The Muslim holy yet festive month of Ramadan, during which believers fast from dawn and dusk, pray more ardently than usual, and redouble their charitable efforts, begins Monday.
The exact date and time is always a matter of lively discussion in the Islamic world, because it depends on the initial sighting of the new moon, which varies by location.
Fawad Siddiqui, a 32-year-old Hialeah born-and-bred actor, remembers when debates on the subject got so “vitriolic’’ at the mosque where his family worshipped that someone would call the cops.
Muslims from the Indian Subcontinent tend to rely on direct observation, he said, while in the Arab world, governments “make a pronouncement. They want it to be streamlined and a little neater.’’
But Friday, following afternoon prayers at the Islamic Center of Greater Miami in Miami Gardens, which his family helped establish, Siddiqui said that people don’t get so wrought up about it anymore, and not just because sophisticated astronomical observations can pinpoint the moment.
“Nine-eleven rubbed over the nuances,’’ said Siddiqui, whose parents emigrated from Pakistan. “Nine-eleven put everything in perspective.’’
That’s good news in South Florida’s culturally diverse Muslim community, he said, noting how many nationalities were represented among Friday’s worshippers.
But distinctions within the community are largely lost on non-Muslims, as some of the loudest voices — “demagogues who try to paint it as a monolith’’ — preach suspicion and distrust, he said.
In his pre-Ramadan sermon, the Islamic Center’s spiritual leader, Imam Ahmad Akcin, addressed the matter broadly, defining the fast not just as abstinence from food, but as a commitment to humility and reverence.
“When anybody approaches you to fight with you, you must say: ‘I am fasting. I cannot respond to your provocation.’’’
Violence, he said, “spoils our piety.’’
Encouraging several hundred worshippers to embrace the discipline that Ramadan demands, he stressed the health benefits of fasting on the digestive system and its spiritual benefits on the psyche, which, ideally, should linger once the holiday ends on the last day of Islam’s ninth month: Eid al-Fitr on Aug. 31.
“Ramadan gives you peace and tranquility,’’ Akcin said. “Personal hostility is at a minimum.’’
Kadiatou Traore, a 21-year-old nursing student from the West African country of Mali, was among the first worshippers on the women’s side of the mosque, separated from the men by walls made of gauzy fabric.
She was looking forward to the holiday because of the fast, and because the community gathers each evening to pray and eat supper as one big family.
Seated on thick green carpeting, she explained that she grew up with a Christian mother and a Muslim father, explored both faiths, and ultimately chose Islam because “it makes me feel closer to God.’’
Ramadan “is good for my diet,’’ said Traore, who lost 20 pounds last year when she gave up fast food.
“It’s a time of change,’’ she said. “It makes me feel like I can do anything.’’
The exact date and time is always a matter of lively discussion in the Islamic world, because it depends on the initial sighting of the new moon, which varies by location.
Fawad Siddiqui, a 32-year-old Hialeah born-and-bred actor, remembers when debates on the subject got so “vitriolic’’ at the mosque where his family worshipped that someone would call the cops.
Muslims from the Indian Subcontinent tend to rely on direct observation, he said, while in the Arab world, governments “make a pronouncement. They want it to be streamlined and a little neater.’’
But Friday, following afternoon prayers at the Islamic Center of Greater Miami in Miami Gardens, which his family helped establish, Siddiqui said that people don’t get so wrought up about it anymore, and not just because sophisticated astronomical observations can pinpoint the moment.
“Nine-eleven rubbed over the nuances,’’ said Siddiqui, whose parents emigrated from Pakistan. “Nine-eleven put everything in perspective.’’
That’s good news in South Florida’s culturally diverse Muslim community, he said, noting how many nationalities were represented among Friday’s worshippers.
But distinctions within the community are largely lost on non-Muslims, as some of the loudest voices — “demagogues who try to paint it as a monolith’’ — preach suspicion and distrust, he said.
In his pre-Ramadan sermon, the Islamic Center’s spiritual leader, Imam Ahmad Akcin, addressed the matter broadly, defining the fast not just as abstinence from food, but as a commitment to humility and reverence.
“When anybody approaches you to fight with you, you must say: ‘I am fasting. I cannot respond to your provocation.’’’
Violence, he said, “spoils our piety.’’
Encouraging several hundred worshippers to embrace the discipline that Ramadan demands, he stressed the health benefits of fasting on the digestive system and its spiritual benefits on the psyche, which, ideally, should linger once the holiday ends on the last day of Islam’s ninth month: Eid al-Fitr on Aug. 31.
“Ramadan gives you peace and tranquility,’’ Akcin said. “Personal hostility is at a minimum.’’
Kadiatou Traore, a 21-year-old nursing student from the West African country of Mali, was among the first worshippers on the women’s side of the mosque, separated from the men by walls made of gauzy fabric.
She was looking forward to the holiday because of the fast, and because the community gathers each evening to pray and eat supper as one big family.
Seated on thick green carpeting, she explained that she grew up with a Christian mother and a Muslim father, explored both faiths, and ultimately chose Islam because “it makes me feel closer to God.’’
Ramadan “is good for my diet,’’ said Traore, who lost 20 pounds last year when she gave up fast food.
“It’s a time of change,’’ she said. “It makes me feel like I can do anything.’’
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