Reimagining Sacrifice — how do we approach the lessons of the Hajj?

 The 20th of July 2021, for most Muslims will be the celebration of the Feast (or Eid ul Adha) symbolizing the culmination of the pilgrimage by Muslims to Mecca (the Hajj is one of the five fundamental pillars of Islam). These few days of light and love characterise prayer, reflection, symbolize meditation, a return to the Creator and prayers for peace, for happiness, for justice.

The Hajj serves as a symbol of unity in diversity as Malcolm X wrote

“…we were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood…. I have never before seen sincere and true brotherhood practiced by all colours together, irrespective of their colour”.

It was on the day before the hajj, that the Prophet Muhammed (Peace be upon him — PBUH) gave his final sermon with an anti racist message:

“All humans are descended from Adam and Eve. There is no superiority of an Arab over a non-Arab, or of a non-Arab over an Arab, and no superiority of a white person over a black person or of a black person over a white person, except on the basis of personal piety and righteousness.”

It is this message which creates a moral and ethical mandate for Muslims to support anti racism and it is the impetus of this day that symbolizes the sacrifice and struggle that is needed to act on that mandate.

Thus the global Muslim community will join in solidarity with the select few who have had the privilege of actually performing the Hajj, the most spiritual of journeys, answering the invitation from God to visit His sacred house, in response to the prayers of Prophet Abraham and his son Prophet Ishmael (Peace Be Upon them Both), who built the Ka’abah (the House of God) and subsequently prayed to Him that His most beloved of followers (and believers) would come. In the Qur’an, God orders Abraham (Peace Be Upon Him — PBUH) “…proclaim the pilgrimage to humankind, they will respond, coming to the sacred house on foot, riding every possible conveyance coming from every distant path.” (22:27). Those who come for the pilgrimage proclaim ‘Labbaik Allahumma Labbaik — here I am at your service O Lord, here I am’.

Invitation from God

This is singularly one of the direct relationships between God and Human. You come purely for the purpose that you are invited by God and respond to the prayer of Prophet Abraham (PBUH). In this journey you enact an inter religious experience that was initiated by Prophet Abraham (PBUH) and his family. The hajj allows us to follow in the footsteps of his family, from the running of our mother Hajar (between the mounts of Safa and Marwa) — a reminder of a noble, lone, tired, exhausted black woman living as a single mother in the desert, without family, without support, without money, without water; to the recommended act of worship of performing a sacrifice of a sheep in remembrance of the proposed sacrifice of Abraham’s son.

As the main inspiration and father of the lines of Prophets that brought the three world religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, Eid ul Adha is not only significant for Muslims but is symbolic for Christians and Jews as well. The common grounds and the commonalities of the stories of ‘the leader of all mankind’ as God describes him in the Qur’an (2:124). Abraham (PBUH) was not only a ‘nation’ (16:120) by his own right, with his descendants including Isaac, Moses and Muhammed (Peace Be Upon Them All), he was also the ‘friend’ of God (4:125) due to his qualities of sacrifice, extraordinary faith, an uncompromising commitment to upholding the oneness of God and righteousness. This is in essence the core of the three Abrahamic religions that derive their ethics and qualities from these attributes that not only lays the foundation for inter-faith dialogue but for multi-faith action as the Qur’an says “Who could be of better faith than the one who surrenders utterly to God and is a doer of good and follows that faith of Abraham, the upright one?…” (4:125)

Abraham (PBUH) teaches us belief in the Divine, the one God, and urges the leading of an upright life. He fought against the idols of the day, the symbols that sought to destroy society and its natural inclination to God and Justice and when the time came was willing to sacrifice his son (who in the Islamic teachings consented after being consulted by his father) in a joint act of submission to God. The spirit of the sacrifice is what is discussed here and not the form. Whilst there is a dispute in the different Abrahamic teachings about the identity of the son who was supposed to be sacrificed (and how things actually transpired), there is a more fundamental lesson for us to learn and that is in the willingness to give up that which is dearest and closest to us; it is whether we have the resolve and willpower necessary to achieve the higher spiritual goals deemed of us, to make that sacrifice for something greater, to understand our journey back to the beginning, to understand the common and ancient origin of our human roots which is about the worship of the One Creator and the same reality of what this life means, what we have to do and where we will end up.

Equally the story of Hajjar should not be forgotten, of the single mother, cast aside or seeking to sacrifice familial ties for the sake of the protection of her baby, running here and there, searching to provide for her baby and having trust in God. This is a story to reflect on and ponder in the current age and speaks well to the lived experiences of many today and a reminder for us all to celebrate and contemplate.

How does it relate today?

In today’s context these lessons are even more poignant. Faced with the need to physically distance with COVID-19, we have learnt to ‘sacrifice’ those things that are close to us to survive. In many sad cases, we have had to sacrifice people for others. COVID-19 really has brought to reality the importance of the delicate balance that is necessary in human relationships to ensure respect, understanding and acceptance. The Abrahamic story of Sacrifice reminds us of this delicate balance and responsibility. It also reminds us of the need for mutual respect and sharing the burden of others, something that the pandemic has forced us to understand. We have been forced to re-evaluate what is important and who is important in our lives.

The story of the Sacrifice is about understanding that to achieve justice there is a price to pay. It tells us that through showing the ultimate sacrifice of a parent’s closest and beloved possession for the sake of the One to whom you will eventually return, we are taught that whatever we own and are close to, pales in comparison to the ultimate possession that we have: Our relationship with The One Most High. This is the lesson from the pandemic as well. This sacrifice coming at the end of the pilgrimage to Mecca is the very essence of the celebration. There is no gain without some pain, a poignant message in these times of easy satisfaction in 280 characters.

We are and need to be reminded to not only be thankful for all the blessings that we have, but to be content with them. We are asked to keep in check our greed as whatever excess; we share with those who deserve special attention — the poor and needy people, as well as the orphans. This is the true meaning of the sacrifice that we make so that those in need will benefit.

Thus, the Hajj represents a humbling spiritual journey; answering the invitation from God; that asks for God’s forgiveness, as the human being is stripped to its core representing the destruction of the inner demons and an equalization with one’s peers. It is a journey that represents the chance to be ‘reborn’, cleansed of the challenges of life, re-energized. It is a journey that takes one back to the essence of what creation and consequently life is about. It is about understanding the purpose of life’s journey and reorienting one’s compass.

Go; travel the world, look for the truth and the secret of life

The ultimate and most difficult lesson to learn on this journey is to understand our destination. For those of you who have read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the understanding of this destination is very simple: ‘Go; travel the world, look for the truth and the secret of life — every road will lead you to this sense of initiation: the secret is hidden in the place from which you set out’.

This is the apparent paradox of spiritual experience whereby the constant effort that we make to purify, to control and liberate our hearts is in the end, reconciliation with the deepest level of our being and the spark that the Creator breathed into our heart which is the spark (the fitra) of humility, the awareness of fragility, the consciousness of limitation, the shoulder of responsibility. The responsibility to live justly and fairly. It is a responsibility that connects to the ‘other’ as God reminds us that he ‘has made us into tribes and nations so that we may know each other’ (qur’an 49:13)

The hajj, and its symbolic teachings, should help us to identify with others in different ways which is important in our role of living in society. It should help us remember that we are much more than a label, that our plurality and diversity are not divisive elements but are a cause for celebration but within that celebration is an understanding of common humanity and universal principles. This is the call for unity of the Muslim community and wider society that is made during this blessed journey.

The Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) said “You shall not enter Paradise until you have faith, and you cannot have faith until you love one another. Have compassion on those you can see, and He Whom you cannot see will have compassion on you”. This is the Prophetic vision, fed down from Abraham (PBUH) which demonstrates how we must work, together, with others, with our neighbours. So, a world which makes sense, is a world in which we connect with other people, beyond our immediate communities and experience, and show them compassion and love.

Through Abraham’s progeny we are united by familial ties and the deep connection of our kinship. This shared human experience gives us the opportunity to remember our original spiritual substance and to realign our moral compass. We can either fight about our differences or remember that we are united in the singular conviction that Abraham (PBUH) held.

This is the shared message we share with our brothers and sisters of Abraham’s progeny and that is the message of the Hajj through the principle of the sacrifice: ‘to serve humanity, those in need; those without… To awaken your conscience in the proximity of the wounds and the injustices people face…To move away from your heart, your bad thoughts…To distance yourself from the darkest dimensions of your being, your violence, your jealousies, your superficialities’

Yet We have forgotten what the sacrifice is supposed to symbolize. The story and lesson of Prophets Ibrahim and Ismail, and Hajjar (Peace Be Upon Them) deserves to be shared, remembered, and celebrated. The conversation between father and son and of the single mother on this most hardest of scenarios bears serious contemplation. In the height of challenging circumstance, the consultation of a parent with his child and the firm but soft acceptance of a parent’s wish by a child highlights a dying relationship in the world today

In an age of commercialism, these lessons of the Hajj are lost amongst Muslims who settle more for the rituals and practices. Custom has transformed into duty and practice descend into commercialization and waste: waste of money; waste of meat; waste of food. A symbolic and recommended act of worship in remembrance of the Prophet Ibrahim’s (Peace be upon him) sacrifice becomes a literal obligation of animal sacrifice, so that the blood flows deep and the distribution of meat becomes the anchor for the duty. Yes, the poor, vulnerable and needy do not have meat, but no one stops to ask whether giving them meat for a day would help improve their lives or doing something else is needed. In today’s circumstances of poverty and need, and climate change, these questions of need and fit for purpose become ever more important In the essence of rushing to seek that instant satisfaction of redemption, we trivialize the essence of the need on the ground. Therein lies the problem. The closure of the space for reasoning, debate and rational thinking about faith, spirituality, and practice. By not allowing space for discussion to examine these ideas and principles, we negate the very concept of our heritage and teachings.

At the heart of our consumer society, where materialism and individualism drive our daily lives, the question of the sacrifice reinforces our personal effort and commitment and invites us towards the deep horizons of introspection and meaning. This in effect is the current analogy of what Abraham (PBUH) and Hajjar (PBUH) faced in terms of their fights. We have a fight against modern and post modern consumerism and narcissism that does not take into account the beauty of human nature or the crushing debt and poverty faced by millions around the world and we must be prepared to sacrifice all that is dear to us in order to fight it. The lessons of the covid-19 lockdown has reinforced that sense of going back to understanding what is really important for us.

The blessed feast of Eid ul Adha thus should not become a feast of food as it is now commonly practised but a feast of the faith of fraternal atmosphere that is shared with all brothers and sisters in faith and humanity. It should as we follow in the footsteps of Abraham (PBUH) become a rallying point to bring all members of his progeny together. Unfortunately, over the last decades, the concept of a fraternal atmosphere has been denigrated to a single notion within the mindset of the Muslim community, who have gradually entrenched themselves into an ideological box. This ideological comfort zone is an intellectual arrogance leading to an isolationist mentality and cultural ghetto, which world over, Muslim communities; especially those that live under minority situations, place themselves in. This isolationist mentality imbibes an ‘us’ vs ‘them’ attitude and has meant that the Muslim community has always been worried about ‘us’ rather than taking an all encompassing ‘we’. This assumption of singularity is the weapon of sectarian activists who want people to ignore all affiliation and loyalties in support of one specific identity. This is deeply delusive, divisive and is one that leads to social tension and violence for there is a sense of injustice and intolerance that is created from potential misunderstandings and misperceptions.

Thus there is a need to reimagine this concept and understanding of the sacrifice. To really understand that meaning of profound spirituality requires humans to acquire a force of being and doing, rather than to undergo despotic relentlessness of a life reduced to mere instinct. The concept of understanding sacrifice is to marry the purpose of our existence with the purpose of our subsistence.

That purpose is to follow Abraham’s footsteps and serve humanity, those in need; those without! That purpose is to awaken our conscience in the proximity of the wounds and the injustices people face! That purpose is to move away from selfishness / greed and waste; to distance ourselves from the darkest dimensions of our being, our violence, our jealousies, our superficialities. That purpose is to face our responsibilities with confidence and assurance.

To truly bask in the legacy of Abraham (PBUH), it is imperative not to lose our way by being driven blindly by traditional practices or by commercialization, and to come back to the very essence of the message of the respective faiths: respect and love of human beings (especially those who are vulnerable and have been unjustly treated) is a manifestation of the love for the Almighty..

So, let us come back to the essential. Let us remember that this celebration and feast, more than anything is a feast of fraternal atmosphere that is shared by all and thus in reaching out to address the true objective of spirituality through prayers and good deeds, let us remember the right that the poor have on us. Let us avoid the waste and more importantly the wasted sacrifices. Let us remember how to reach out to the ‘other’ from our shared heritage.

May the Almighty, who loves you, guide and protect you. May there be peace and respite for all those who are suffering. May you spend time with your loved ones in an atmosphere of happiness;

Eid Mubarak!!

this was originally published here

Ramadan Is a Chance to Reconcile Relationships

While much is made of the physical aspects around fasting during Ramadan, the holy month represents a spiritual space for remembering and reinforcing relationships. 

For many Muslims worldwide, May 17 marks the first day of Ramadan, the observance of abstaining from food, water and innate desires between sunrise and sunset. Muslims will faithfully observe this third fundamental pillar of Islam as ordained by God. Though much is made of the physical aspects around Ramadan, apart from the physical sacrifices and discipline the holy month brings with it, it also represents a spiritual space for remembering and reinforcing relationships.

We are invited to re-examine the relationship with ourselves. On the spiritual journey that each one of us undertakes, the most difficult lesson is to understand our destination. We all struggle with the destination, as well as the mode and speed of travel. However, for those of you who have read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the understanding of this destination is very simple: “Go; travel the world, look for the truth and the secret of life — every road will lead you to this sense of initiation: the secret is hidden in the place from which you set out.”

Thus the “secret” and the “destination” are hidden in the very place where you are. For many of us on this spiritual journey it is about seeking the one, the creator, the meaning of life. The secret is that what you seek is found only by rediscovering the essence of your own nature. The essence of your own nature is the return to oneself.

This is the apparent paradox of spiritual experience whereby the constant effort that we make to purify, to control and liberate our hearts is, in the end, a reconciliation with the deepest level of our being. That spark that the creator breathed into our heart — fitra in Arabic — is the spark of humility, the awareness of fragility, the consciousness of limitation, the shoulder of responsibility.

Developing this state is the very essence of Ramadan, something that is often missed in the superficial celebrations of this most blessed month. At the heart of our consumer society, where materialism and individualism drive our daily lives, the blessed month of Ramadan reinforces our personal effort and commitment, invites us toward the deep horizons of introspection and meaning, reminds us of silence, restraint and remembrance, and inculcates the importance of detail, precision, rigor and discipline of practice.

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with the creator. Fasting is in essence a deeply individual act: No one knows you are fasting except you and the creator, and it is easy to pretend on the outside that you are fasting. Hence its very act is about developing that personal connection with the creator. Through acts of worship during the blessed month, we take up a dialogue with God, a dialogue of intimacy, of sincerity, of love. This re-examination allows us to realize that we marry the purpose of our existence with the purpose of our subsistence, while nurturing the inspiration from the Quran that “God will not change anything for the good if you change nothing.”

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with our community. Ramadan is a feast of faith of fraternal atmosphere that is shared with all brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, over the last years, the concept of a fraternity has been denigrated to a single notion within the mindset of the Muslim community, which has gradually entrenched itself in an ideological box. This ideological comfort zone is an intellectual arrogance leading to an isolationist mentality and a cultural ghetto, into which Muslim communities around the world, especially those that live under minority situations, voluntarily lock themselves.

This isolationist mentality invites an “us” versus “them” attitude, meaning that the Muslim community has always been worried about “us” rather than taking an all encompassing “we.” The sense of community is reinforced with the fact that we all start and finish our fast together, while also choosing to pray together.

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with our society. Ramadan teaches us that we share the burdens of others, especially those less fortunate than us, and we remember our responsibilities toward them. The giving of charity is encouraged during this period as it is felt that rewards are doubled. Identifying with others in different ways is important in our role of living in society as founded upon a universal humanitarian principle based on the following verse from the holy Quran: “If anyone saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of all mankind.”

A world that makes sense is a world in which we connect with other people, often beyond our immediate communities and experience, and show them compassion and love. This is the ultimate aspect of building relationships as taught by Ramadan.

This originally appeared on Fair Observer

The Way Forward After Communal Violence in Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka needs a platform for genuine and objective discussion in the hope of moving forward and achieving reconciliation.

In Sri Lanka, the start of February was about celebration for the past 70 years of independence, but its end was about reflective contemplation over an uncertain future. Following a wave of anti-Muslim violence in the central district of Kandy, a nationwide state of emergency was declared on March 6 — and lifted on March 18 — the first time in seven years in a country with a history of civil war.

Amidst a curfew enforced in the central province, mobs comprising disaffected youth from the majority Sinhala community — often led by Buddhist monks and individuals linked to ultra-nationalist Sinhalese groups — attacked and destroyed premises belonging to the minority Muslim community. Businesses, homes and mosques were torched and looted.

The attacks were in apparent retaliation for the death of a Sinhalese driver after an altercation with drunken Muslim youth. Yet this was not a simple rise in anger symbolizing grassroots tensions between two communities. It was organized mob violence with a plan and strategy to target Sri Lankan Muslims, united on social media and fed with local intelligence about where they lived.

To some extent, the violence was not entirely unexpected. For many of us who have been working on post-conflict reconciliation in Sri Lanka and kept an eye on community relations, for a number of years there has been a feeling that although relative “calm” had descended on the island at the end of the decades-long civil war in 2009, this was just surface-led. It was inevitable that some sort of communal violence would return. After all, the conflict indicators showed that Sri Lanka faced trouble every 10 years after independence.

BEHIND THE VIOLENCE IN KANDY

For those of us who were tracking the rise of extreme nationalism and ethnic and religious hatred — being pushed by a small minority speaking on behalf of the majority Sinhala Buddhist community — the latest round of violence is a worrying sign of a link and trend of globalizing hatred and fragility.

Over the last 100 years, there have been at least six incidents of large-scale violence between the Sinhalese and Muslims in Sri Lanka. Today, the time between recent incidents has dropped (the previous flare ups happened within the last four years), and the rhetoric around sectarian violence has mirrored what is coming out of Myanmar with hardline Buddhists and the minority Rohingya.

It is in this light that Sri Lanka is seen through a singular lens of good vs evil, us vs them. This perpetuates deeply delusive and divisive assumptions of exclusive identities by these sectarian actors, who want people to ignore all affiliation and loyalties in support of one “religious” identity.

The violence of February comes on the back of what has been a relentless and sustained campaign of anti-Muslim rhetoric. This has involved public meetings, the distribution of pamphlets and the publishing of articles in mainstream Sinhala and English papers, which have borrowed rhetoric used globally to demonize and stereotype Muslims. In the face of “fake news,” the propagation of myths is wide and wild. For instance, the week preceding the flare up of violence in Kandy, a tense situation erupted in the east where Sinhalese had accused Muslims of serving them food with infertile pills. Such was the seriousness of the claim that the United Nations Population Fund, the World Health Organization, and the Government Medical Officers Association had to issue statements to refute this.

It would be naive to blame the violence just on faith. There are other factors that combine to make this flare up and its causes deep and problematic. The majority misperception is that Sri Lankan Muslims are successful businessmen and, therefore, economic interests mean there is an attempt to squeeze Muslims out of the market. From the halal boycott — a move by a hardline Sinhalese Buddhist group — to the extensive damage and looting that has been inflicted on businesses, it is clear that there was an economic dimension to the violence aimed at hitting the Muslim community.

There is also an attempt to decrease the visibility of Muslims. For hardline Sinhalese, Muslims are seen as a threat to Sinhala identity and ultimately Sri Lanka, which manifests itself in the rhetoric around dress codes — in particular what is deemed as Arab clothes such as the thawb for men or the abaya and niqab for women — and the attacks on mosques.

Government Response

What is ultimately surprising is not that these actions took place, but the silent complicity of the Sinhala majority. For a lot of us in Sri Lanka who grew up with people from other communities, what has been disconcerting (although there are exceptions to this) has been the silence of condemnation for violent actions by mainstream Sinhalese. This is by no means a generalization as there have been strong statements, including by Buddhist monks, condemning the violence.

However, the disappointment was the reaction of the government, who seemed to have been caught by surprise by the violence and struggled to contain it. Despite a curfew and social media censorship, in the initial phases of the violence the government appeared unable to mobilize law enforcement to act. Though a number of arrests were made and there have been strong statements issued, the Sri Lankan government struggled to ensure that the rule of law and justice had been followed. This perhaps remains the biggest disappointment for many who thought the government change in 2015 would bring about a shift in the narrative of racist, ethno-nationalist politics.

So, what needs to be done?

Clearly there is a lot to be done politically. The present government entered office on the agenda of good governance and equality, and it was largely supported by minority voters, including the Muslim community. There needs to be trust built once again with the government and between the government and Sri Lankan Muslims. In addition, however, there needs to be work done at the grassroots level. There is currently a lot to be done around improving social capital. Hence, a change of narrative and thinking has to be the order of the day on top of any structural alignments toward ensuring that such bouts of violence do not happen again. There also has to be a change of narrative about who Muslims are and where they belong in Sri Lanka.

DIVERSITY IN SRI LANKA

By hardline Sinhala Buddhists declaring Sri Lanka as a “Sinhala-only country,” those perpetrating this mindless rhetoric of Sinhala supremacism presuppose the acceptance of Sri Lanka as a land sacred to Buddhism and with Buddhists as its chosen people. According to this vision, minorities, including Sinhala Christians, are not co-owners or even guests (because guests have to be given certain privileges and rights). Rather, they are second-class serfs (untouchables) who should thank the benevolent majority for being given the chance to live there.

In so doing, this completely rewrites the rich history of a country whose mosaic is made up of different ethnicities, faiths and cultures. They have chosen to rewrite a history of the accumulation of unfinished business, the piling up of debts and the stacking up of fortunes and misfortunes. Whilst it is true that Sri Lanka is the only place in which there are Sinhalese and where the Sinhalese language is spoken, this does not equate to ownership of the island solely by one race or another, nor does it speak of the rich inter mingling of all races and faiths that influence much of Sri Lankan culture, food, art and music today. It also does a huge disservice to the Buddhist way of life, which is about peace, tranquility and tolerance of others. Declaring Sri Lanka as Buddhist does not preclude it from having minorities of other faiths and ethnicities coexisting with equal rights.

This change in narrative also has to start from the Muslim community itself. For years, we have claimed that Muslims arrived in Sri Lanka around 1,000 years ago. This simplifies a complex history of Islam coming through trade — mostly by Arabs — and of a rich history of engagement with local people. Islam came to Sri Lanka via traders who interacted with local communities. Thus, there is a mélange of identities, ethnicities and cultures that make up the Muslim community, not the homogeneous identities that both the Muslim community and those outside of it choose to define.

RECONCILIATION

The recent events are also a wake-up call to those who have been engaging in reconciliation work in Sri Lanka. For too long, there was a binary notion from the international community about the decades-long civil war being between two parties: the Sinhalese and the Tamil. Yet the history of the conflict is much more than that. Though not direct parties to the war, Sri Lankan Muslims suffered during the conflict, and it is important to note that for full reconciliation to take place, it needs to be holistic and comprehensive. This means everyone should be considered from all parts of Sri Lanka. Reconciliation is not about north and south.

The violence in Kandy shows that a lot more needs to be done at the grassroots level. It is fine to talk about political solutions, but if people at the grassroots still do not trust or know each other, then political solutions will just be a band-aid to a deep burn. The vitriolic rhetoric that has been spread is testimony to the fact that we need to start once again from scratch in developing a discussion that is not only top-down, but bottom-up too. There needs to be parallel efforts to build trust between people and communities through multi-faith interactions and crossing ethnic divides.

This is the role that civil society and, in particular, religious leaders should be playing in order to bring out about reconciliation. The aim should be to rebuild trust through reducing suspicion and infusing human values, with an understanding of the need to move away from apportioning blame for deceit and destruction. Trust can only be rebuilt when a space is created for effective dialogue and understanding. This space is one that starts at local levels with community organizations, leaders and intellectuals. It is not the sole responsibility of the political establishment, but of everyone interested in this endeavor.

Rebuilding trust is about honoring unity and celebrating diversity, working toward equity and justice, and ensuring the eradication of social prejudices in building a collective identity. We cannot abrogate our individual responsibilities in this task. The simple question to ask ourselves is: How much do we know of and understand our friends/colleagues who come from a different faith and ethnicity? By knowing, understanding and respecting each other’s faith and community, we move from just tolerance to acceptance. These are the first signs of a mature, diverse society and democracy. It is the first part in accepting the social contract of citizenship of a nation.

Solutions are needed for the restitution of a fractured polity, which involves a healthy acceptance of minorities. Hence, there must be legal and constitutional structures that not only guarantee equal rights for citizens and freedom of religion, but also legislates against incitement for racial and religious hatred and discrimination. No one argues about removing the privileged place of Buddhism in Sri Lanka or doing away with rights of the majority. But it is expected that the spirit of Buddhism has to ensure tolerance and respect for others, and with legal safeguards in place to enforce this.

Sri Lanka is at a crossroads of uncertainty, with bitter interethnic rivalries fanned by divisive politics. Constitutional amendments and projected development, however, are not enough to make hearts forgive and forget. Sri Lanka needs a platform for genuine and objective discussion in the hope of moving forward and achieving reconciliation. This has to start at the grassroots and involve all aspects of society. Reconciliation has to ultimately work through the hearts of individuals who harbor pain from the long years of their inability to meet basic human aspirations or from the loss of loved ones and properties as they became innocent victims of calculated and indiscriminate violence between fighting forces.

We are nearly 35 years on from the horrible riots of July 1983 that sent the country down a treacherous path, because it is exactly the same scenario where anti-Tamil propaganda was pumped over in the years. We are also 103 years on from the first Sinhala-Muslim riots and violence that took place in exactly the same place: Kandy. Despite the multiple incidents of anti-Muslim violence that have occurred since 1915 without any such armed reaction from the community, lessons should be taken from history in terms of the ramifications of not addressing the causes of conflict.

If we want to aspire to tackle the root causes of the ethnic and racist rhetoric and violence, then the challenge is to actually learn from what has happened in order to have a county that respects its diversity and is united in its principles and values that are influenced by Buddhism. Otherwise, we condemn future generations to the vicious cycle of hatred, intolerance and violence that will destroy Sri Lanka, not unite it.

This originally appeared in Fair Observer

Ramadan – A lesson in Reconciling Relationships

For many Muslims worldwide, the 6th of June marks the first day of Ramadan, the observance of the fasting (from food, water and innate desires) between sunrise and sunset.  Muslims will faithfully observe this third fundamental pillar of Islam as has been ordained by God.  Yet apart from the physical sacrifices and discipline that Ramadan brings about, it also represents a spiritual space for remembering and reinforcing relationships.

Ultimately Ramadan represents the reinforcing of relationships.

We are invited to re-examine the relationship with ourselves.  On the spiritual journey that we each undertake, the most difficult lessons is to understand our destination. For those of you who have read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the understanding of this destination is very simple: ‘Go; travel the world, look for the truth and the secret of life – every road will lead you to this sense of initiation: the secret is hidden in the place from which you set out’.  Thus you find God only by rediscovering the essence of your own nature. The essence of your own nature is the ‘return to oneself’.

This is the apparent paradox of spiritual experience whereby the constant effort that we make to purify, to control and liberate our hearts is in the end, reconciliation with the deepest level of our being.  That spark that the Creator breathed into our heart (the fitra) is the spark of humility, the awareness of fragility, the consciousness of limitation, the shoulder of responsibility.

To develop this state is the very essence of Ramadan, something that is often missed in the superficial celebrations of this most blessed month. At the heart of our consumer society, where materialism and individualism drive our daily lives, this Blessed Month of Ramadan reinforces our personal effort and commitment, invites us towards the deep horizons of introspection and meaning, reminds us of silence, restraint and remembrance, and inculcates the importance of detail, precision, rigor and discipline of practice.

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with the Creator.  Through acts of worship during the Blessed Month we  take up a dialogue with The Most-High and The Most-Close, a dialogue of intimacy, of sincerity, of love. This re-examination allows us to realize that we marry the purpose of our existence with the purpose of our subsistence, whilst nurturing the inspiration from the Qur’an that ‘God will not change anything for the good if you change nothing’!

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with our community.  Ramadan is a feast of the faith of fraternal atmosphere that is shared with all brothers and sisters. Unfortunately, over the last couple of years, the concept of a fraternal atmosphere has been denigrated to a single notion within the mindset of the Muslim community, who have gradually entrenched themselves into an ideological box.  This ideological comfort zone is an intellectual arrogance leading to an isolationist mentality and cultural ghetto, which world over, Muslim communities; especially those that live under minority situations, place themselves in.  This isolationist mentality invites an ‘us’ vs ‘them’ attitude and has meant that the Muslim community has always been worried about ‘us’ rather than taking an all encompassing ‘we’.

We are invited to re-examine our relationship with our society. Ramadan teaches us that we share the burdens of others (especially those less fortunate than us) and we remember our responsibilities towards them.  Identifying with others in different ways is important in our role of living in society as founded upon a universal humanitarian principle based on the following verse from the Holy Qur’an “…If anyone saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of all mankind…” (Q5:32).

So a world which makes sense, is a world in which we connect with other people, often beyond our immediate communities and experience, and show them compassion and love.   This is the ultimate aspect of the relationship building as inculcated by Ramadan.

This originally appeared on States of Formation

The Role of Islamic Social Financing in Humanitarian Action

The recent Briefing Paper from Global Humanitarian Assistance 'An Act of Faith: Is Islamic charitable giving a promising new resource for future humanitarian assistance?' makes for interesting and pertinent reading. The very nature of the question that it asks points to a paradigm shift in thinking with regards not only to fundraising for humanitarian causes but ultimately program implementation as well. The former to some extent determines the latter in terms of resource allocation and implementation.

We are all too aware of the number and scale of humanitarian crises facing our world today, not least in Syria where an estimated 220,000 people have died in the four year conflict at a rate of more than one death every ten minutes and now in Yemen. These spiralling needs mean we also have a record shortfall in assistance with US$7.5billion of humanitarian funding requirements going unmet last year. More than ever, humanitarians are having to start thinking creatively about how humanitarian assistance is raised, processed and used.

One thinking that has emerged over the last few years has been the potential for Islamic Social financing led by zakat. Islamic financing is a surprisingly underexplored territory. Surprising because previous estimates suggest that anywhere between US$200 billion and US$1 trillion is spent in the form of Islamic charitable giving (zakat) across the Muslim world each year, and the Global Humanitarian Assistance (GHA) programme's research published today indicates that this area of finance is potentially in the hundreds of billions of dollars, with a significant proportion already going on humanitarian efforts.

These numbers speak not only to the duality of increasing religiosity and wealth in the Muslim world, but also the globalisation of increasing poverty made more immediate through social media. It is estimated that ¼ of the Muslim world is living on less than $1.25 a day (calculated by IRIN based on 2011 HDI) with new spaces opening up in the Muslim world such as Somalia, Syria, Mali (and so on) for humanitarian and peace-building responses.

The concept of charity is central to social justice, which is a sacred value in Islam and a central tenet of the faith. Indeed the Qur'an considers an act of charity as more than just a good deed because of its function in balancing social inequalities. The Qur'an also has numerous references to the importance of creating a just society and provides a framework for justice in inter-personal relationships, toward the poor and needy, and connections between communities and nations.

Zakat, the mandatory Muslim practice of giving 2.5% of one's accumulated wealth for charitable purposes every year, is one of the main tools of Islamic social financing. It is explicitly intended to reduce inequality and is widely used in Muslim countries to fund domestic development and poverty-reduction efforts. There are clear parallels to be drawn between the eight individual categories of eligible recipients of Zakat listed in the Qur'an and people in need of humanitarian assistance.

The GHA findings show that it is currently impossible to accurately find out how much zakat is being collected globally, where it is being spent, and what opportunities it could present for the humanitarian world. With estimates ranging from the tens to hundreds of billions of dollars, and only a handful of countries formally reporting a proportion of the zakat that is given by their populations, there is a lot of work to do.

However the World Humanitarian Summit does offer an opportunity to take on the challenges to discuss as it strives to seek alternate sources of funding. Islamic Social Finance contributions have to be part of the discussions of humanitarian funding going forward. The task for the WHS is to offer models of operation and partnership.

(this was originally published here for the World Humanitarian Summit)

This originally appeared on Huffington Post

An Islamic Perspective on Refugees

The crisis of the Rohingya refugees in the Andaman sea with at least three Muslim countries refusing them support, has prompted many to pose the question as to the treatment of refugees from an Islamic perspective.  There is surprisingly very little work that has been done on this basis, the most notable recently being done by Islamic Relief.

The lack of work is not because of a lack of treatment within the faith teachings or principles on the subject.  In fact an examination of Islamic precepts reveals the falsity of such allegations, especially with regard to refugees and asylum.  The lack of mechanisms is more to do with the lack of understanding on these issues and lack of scholarly work on the role of Islam in issues of asylum and refugees.

In Islam, asylum is a right of anyone seeking protection. In studies of asylum in the Arab- Islamic tradition,  scholars argue that asylum "is an integral part of the islamic  [sic] conception of human rights".    Islam's most important scripture, the Qur'an, speaks explicitly about the issue of asylum seekers and refugees: "And if anyone of the disbelievers seeks your protection, then grant him protection so that he may hear the word of Allah, and then escort him to where he will be secure" (Surah 9:6)

In particular, there are two major incidents in the early days of Islam which bear testimony to Islam's response to a climate of hostility and persecution through migration.  The first is the emigration in 615AD to Abyssinia by a small group of Muslims who found  asylum under the rule and protection of the Christian King.  The second is in 662 AD, when Prophet Muhammad fled persecution in Mecca and sought refuge in Medina. This hijrah, or migration, came to symbolize the movement of Muslims from lands of oppression to those of Islam. It is a term that along with its derivatives is mentioned 27 times in the Qur'an.

Thus the concept of asylum within Islam is based on a spiritual principle imposed by the will of God, which means that there are moral, religious and legal obligations (especially with reference to the Qur'an and Hadith) as well.  Hence from an Islamic view point, the exacting rules of human conduct are recognised as positive divine law, which that  for a believer - whether an individual or a ruler - asylum is "a right and a duty".  Consequently a refusal to grant asylum will not only entail dishonor and contempt but also the violation of an oath.  In other words, since asylum is mentioned in the Qur'an, it becomes a sacred duty, the breach of which "constitutes a challenge to the will of God.  The result is that asylum constitutes both a subjective right for the individual and an obligation of the community"

Islam obliges host societies to give asylum-seekers a generous reception, for which the hosts will be rewarded as it is said in the  Qur'an: "He that flees his homeland in the way of God, shall find numerous places of refuge in the land and abundant resources" (4:100).  Islamic law or  Shariah   also affirms the practice of providing sanctuary to persecuted persons  and the sacredness of some places, such as the Kaaba in Mecca. However, asylum according to Shariah law is not confined only to sacred places - it is also granted to certain urban areas such as homes and designated communal places under the protection of Islam.  At the heart of this obligation to protect asylum seekers is the verse in the Qur'an:

 "... the men who stayed in their own city ... love those who have sought refuge with them; they do not covet what they are given, but rather prize them above themselves, though they are in want." (Surah 59:9)

In particular, once asylum is granted protection, assistance offered to forced migrants cannot be resented, and hosting communities are obliged to privilege the needs of forced migrants above those of their own, even where they themselves are in need of protection and assistance.

However, despite its significance in Islam, hijrah is rarely invoked by Muslim states today. In fact from a shariah perspective, there is no comprehensive legal system for the protection of refugees or displaced people at least according to current understandings of protection.  Hence this tends to nullify the obligation of Islamic states to provide asylum according to the shariah.

Wider thinking on this issue and the promotion of 'Islamic understandings' of refugees  and how they are to be treated could encourage Muslim states to widen their acceptance and protection of Muslim refugees.  This is the obligation for the future to avoid future scenarios such as that faced by the Rohingyas.

Tsunami 10 - A Missed Opportunity for Sri Lanka

Hypocrates once said that "healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity". Thus in tragedy there should be an opportunity to heal. In an ideal world a ten year reflection on the tsunami in Sri Lanka would wax lyrical about the developments of the country. Much would be written as to how the doors that were opened between faith and ethnic communities in the first few days after the tsunami would become opportunities to forge peace in a conflict affected land.

However like in many things in life, the aspirational is far removed from the functional. It is now 10 years since that fateful day of the 26th of December 2004 when the lives of many would be turned upside down forever by the Asian Tsunami. Sri Lanka was the second country next to Aceh in Indonesia to be severely destroyed by the tsunami and like Indonesia was in the midst of a floundering peace process. In the lead up to the 10 year anniversary there is much to reflect on. What worked; what didn't work; where could we have done better?

In the initial stages of the tsunami rehabilitation and reconstruction, Sri Lanka was well ahead of the game. Somehow though a mere 18 months later, the post tsunami reconstruction would grind to a halt as the machinery for conflict started to be ramped up which would end with the much publicised end of the conflict in 2009, whilst in Aceh, a peace process would ensure some political and security stability in a post tsunami reconstruction era.

In 2005, Bill Clinton coined the phrase 'Build Back Better' to describe what should happen in the aftermath of the tsunami. The tsunami was a turning point for Sri Lanka in terms of how it looked at itself and the rest of the world. However ten years on, the aftermath is perhaps not as rosy as we think it is. Despite the tremendous amounts of money that was generated for the victims, it is still disheartening to hear of tsunami survivors who ten years on are still waiting for help. In cases where entire villages were built by well-meaning NGOs, many of these have either been abandoned at worst or been neglected by local councils. There has to be greater local ownership and consultation so that $1000 apartments are not built for people accustomed to living in $20 tin shacks (only for the recipients to sell the apartments to property developers). There also has to be greater sensitivity to local contexts such that income streams are not inflated by NGOs providing jobs for the locals causing further problems later on, such as people being virtually unemployable because of the high salaries commanded, when the NGOs left. These are indeed pointers that the international humanitarian system has to think about. In the run up to the World Humanitarian Summit, it would do well to really commission a study of what worked and didn't work in terms of humanitarian work vis-à-vis the financing.

10 years on in Sri Lanka, we are once again gripped in a political upheaval in the middle of a presidential election that no one wants, facing an uncertain future that no one will dare speculate about. This is in spite of the end of the conflict in 2009 and numerous development achievements, all which took place despite the tsunami. Thus what should be a very sombre pause for reflection about the greatest natural disaster to strike Sri Lanka, has been relegated to the side lines of election campaigns and rhetoric in the midst of flooding caused by rains. Though there will be prayers held in various faith institutions around the country, along with safety drills, the value of really honouring those who perished (and subsequently survived) will not take place nor will some of the more truer lessons of the tsunami for Sri Lanka be understood or argued. This is sad because at this moment of time, what is needed is for Sri Lanka to rediscover that spirit and ethos that guided the initial post tsunami response as it still grapples with the post conflict transition amidst serious questions being asked about its governance and political future.

That spirit and ethos is represented by the outpouring of grief and support for the victims and survivors of the tsunami in the immediate aftermath of the tsunami before the government and international institutions started their response. For a brief moment, people forgot the divisions that separated them and concentrated more on what could unite them. For a brief period, regardless of what faith and ethnicity you were, what mattered most was that you were Sri Lankan. The post tsunami response before responsibility was abrogated to the government and the international community represents the single most opportune moment that Sri Lankans (of all ethnicities and faith) came together to help one another in the rebuilding. This for me represents the single most vital lesson of the tsunami. We were shown the value and vulnerability of life. Yet the tragedy of this lesson, is that we quickly forgot this and did not capitalise on it. We did not build the relationships that we once cultivated in those dark times, nor did we go out of the way to forge new ones. As quickly as we responded, we retreated into our silos. Consequently Sri Lankans remain as polarised as ever and in a post conflict setting with a new focus for peace, the minorities in particular feel disenfranchised and disempowered.

Whilst many will blame the political context and will of the day (which of course has a lot to answer for in setting the context), we can not shirk away from our personal responsibilities in allowing the state of affairs to arrive to the crunch that they are in Sri Lanka. Our personal relationships with and between different communities has much to say for how we value life as taught to us by the tsunami.

10 years on, there is a missed opportunity to reflect on from the tsunami which is the missed opportunity for people to build relationships with each other that could transcend political and religious biases. If anything, the election serves as an unwarranted distraction and the tsunami commemoration is relegated to a bystander at worst, unwilling participant in a race to gather votes.

10 years on, we should be reflecting on how we can once again build the relationships. This is vital for the country to move forward otherwise those that lost their lives in that terrible natural disaster and since then, would have lost it in vain

this originally appeared on Huffington Post

Listening To Her Stories

This weekend will commemorate 5 years of the end of the bloody conflict in Sri Lanka.  As has become customary, the main protagonists and/or their supporters will be marking it in very different but usual manners.  There is still a lot of debate as to how Sri Lanka and Sri Lankans mark the conclusion of one of the most traumatic periods of their history.  The whole aspect of the war in its entirety remains a largely controversial subject and is often a subject that is not necessarily discussed in gatherings.  This perhaps alludes to how the subject needs to be approached and also what is the perception of those bold enough to approach the subject.  Thus Sri Lankans are not afforded and do not afford themselves of an opportunity for healing and to some extent, this responsibility seems to be abrogated to the powers that be.  The challenges of how the country as a whole understands and remembers this is still being debated, as the National Peace Council  aptly put it, ‘No wise country celebrates war victory after a civil war’.  This thus remains an obstacle that all communities and stakeholders with an interest for the benefit of Sri Lanka, need to understand and overcome.  Whilst the past can’t be a ball and chain for the future, we also need to understand it in order for us to move forward without.

In the deliberations and commemorations that will follow this weekend, one thing that will be conspicuous by its absence will be the voices from the ground.  Over the last 5 years, what has always struck me about the narrative that has been currently spun by all sides when discussing the war and commemorating it, is how far removed it is from the reality on the ground.  There is much to be reflected at the top end of the spectrum in terms of reconciliation and moving forward.  Equally though, it is not just at the top level that work needs to be done.  It is important that work is done at the grass roots level.  Unfortunately experience shows that it is hardly the case that grass roots are engaged with meaningfully.  They are talked at, talked to and talked with.  However rarely are they just allowed to talk and for the rest of us just to listen.  My experience in Sri Lanka especially during the end of the war in the camps in Manik Farm, allowed me to listen to many of the Tamil refugees.  Their message resonated with others I met with from other communities across the country, affected by the tsunami and the conflict.  While political and military solutions may bring an absence of war, however peace cannot come about or be sustained without significant engagements of all strata of society with tangible benefit being seen by everyone, in particular the  affected communities. In other words, ‘peace’ means nothing if parents still cannot feed their family or cannot afford to buy medicines for their sick children or people do not live in an atmosphere of respect and understanding with the rule of law.

The issue of conflict and the narratives spun around it at the macro level often means that that we forget these micro voices.  We do not see the broken families that have to pick up the pieces of lost childhood and parentless generations.  The narratives do not consider the societal breakdown in communities from all sides dealing with the stresses and trauma of post conflict be it alcoholism; drug abuse; domestic and sexual violence.  These lesser heard voices unfortunately do not grace the annals of heroism or martyrdom that make up the commemoration of the conflict and its end.

However it is in these lesser heard voices far away from the posturing and political platitudes that the real story of the conflict and its consequences for the country and its people are told and have to be understood. These stories explain the real sacrifice that has been made in the villages across Sri Lanka.  As in any conflict, it is the women and children who sacrifice and suffer the most but yet are seldom heard.  It is their stories that we need to commemorate and celebrate.

To my mind, there is none that does this well than the Her Stories LK project. I came across this at the opening of its exhibition in London in March.  It is simply a platform that allows the simple and sad stories of Sri Lankan women who have suffered from the conflict to be told. The stories are from all parts of Sri Lanka and comprises of stories from Tamils, Muslims and Sinhalese women that include soldiers’ wives and mothers as well as mothers and wives of Tiger cadres.  This means that the project aims to be as balanced as possible.  It doesn’t take any sides nor does it make any political statements.  Nor do they choose to criticise or lament larger political issues.

However in providing that opportunity for the lesser heard voices to be heard, it makes a statement.  Simply put, ‘war ultimately is about the people on the ground who suffer for the actions of their representatives and hence the post conflict should also be about the same people’.  By humanising the conflict through the individual stories that are exhibited, what we are reminded off is that whilst we may posture and pontificate our various positions, ultimately it is the people at the ground that will suffer the consequences with generational ramifications and it is these people who should be the first priority in any post conflict work.   This is the challenge facing Sri Lanka now.

Remarkably though, looking at the stories, you are struck by the humanity that is shown in the desire for a just and peaceful future.  The views show a shared history and a shared hope for the future.  There is no sense of recrimination or revenge, but just a quiet noble desire to move ahead and provide a better future for their children.  In these stories are lessons that many of us working on these issues need to be taught or at least reminded of.

The narrative of women is often lost in conflict and is virtually nonexistent for mothers.  Yet as guardians of memory through stories and pictures and gatekeepers to the next generations, Her Stories LK provide a vital glimpse into what Sri Lanka could look like.  When you hear this phrase “We are Brothers and Sisters from one mother” repeated across the country, you understand, that if these people who have every reason to be hateful and vindictive having lived through the conflict, can be hopeful, then the rest of us perhaps need to listen more.

Her Voices LK offers a space for many of us living comfortably outside Sri Lanka, untouched by the harsh realities on the ground and unscathed by the conflicts that were fought, to actually come to some platform of commonality.  Many of us living outside Sri Lanka,  have taken our own positions in this debate against the ‘other’, yet very few of us understand who the ‘other’ is and what their expectations are.  We are quick to judge and dismiss. This space shows us the true expectations for the country and its next generations as told to us in the stories of our mothers and it is vital that we who live abroad are able to take some time to listen to these stories.  Yes the stories are sad, but they are also full of strength, resilience and hope.  Ultimately it is about just wanting to live their lives and make it better for their children.  This is something that we need to think about.

Her Stories LK will be exhibiting their work at the Oval from the 17th – 19th May, in the run up to the T20 match between Sri Lanka and England.  Given the significance of the 18th of May which is the official end of the conflict in Sri Lanka when normally emotions run high especially in the wake of a visiting Sri Lankan cricket team, the exhibition offers an opportunity to pause and reflect.  For those intending to protest against the team or against the protesters, it also offers an opportunity to hear first hand of the conflict and the struggle to record eye witness accounts.  It is serendipitous that a week after Mother’s day, we are hearing the real voices of mothers affected by the conflict in Sri Lanka.  To be true to the concept of peace, equality and justice in Sri Lanka, the least we can do is at least pause and use the opportunity to listen to ‘Her Stories’.  Ultimately it might help us to reflect on what the greater good is for the country.

this orignially appeared here