Ramadan in the Time of Pandemic

You can read a slightly different version of this in the San Jose Mercury News

This year’s Ramadan (April 24 to May 23) comes at perhaps the most challenging time of our lives. A killer virus is advancing like wildfire across the globe, leaving heartbreak and death in its wake. Confined to our homes, we are stressed and uncertain of the present and the future.

But hope is native to our nature. The Quran, the Islamic Book of Divine Guidance, instructs us never to give in to despair. Certainly no one despairs of God’s Mercy … (12:87)

When we become complacent and think that we can dictate our destiny, God warns us: And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient, who, when disaster strikes, say, “Indeed we belong to God, and indeed to Him we will return.” (2:155-156)

But God also assures us that Surely with hardship comes ease. Indeed, with hardship comes ease. (94:5-6) 

In this trying time, Ramadan reminds us to slow down, to pause and reflect on life’s big questions of meaning and purpose. So, where are you going? (81:26) asks the Quran. We must ask ourselves: Where, indeed, am I going with my life? Is it aligned with God’s expectations of me as defined by God, or am I going astray from a combination of ego, ingratitude, impatience, forgetfulness and other assorted flaws?

As we Muslims welcome Ramadan into our lives, we must remember the many in our community who have lost their jobs - cabdrivers, office assistants, caregivers, domestic help, daily wage earners, and others. They are among the more than 22 million of our jobless fellow-Americans facing a frightening future. We are traditionally most generous during Ramadan, and we pray that we can be even more generous during this Ramadan. Charity, the Quran tells us, is for the neediest, regardless of religion, particularly those who do not ask for help due to modesty or embarrassment. We must find and help them without in any way hurting their sense of dignity and self-respect

The doors of our mosques are closed, as are the doors of churches, synagogues, and temples. But thanking God for His blessings, mercy and forgiveness in the sacred days and nights of Ramadan can open windows in our hearts. Never for a moment should we forget that repentance can lead to redemption and remembrance of God to renewal. The dark shadow of life’s pain will, God Willing, be dispelled soon by the bright sunshine of life’s promises.

As it happens, today, Wednesday, April 22, 2020, is Earth Day. Fifty years ago, it dawned on us that there was no Planet B, that the Earth was the only home we had, and unless we cared for her, we were doomed. The forced isolation of the coronavirus has done one good thing: with little pollution defiling Mother Earth, the sky looks clearer and the vegetation pristine. Covid-19 pandemic has taught that we are not really the masters of the universe that we think we are. We know very little and our capacity is extremely limited. We have been committing crimes against nature, against animals, against all the sentient beings that we share the earth with. A single novel virus has collectively brought us to our knees. To survive, we must replace our hubris with humility. Repentance can lead to redemption and responsibility to renewal. That is also the lesson of Ramadan.

Dec. 8, '05

Sectarianism Bedevils the Muslim World

The rain was coming down hard when the 55-year old pediatrician Dr. Zehra Attari walked out of her Oakland clinic in Northern California on November 7 after sunset to drive to a medical conference a few miles away.

She never made it to her destination. In spite of the best efforts of the Oakland and San Jose police departments, she remains missing.

The Sunday following her disappearance, my son and I were among about 400 Muslims from the San Francisco Bay Area who gathered near her clinic to distribute flyers to pedestrians, local businesses, motorists and bus drivers for leads.

As we anguished over Dr. Attari’s inexplicable disappearance and held candlelight vigils for her, the news of Sunni suicide bombers killing at least 65 Shias (or Shiites) in two mosques in Eastern Iraq during the Friday congregational prayers on November 18 came as a numbing blow.

I found this crime particularly inhuman in light of the fact that Dr. Attari is a Shia and a significant number of us trying to trace her whereabouts are Sunnis.

Some of us like to bury our head in the sands but it is a fact that Muslims have been killing each other for years, in Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan and elsewhere.

But when someone we know disappears in our own backyard and Muslims of all sects – Shias, Sunnis, Sufis and any other label familiar to you – spontaneously gather to pray and search for her, the sectarian strife that bedevils the Muslim world sticks out in glaring contrast and becomes that much more reprehensible.

On the Friday of the Sunni suicide bombing in Iraq, the imam at the mosque I attend in Northern California lashed out at the perpetrators during his sermon. (Iraq is 11 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, so the news had already reached us.) “I have said this before and I say it again,” the imam said, his voice trembling with anger. “The suicide bombers and their planners are murderers, not martyrs. They are the real enemies of Islam. We must confront and defeat them, wherever they may lurk.”

To read the complete article, please click here

UPDATE: On December 21, six weeks after she disappeared, divers discovered Dr. Attari's car in an Oakland estuary and her body trapped in it. The same ramp - easy to mistake for a bridge, particularly at night and when it is raining - that led to the estuary had claimed two lives three years ago. No barrier was ever erected to prevent a lost driver from driving right into the ocean. Dr. Attari's funeral was held at the OakHill Cemetery in San Jose, on Thursday, December 22, and attended by about 500 grieving family and community members.