics, and ideas. Today, "Revealing Ramadan." Ramadan commemorates the month when the first verses of the Qur'an were revealed to the Prophet Mohammed. It is marked by recitation of the Qur'an, prayer, and fasting sunup to sundown. The Ramadan fast is a spiritual discipline of commitment and reflection, but it is also meant to align Muslims with the larger experience of need and hunger in the world. In that spirit, Ramadan is the time of active generosity, of practicing the core virtue of zakat, which translates roughly as almsgiving or charity. And Ramadan is a period of intimacy and of parties, of getting up when the world is quiet before the sun rises for breakfast and prayers with one's family, of ending or breaking the fast every day after nightfall in celebration and prayers with friends and strangers. This show grew out of an invitation to our Muslim listeners and podcasters leading up to Ramadan of 2009. We asked them to reflect with us on their lived experience of Islam, of what it means — in a daily particular way — to be part of what is often referred to in the abstract as "the Muslim world." We received hundreds of responses from people all over the world. And when we began to call some of them up and speak with them from their homes or offices, we were especially struck by the vivid stories about Ramadan that nearly everyone had to tell, across a spectrum of life and spiritual sensibility. We begin with Samar Jarrah, who grew up in Kuwait, has lived in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Jordan, and came to the U.S. two decades ago. She now lives, writes, and teaches in Florida, and she spoke to us just before Ramadan commenced.

Samar Jarrah: I just got back from Jordan actually last night, very late last night, and my family was telling me, "Why can't you just stay a bit longer and spend the week from Ramadan in Jordan or in Egypt?" I said, "You will never understand this, but the best Ramadan I ever spent in my life is always in America because I feel sometimes I'm the only person fasting." It's more strenuous. I feel like every day is a Jihad for me, the struggle to maintain my faith, maintain my fast despite the amazing food around me and the smell. If I go shopping or if I go to the mall, there is food everywhere. Everybody is eating except myself and this brings me amazing strength. I wake up very early in the morning. I can be lecturing, I can be driving to my class a hundred miles each way, I can be feeding the homeless, I can be doing amazing stuff that I would not be doing if I were living in a Muslim country because the whole country would be fasting and I would be one of many. Last year, I was giving two lectures in a row, in Sarasota, to a college and the lecture starts one hour and a half before the time of breaking the fast. So I was giving the lecture, giving it and at around 7:45 I paused, and I just took a date and a sip of water and I told my students, "I'm breaking my fasting," and I continued another hour and a half. Then I had an hour and a half to get back home, and I was not weak. I was full of life, and I felt, "My God, now I understand what it means to be fasting Ramadan in America. I bet you, if I was living in my mom's house, I would be dead if I missed my meal half an hour after the time of the breaking of the fast." This experience is priceless, and that's why I did everything, I even paid extra money for my tickets, to make sure I arrived before Ramadan starts because this is where I feel I'm really fasting with a meaning and a purpose. Especially it happens that, during Ramadan, we go and feed the homeless. So there is so much food I am giving those people and people are telling me, "Why don't you taste this? Why don't you taste this?" I tell them, "I can't. I'm fasting." They say, "Why don't you just have a sip of water?" I say, "I can't. I'm fasting." You can't imagine how blessed I feel that I'm feeding homeless people and I am fasting and I can't touch the food. That's the whole idea of Ramadan, not to be able to eat, to feel with the poor and the deprived, and I just love it.

Wajhat Ali: My name is Wajahat Ali, and I'm from the Bay Area of California.

Ms. Tippett: Wajahat is a playwright and first-generation Pakistani-American.

Wajhat Ali: I remember when I used to go to UC Berkeley. We used to always say, "breaking the fast, we're breaking the fast, we're breaking the fast, we're breaking the fast." But I remember my Arabic teacher, it's like, "No, linguistically, what you're doing is actually you are opening your fast. You're opening your fast with a date." So from then on after I've always said, "opening my fast." Essentially, that act of worship continues throughout the month. It doesn't end with the fast, right? I've been growing up Muslim my whole life, right? So sometimes I give you — most of my friends were being atheists also and agnostics, which I thought was great, and Christians. You know, once in a while, they'd give these snide comments. They're like, "How does a Muslim fast during Ramadan if he has like sugar problems?" What does a Muslim do if he has to eat?" I kept telling them that Ramadan is not just predicated upon eating or not eating or drinking or not drinking. It's a state of mind and an attempt to achieve God consciousness that carries on throughout the day. So even if you can't eat the date, you can be nice to your neighbor. You can repair relations with your family members, right? You know, you can help prepare the meal for the Muslims who fast. So your fast continues, you know, after you open it with the date. There's a great story that I tell and I wish I had more opportunities for telling it. You know, Islam has a lot of beauty in it, and I can understand the viewpoint of many in America who see the violence and arrogance espoused by reactionaries, which mars the beauty of Islam in their eyes, and that's understandable. As a Muslim-American, I can understand why people would have that reaction and limited understanding of Islam. But, you know, it's also a religion which inspires the poetry of Rumi, whose love for the divine has created verses that survived 800 years and nourished the spirits of lovers around the globe. When it comes to Ramadan, some of the most beautiful moments that exist within the Muslim community and within Islam becomes manifest during this month. I remember one time when I went to Mecca, which is the holiest site of pilgrimage for Muslims. I was in Mecca and I was doing umrah. Umrah is essentially like a mini version of haji. It's the easiest way I can explain it. I was in college and it was during Ramadan and I had just finished umrah which took about two and a half hours and I hadn't eaten anything and I'm fasting and it's hot and I'm wearing these two white shawls. I remember praying that, you know, I wish the sun would set and I'm hungry. I remember in this Masjid al-Haram — that's the name of the mosque — what you call the black cube, the Kaaba. The sun set and the entire world just woke up and everyone went to the mosque. I remember like 15 or 20 children came up to me and each one taking my hand and tugging my finger and with smiles on their faces saying, "Come to the mosque, come to the mosque" in Arabic. Basically, what they had done is they had prepared a small bowl with a date and some fruit and some milk. Thousands of these bowls on these mats for all the Muslims around the city who were coming to the mosque. So these children, who I've never met before in this life, you know, just one after another, one after another, just, "Come to the bowl that I prepared. Come eat the bowl that I prepared. No, please eat my bowl. Please eat my bowl." I sat there eating this bowl, opening my fast next to strangers I've never met before and greeted them with peace in the holy mosque. There was just a sense of overwhelming beauty and it's a memory that I cherish. But sometimes, you know, when you see the violence and extremism and the arrogance and the ignorance and the anger, that memory nourishes me.

Ms. Tippett: Yanina Vashchenko lives in Dallas. As she told us in part of an essay we asked her to read, Ramadan was a way into Islam for her.

Yanina Vashchenko: So I first fasted for Ramadan, and I loved it. It was strange because I have never been a person who skipped a meal or gave up the extra piece of cake, so how could I not eat or drink the whole day over and over again? It had to be something bigger than my base desires that was driving me. That was the most peaceful I had ever felt. It was unreal. Of course, it was not something I was going to forget about, but it led me further and further into Islamic practices.

Ms. Tippett: Yanina's family moved from Russia to Texas when she was eight years old. She was raised in Eastern Orthodox Christianity, spent several years as a nondenominational Christian, and converted to Islam five years ago in her early twenties.

Yanina Vashchenko: I know a lot of converts, and I know the convert syndrome, especially with Islam, and that is to be better than and more pious than the born Muslims because you feel like you have to make up for the fact that you're starting late or you don't know all the rules and things like that. I don't have that feeling at all, so I don't use Arabic words in my speech. I don't dress a certain way because, in Islam, it doesn't say you have to. I mean, I haven't found any proof that you have to, and that's the good thing about it. This religion in particular tells you that you choose your own path. You use your own brain and you act according to the rules that have been given, but there's always that emphasis on finding out the best way to do something. Two special resonance moments, I guess, the first time I fasted for Ramadan, I actually did it for the whole 30 days. It was just a completely new experience for me and the fact that you just get this indescribable peaceful feeling. I mean, you don't know why it's happening, but not only are you practicing self-restraint, it's almost like you're doing something for a higher power. I guess that's where the peaceful feeling comes in. That was the first time I had ever felt that way before, so that's a special memory. Also, it's hard to learn the movements and the prayers in Arabic, you know, and do them the correct way in sequence. It took a while of, you know, practicing in order to commit that to memory. So when I could do it, I felt like it was almost like I was finally committed to something. It was something that was a little difficult. And any time something is difficult, you appreciate it more when you succeed or you master it, I guess. So in that sense, it was an accomplishment and, from now on, I'll never forget those words. You know, once you commit something to memory, even if you don't say it for a long time, it's always there. I feel like, no matter what, I can always pray and use those words to have peace and inner calm.

Ms. Tippett: I'm Krista Tippett, and this is Speaking of Faith from American Public Media — today with stories, memories, and musings from inside the experience of Ramadan. 30 Muslims told their stories over 30 days. Take that journey with them. Find out how at speakingoffaith.org.

Maria Romero: My name is Maria Enrique Romero, and this August 2009, it'll be 11 years since I took Shahadah and came to Islam.

Ms. Tippett: Maria lives in Seattle. She is Mexican-American, a lawyer, a single mother. She grew up Roman Catholic and married an Arab-Muslim man. Only after their divorce did she convert to Islam. Maria has a defining memory of fasting during Ramadan after she had separated from her husband.

Maria Romero: I think the most difficult Ramadan was I hadn't converted to Islam yet, but I was "studying" Islam, so that Ramadan came around and I was fasting. My mother was quite opposed to me coming to Islam. "Why didn't you come to Islam while you were married to this person? That I could understand. I can't understand you doing on your own." In years past, in order to support him, I would fast with him during Ramadan even though I wasn't a Muslim. The year we got married, Ramadan and Lent fell around the same time. I had told him, "OK, I'll fast with you, but on Fridays we have to break our fast with fish" because I can't have meat on Fridays. But things get better. Last year, we opened our home to single and convert Muslim females. I know what it's like to not have a tradition, a family gathering in your home, and specific particular meals for Ramadan. Last year was the first year that I felt I had a home large enough where I could welcome someone and that I had the financial resources to be able to say, "You're welcome in our home. I may not know you, but you're a convert or you're a single sister and I don't want you to be alone for at least one night." We would do it on Wednesdays. We're not having it in my home this year, but we're having it in cabanas, because they're larger, because we hope to have more women.

Ms. Tippett: Ibrahim Al-Marashi grew up Iraqi-American in northern California. A scholar of modern history with a focus on the Middle East and political communications, he's taught in the U.S. and Turkey and currently in Spain. And the curiosity that took him to Spain flows into the Ramadan story he likes to tell.

Ibrahim Al-Marashi: I was studying as an undergrad at UCLA, and I remember that, during the day, a fellow Iraqi-Muslim who doesn't practice the faith, she knew I was fasting, yet she was still eating an ice cream in my face to kind of taunt my practice of my religious belief at the university. I remember that moment because usually when you think about Muslims, you think of this one monolithic block who's engaged in kind of these Islamic rituals without any kind of deviation, yet I still remember this girl eating her Baskin & Robbins ice cream in the classroom. At the same time, there was this Jewish person in the class, a Jew from Iran. He also had an ice cream. It was a very hot day. He knew I was fasting and he walked out of the classroom. It just goes to show me that, you know, you have this kind of image of Judaism and Islam locked in this kind of intractable conflict. Yet it's those kind of daily moments that here is a Jew from Iran more considerate of my religious beliefs than a fellow Iraqi-Muslim. That kind of reminded me that it doesn't matter what religion you are. You could be sensitive to other peoples' beliefs. I mean, one of the interests I have, particularly living in Islamic Spain, is this kind of interplay of this kind of harmony in Jewish-Muslim relations as well as what the Spanish term the convivencia, the ability of Spaniards, Jews, Muslims, and Christians alike to live together. This is one of the areas I find that's fascinating to research. I often remember that Ramadan incident when I'm reading various books and sources on the subject.

Sahar Ullah: My name is Sahar Ullah and I am 26.

Ms. Tippett: Sahar comes from a Bengali family. She recently completed graduate work in Middle Eastern Studies and spoke with us from her home in Florida.

Sahar Ullah: I have a lot of stories. The first Ramadan that I actually fasted the entire month, I happened to be in sixth grade. I was really excited. I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna be like an adult and I'm gonna fast the entire month. You know, Ramadan, like in the States especially, is always marked by Muslims debating whether the moon was sighted and whether today is the day or, you know, the next day is actually the first day of Ramadan. But anyway, the first day of Ramadan happened to be on the day of the first field trip of the year. I was so excited about this field trip because we'd get to go to McDonald's for lunch and we didn't have to bring our bag lunches. When I found out that Ramadan was starting on the day of the field trip, I was so mad [laugh], and then I thought to myself, you know, I should be a really good spiritual person and consider this as like part of the struggle, you know, the struggle of being Muslim. Of course, my friends, they didn't make it any easier [laugh], so when we went to McDonald's and everybody ordered their meals, I just sat there staring at them. I remember one of my friends kept eating her fries like really slowly in front of me and telling me like, "Mmm, don't you want some fries? Don't you wish you could eat these?" I kept saying, "No, I'm fasting, I'm fasting. I can't eat them." Maybe half an hour later, before we were about to leave, the manager came up and she is like, "I'm looking for a young lady in a plaid shirt." She saw me and she said, "Well, this is for you. There is two gentlemen who wanted me to give this to you." They were like two big meals [laugh] with a burger and fries and drinks. I remember those two men, like they were looking at us because all of my friends were teasing me, and they were wearing scrubs. You know, they were either med students or physicians. They must have thought: one, that I was poor and I didn't have the money to get food and I was too proud to ask anyone else for food, or that I was starving myself and I was just another girl with some kind of eating disorder. But anyway, it was a really nice gesture, but at the same time, I couldn't eat it. There was still four hours left for breaking the fast [laugh], so I gave away the burgers and I gave away the drinks and I broke my fast with the fries on my first Ramadan. That's always a memory I turn to and laugh about, speaking of being Muslim in America.

Adnan Onart: My name is Adnan. Although I am Turkish. My name is Arabic after my great-grandfather's name. Right after 9/11, this name Adnan has been on the most-wanted list of the FBI, so there's a certain association in peoples' mind in hearing Adnan. People are getting a little concerned maybe.

Ms. Tippett: Adnan Onart lives in Boston, Massachusetts, where he and his wife are active Muslim members of a Unitarian Universalist congregation. We finish this first half of our program with a poem, "Ramadan in Dunkin' Donuts," which Adnan wrote and read for us.

Adnan Onart: [Reciting poem]
Ramadan in Dunkin Donuts

From his asking about the time  and double-checking his watch,  I understood:  he was about to break his fast.  Selamün Aleyküm, I said,  the only Arabic I knew  for all practical purposes.  Aleyküm Selam, he replied.  He was setting his table:  two donuts, one Chocolate Glazed,  the other Boston Kreme  and a thick lentil soup  he had apparently brought  from the grocery store  across the street.  Do you want to sit down  and share?   I thanked him, no.  Aren't you fasting?  I explained:  my high blood pressure,  my medication.  He pointed to one of the donuts:  Still, he said, let's share.  The collapsing Twin Towers,  the beheaded hostages,  and the jumpy look on people's faces  hearing my name.  We already do, I said.
Ms. Tippett: Poetry was Adnan Onart's response to our invitation for expressions of Muslim identity. He first submitted "Morning Prayer," which he wrote as he was coming out of a deep depression. You can read, stream and download four poems of his, including "Ramadan in Dunkin' Donuts," on our website, speakingoffaith.org. We've also created an interactive map there of the more than 30 Muslims we interviewed for this program. Explore the richness of their lives and stories from Seattle to Madrid. Check out our "Revealing Ramadan" website and subscribe to the podcast at speakingoffaith.org. Coming up, Ramadan on a shop floor in the garment district of New York, Ramadan sermons in Texas devoted to domestic violence, Ramadan in Manchester, England, Ramadan and Rumi.

Steven Longden: We start every chapter with "Bismillah al rahman al rahim," which means, "In the name of Allah, the most mystical, the most kind. With regards to time, surely humankind is at a loss except those who believe and do good deeds and are steadfast in truths and are steadfast with patience."

I'm Krista Tippett. Stay with us. This program comes to you from American Public Media. [Announcements] Ms. Tippett: I'm Krista Tippett, and this is Speaking of Faith — conversation about religion, meaning, ethics, and ideas. Today: "Revealing Ramadan" — exploring the delights and the gravity of Islam's holiest month. Ramadan commemorates the revelation of the earliest verses of the Qur'an to the Prophet Mohammed. It shifts along the Western calendar across time, according to cycles of the moon, and depending on the lunar cycles of any given year, it is either 29 or 30 days long. We gathered the voices of this hour heading into Ramadan of 2009. We invited Muslims to tell us what it means to be Muslim in our time in spiritual but also in practical human terms. And we received essays from people all over the world. They range in age from their teens to their 70s. They are Iraqi-American, Californian, but also Mexican-American and Russian-American converts from other faiths. Quite a few have written to us from robust Muslim communities in places like Dallas and Seattle. For this show, we called up a few at home or work to hear their voices. Together they embody the multiplicity and singularity, as one put it — of this tradition of 1.5 billion people.

Feruze Faison: My name is Feruze Faison. I am from Turkey, and I've been living in the United States in New York City for the past 20-something years.

Ms. Tippett: After an early marriage in the U.S., Feruze met, as she says, the love of her life, her current partner, a woman. This is a source of estrangement between her and her family. Her Islamic sensibility is deeply influenced by the Sufi poetry of Rumi and others that she breathed in the air of her childhood in Istanbul.

Feruze Faison: Fasting is a very interesting experience. The fact that, first of all, it teaches you that you can do so much more than you think you can. It could be 90 degrees and on a regular day which is not Ramadan, on a regular day when you don't have to fast, you can't go without drinking water more than an hour. But during Ramadan, for some reason, you can. You can go the whole day. And at the end of the day, when you take that first sip of water, it is the sweetest thing in the world. That accomplishment, that, wow, I can actually do this, that was always a big deal for me even as a young child. Even though I didn't do the whole month, but I did a day here, a day there. I was like, wow, I could actually do this. If I can do this, God knows what else I can do. Fasting clears my mind. I can only talk for myself, but I feel that I could concentrate more and I could meditate much deeper. The reason for this, as I read from an author from Turkey, Ahmed Hulusi, he explains it. He says when you're not fasting, a lot of your blood and a lot of your bodily energy is around your intestines, your stomach, so your brain loses out on a lot of energy. But once you stop input to the stomach, now your body can really heal other parts and the brain can take as much energy as it needs and wants. So your thought is much clearer and your understanding. When you read and you meditate, you understand much more.

Tayyaba Syed: My name is Tayyaba Syed. I am from Glendale Heights, Illinois. I am 28 years old, mom of two. I substitute at various Islamic schools when I have time. And other than that, I am a stay-at-home mom, and I'm helping take care of my parents throughout the week.

Ms. Tippett: "In my faith," Tayyaba wrote to us, "parents are highly regarded. We have to honor and respect them unreservedly and treat them with utter kindness." And her Ramadan story revolves around her father.

Tayyaba Syed: I do remember watching my parents and my older siblings fasting as a younger child and wanting to, you know, be able to fast too because it's such a big part of our faith. So I think I was maybe nine or 10 years old. Kids do not have to fast until after puberty or once you've entered puberty. So I woke up. We have to eat before the sun comes up in the morning, so I woke up and I'd had some breakfast and I think around nine, 10 o'clock, I told my father, "I think I can do this. I think I can continue the rest of the fast." He was so concerned. He was like, "No, no, no. You're too little. You do not need to fast. It's not obligatory on you. Don't worry about it." I was like, "No, Dad, I can do it. Just let me try. Just let me get through the rest of the day." He's like, "Let's take baby steps. You woke up, that's a big thing. You had breakfast with us. That's a big thing. Maybe next year, you can fast for half the day." I remember he was like, "Here, drink this water and break your fast." I was so devastated. I was so disappointed, but when I was able to fast, you know, it was a great big deal. With a child's first fast is a big deal in our faith. But, yeah, that's one of the first memories I have of Ramadan. It's a beautiful month of spirituality and unity and family and community coming together. A lot of time is spent in the mosque in prayer and reading the Qur'an. I love it. I'm really excited about the month.

Allee Ramadhan: My name is Allee Ramadhan, and I'm from Derwood, Maryland. I was born as a Muslim here in America more than 65 years ago, and I did not stress that fact in my life as a child.

Ms. Tippett: Allee is now himself the father of 11 children. He retired last year as a federal prosecutor. He does not fast during Ramadan for health reasons. Even so, like many with whom we spoke from very different directions, Ramadan is still a kind of prism for the way he understands and lives Islam.

Allee Ramadhan: Well, first off, my faith, what I enjoy about it and what I have always treasured about it, is that I saw it as a personal faith. In other words, there was nothing between me and my God, and so it allowed me to interpret certain things. It allowed me a greater freedom in my understanding of my God. So as I try to practice my faith in praying five times a day, it constantly in a sense keeps me as a reminder and in contact with my faith and my God, and therefore I try to remain humble. I think it helps me to remain humble. When you remain humble in a world, you approach people in a kind of a quality. It manifests itself in everything I do. Because I am a diabetic, I don't fast during the month of Ramadan. I know the month of Ramadan is a time of discipline, but I don't see fasting and I don't see it as something that God wanted us to put our lives in danger on. There are other ways that I try to celebrate the month. I try to be a little more generous than I normally am, so I try to compensate in other ways.

Nadia Sheikh Bandukda: My name is Nadia Sheikh Bandukda. I live near Princeton, New Jersey. My father was born and raised in Kenya, moved to England, came to America, sounded just like me or any other Joe [laugh]. And my mom was from Pakistan, came over when she was 15, but still sounds like she just moved over.

Ms. Tippett: Nadia just graduated from college with a degree in political science. She's working at a nonprofit focused on immigration issues and is writing her first novel. Her Ramadan memory is set in a household goods store in the garment district of New York City that her father owned.

Nadia Sheikh Bandukda: After he came back from England, he opened up a small retail store and it was a largely Jewish-populated district and it's a largely Jewish-populated kind of business as well. My father's business partner was a man named Isaac Cohen, and he broke the fast with us almost every time I visited the store with my dad. We would just sit around. The security guards were African descent. The cashiers were from, you know, Southeast Asia. The women on the floor that helped customers with certain questions were Hispanic. You know, exactly kind of the microcosm of what New York is in this small retail store, you know, with about 40 employees. At the time to break fast, you would see the people behind the register just kind of eating and breaking the fast and us going around with trays, me and my sisters going around with trays giving dates to everyone in the store. Sometimes customers would be like, "Oh, do you sell these in the store?" "No, we're breaking the fast. Would you like one?" They would eat it and they would be interested. They would ask where it was sold. It was not about the eating. It was about sharing. It was nice. It was just the whole experience.

Ms. Tippett: I'm Krista Tippett, and this is Speaking of Faith from American Public Media. Today, "Revealing Ramadan." Longer versions of the stories you've heard thus far and many others are available for download on our website. And get our special podcast daily for the 30 days of Ramadan at speakingoffaith.org — stories, memories, and musings from inside far-flung experiences of Islam's holiest month.

Nicole Queen: When I first started the transition from party girl to "I'm going to work a job and devote myself to God," it was definitely a rough transition. There's a lot that you have to learn if you want to really take another religion into your heart.

Ms. Tippett: Nicole Queen was born in Houston and raised Southern Baptist. Out of college, she worked as a photographer covering celebrities and nightlife. As she grew disillusioned with that lifestyle, she became intrigued with the ideas and preaching of Yusuf Estes, a fellow Protestant Christian Texan who converted to Islam nearly three decades ago. Now in her late 20s, Nicole is a practicing Muslim, as is her husband and his family. She is very involved in the Muslim community of Dallas and focuses on photography and blogging on charitable and Islamic subjects.

Nicole Queen: I started to fast the month of Ramadan two years before I actually converted to Islam because I used to think it was just a pretty cool thing. Like people said, you know what, this month I'm not going to eat or drink anything until the sun goes down, and that kind of makes you all equal — like everybody is hungry, everybody is thirsty, and it also humbles you. Like it teaches you what it's like for the people who don't have access to all the food and water that we have. So I would fast on my own, you know, or with a couple of friends. I would fast through the month and it felt great. I remember my first year to fast Ramadan as a Muslim, I thought, you know, I've done this before. But when you fast as a Muslim, I remember it was just a completely different feeling. You feel like you're glowing the whole month, you know, and it's a really tough thing to do because, when you fast as a Muslim, you're not just fasting. You have lots of extra praying and everything. Your intentions the whole time are about, you know, worship and about what you're offering to God and your sacrificing that you're making. You get together with other families. When you first become a Muslim, you just feel kind of alone, like as a convert. You feel kind of alone because you're a convert to them and, to your family, you're pretty rebellious. You're being really different, you know, so I remember that first Ramadan. I really felt like I had a place with people. I had a home with them and I had a place with my in-laws, so I think that that first Ramadan was when I actually started to feel like I belonged to one group or the other. You know, it really was kind of a special moment for me in that.

Sabiha Shariff: My name is Sabiha Shariff and I was born in Bombay, India, now known as Mumbai. We migrated to this country in 1982.

Ms. Tippett: Until three years ago, Sabiha lived in New Jersey where she worked in the corporate world. Now retired and also living in Dallas, she works in her community on issues of homelessness and domestic violence. As she tells her Ramadan story, she uses the Arabic word for mosque, masjid.

Sabiha Shariff: There is this organization that I'm a member of. It's called the Texas Muslim Women's Foundation. Last Ramadan, they had a domestic violence awareness day in all the masjids in the Metroplex at the same day, which was the second Friday of Ramadan. That clearly comes to my mind because it was every — you know on Fridays they have a sermon which is called the hudba, every Friday. That particular Friday which was the second Friday of Ramadan, this organization requested all the masjids in the Metroplex to give a hudba pertaining to domestic violence. I think that it was really beautiful because it drew the awareness that there's a lot of domestic abuse going on, you know, in families here, and it brought the awareness to the general public. I thought it was great because the same thought, the same message, was relayed throughout the Metroplex area on one single Friday, and it was done in the holy month, so that, you know, I think people are more aware during this month because of the obligatory charity that they have to do is mostly encouraged in the month of Ramadan. People just open their hearts and their wallets, and there are so many causes that come up in the masjids. So many people come and ask for funds, and people just give and give, you know, no matter what their financial status. That, I think, is one of the beautiful things in Ramadan.

Steven Longden: My name is Steven Longden. I'm from Manchester, which is in the north of England. So this year, at the start of Ramadan, which you need to appreciate that the Islamic day starts at sundown as with the Jewish faith, so at the start of Ramadan this year, it was half past eight in the evening. So we're all wishing each other a happy Ramadan in the family and our neighbors and sending e-mails and texts and telephone calls. Obviously, the children do that with all their grandparents and friends. It's an exciting time, as you can imagine, for everybody in the family.

Ms. Tippett: Steven converted to Islam in 1990. The whole of the Qur'an divided into 30 parts is read in Muslim congregations and families across the month of Ramadan. We close this hour with Steven's reading of a passage from the Qur'an that expresses the essence of faith and of Ramadan for him.

Steven Longden: Now you'll have to forgive me because we're fasting and my throat is a little dry, so forgive me if it sounds a little rusty. I'm going to recite a chapter of the Qur'an which comes toward the end of the Qur'an. It's one of the short chapters and it's called [Arabic Spoken], which means — the chapter's name is Time. So here goes. [Reciting chapter in Arabic] Steven Longden: So that's my little effort reciting the Qur'an. In English, I'll translate that. We start every chapter with "Bismillah al rahman al rahim," which means, "In the name of Allah, the most mystical, the most kind. With regards to time, surely humankind is at a loss except those who believe and do good deeds and are steadfast in truths and are steadfast with patience," and that's it.

Ms. Tippett:This show came about unexpectedly. We were listening to stories of Muslims we recorded for another show called Living Islam, and nearly every person had a defining, sparkling Ramadan memory to share. So we decided to create a place — a special place for others to hear these embodied reflections in and of themselves. The result is our 30-day Ramadan podcast and this radio show. You can listen or download these stories at our website, speakingoffaith.org. And, we have some pretty exciting, and slightly scary, news. Starting in mid-September, this program is changing its name. This is not a change in what we do on the show. This will still be public radio's conversation about faith, meaning, ethics and ideas. But we want to more spaciously reflect how that conversation has grown and evolved — what we've learned from our guests and our listeners. The Ramadan stories we just heard are, for me, a classic example of the way we've broken open the very notion of what it means to speak of faith — It's not an exploration of beliefs to argue about. It is an exploration of how we live our deepest virtues and questions. And how these virtues and questions find expression in every sphere of life and across boundaries of belief and of non-belief. So please find my thoughts on the next name of this program — I've written them up and called it "From Faith to Being." You'll find it at our blog, Pertinent Posts from the Speaking of Faith Blog, which you can always access through speakingoffaith.org. And of course let us know what you think about the next phase of this adventure. This program is produced by Colleen Scheck, Chris Heagle, Nancy Rosenbaum, and Shubha Bala. Anne Breckbill is our Web developer. Trent Gilliss is our senior editor. Special thanks this week to Omid Safi. Kate Moos is our Managing Producer. And I'm Krista Tippett.

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is the co-host of True Talk, a global affairs talk show on WMNF in Tampa. She grew up in Kuwait.

is the creative director at Affinis Labs. He was previously the co-host of the Al Jazeera America show, The Stream. He’s a playwright, and a first-generation Pakistani-American.

is a PhD student at Columbia University studying Arabic and Comparative Literature.

is a professor of Middle East History at California State University in San Marcos. He has also taught in Turkey and Spain.

is a former senior program officer in the Academy for International Conflict Management and Peacebuilding at the United States Institute of Peace. She is a professor of Conflict Resolution Studies at NOVA Southeastern University.

is a poet. He lives in Boston, Massachusetts, where he is an active Muslim member of a Unitarian Universalist congregation.

grew up in Istanbul and now lives and teaches elementary school in New York.

is Mexican-American, a lawyer, and a mother. She lives in Seattle.

is a Pakistani-American author, freelance journalist, and writing coach. She is a writer for Umm Nura’s chapter book series for children, Jannah Jewels.

emigrated from Russia to Dallas, Texas when she was eight years old. She is a bilingual elementary school teacher. She grew up in the Russian Orthodox Church.

is a retired federal prosecutor and the father of 11 children. He lives in New York.

is a multimedia artist and photographer in Washington, D.C. She is the founder of D.C. Townhall Dialogues and Muslims Against Homophobia and LGBT Hate.

is an attorney specializing in labor and employment issues.

is a photographer living in Dallas, Texas.

lives in Dallas, Texas where she volunteers with the Texas Muslim Women’s Foundation.

is a Mancunian who converted to Islam in 1993.