Connection through Prayer

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Learning

A friend asked me at a gathering yesterday: “what are you doing to recharge?” I looked back at her blankly. “like what are you doing to get yourself through these times” she pressed. I kept staring back. “Uuuuhhh … nothing really” I responded. I searched her face wondering why she thought I would have had some sort of profound answer. “Nothing really”, I said doubling down. Then, “maybe exercising …” The conversation turned to the benefits of a daily walk and fresh air, and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. “I need to walk everyday” we both agreed.

I knew what I wished my answer was, and maybe what she wished too: prayer, prayer through the night, duaa during prayer, extra units of prayer, prayer in a group; some form of prayer, any form of prayer. But I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t even allude to it. I wanted to say something preachy like: I know prayer can be really helpful, or so and so said she is praying at night, but I held my tongue. Who am I to call to prayer, when I have been so avoidant. “Don’t be a farce”, I scolded myself.

In chapter 94, Asharh, Allah advises the Prophet to turn to prayer when he has ’emptied out’, seeming to say, when life and its people will drain you, turn to me so I can fill you up again. Why can’t I have that, I thought when I was listening to this description of the chapter. Why can’t I recharge through my prayer instead of ignoring it or worse yet, holding it in resentment.

Not Wanting to Try

You would think, as someone who has gone so far as to start a blog about prayer, I would be really motivated to work on my prayers consistently and passionately. In reality though, I often find myself resisting. I spend weeks just going through the motions of prayer without much thought. I will get a nagging feeling that I’m disregarding my prayers but I will often push that feeling away. A part of me admits: I don’t want to try. It feels easier not to try. It feels easier to forget about prayers all together. It’s easier not to hope that they’ll get better and to hope instead that I’ll just get “points for attendance”.

The heart of Chapter 101: Al’adiyat, reads:


إِنَّ ٱلْإِنسَـٰنَ لِرَبِّهِۦ لَكَنُودٌۭ (٦) وَإِنَّهُۥ عَلَىٰ ذَٰلِكَ لَشَهِيدٌۭ (٧)

indeed, man is certainly ungrateful to his Lord; (6) and indeed, he certainly bears witness to that; (7)

Al’Adiyat 100:6-7

The word in Arabic that is translated as ‘ungrateful’ has a connotation beyond ingratitude. It also implies a feeling of wanting to ignore. Man wants to forget about his Caretaker and push the thought of Him out of his mind. God even goes on to point out that we know this about ourselves. We know that we want to deny God and run away from thinking about Him. God knows, and we know, that we want to ‘not try’

Pray For Palestine

Pray, not because it’s all you can do, but because it’s the best thing you can do.

New Battle Tactics

Summer has come and gone, and now down to the last few drops, and I can say that my battle with fajr is hardly won. I can’t say its lost either, but somehow were at a standstill. Maybe it’s wrong to talk about fajr like this, maybe that’s the whole problem: that I see it like an enemy rather than a savior. No matter, still we have a long way to go.

I have constantly struggled with fajr. It’s tested me and broken me. It’s pushed me more than most other religious rituals. Here’s the beginning of a post I started in the midst of a bout of failure this summer:

It’s summertime here and with it the feelings of shame and despondency wash anew. I’ve been here before and I will probably be here again but that only makes it more bitter. The problem is, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to make myself believe that I am committed enough to make fajr prayer on time. Every morning that I snooze my alarm, I am reminded that I don’t have it in me.

It being The Faith.

The faith that all my fellow congregants seem to have. That I am met with all around at friday prayers or in Quran study circles. All these believers with all their awe inspiring faith. A faith that wells up inside them and pushes their sails forward. Upward and onward. While I sit here, flailing, floundering, and sinking.

To be honest, I think I never really had it. In my years when I would consistently offer fajr prayer on time, I truly believe that it was out of a sense of discipline and correctness more than anything. I hardly remember a deeply gratifying morning prayer. I can say with confidence that fajr was and is the least spiritually involved prayer that I offer. If not offered in a daze, it is offered in a hurriedness. Really, the best ones, if we can really use best here, have been the ones I’ve prayed late and have been filled with shame and remorse standing there before God.

Sometimes I tell myself, that’s it. That shame and sadness is part of why this is God’s plan for you. He offers you more feeling and connection, even though it’s not ‘correct’. But that only feels like a half answer. God could offer me anything in any way. He doesn’t need me to wake up late to give me connection in prayer. There is a shortcoming on my part that has not allowed me to transcend to the next level. I feel stuck repeating the same mistakes over and over; I can never overcome.

So how can I make myself believe? If I have no action to inspire faith, and no faith to inspire action, where do I even begin?

It’s Not You, It’s Satan

There is an interaction that happened with the Prophet ﷺ which I’ve found very inspiring: 

Uthman b. Abu al-‘As reported that he came to Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) and said:

Allah’s Messenger, the Satan intervenes between me and my prayer and my reciting of the Qur’an and he confounds me. Thereupon Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said:, That is (the doing of a) Satan (devil) who is known as Khinzab, and when you perceive its effect, seek refuge with Allah from it and spit three times to your left. I did that and Allah dispelled that from me.

(Sahih Muslim: 2203a)

It may seem simple, but really, it’s so profound. When this man came to the Prophet ﷺ, the Prophet could have answered in so many ways. He could have advised him on clearing his prayer space to avoid distraction. He could have suggested getting more in the zone during wudu. He could have encouraged some time remembering Allah beforehand, to enhance focus. But the Prophet ﷺ chose to say, it’s not you, it’s Shaitan, just blow him away. 

How many times have you struggled with some part of yourself? Are you a Debbie downer? Always lose your keys? Can’t keep a secret? How many times have you kicked yourself over the fact that you can’t seem to overcome your bad habits? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I change? Why can’t I get better?

Praying Behind an Imam


I have always been taught the value and importance of jama (collective) prayer. Praying in congregation not only offers more rewards in your personal scale, but also it helps to bind communities by providing an anchoring ritual for all to partake in. As such, I’ve always considered praying in a group more beneficial than praying by myself. This reflection period however, has brought to light some deep issues I have when I pray in jama behind an Imam.

From delaying the prayer to daydreaming more, overall, I can say that if I’m praying behind an Imam, my prayer is of less quality. I was thinking about why this is and I realized that mostly, this has to do with my attitude towards the prayer when behind someone. It’s the attitude of passivity. It’s as if, because I am removed from the responsibility of organizing the physical elements of the prayer, I feel I can wash my hands of engaging in the prayer at all. I rest the entire prayer, both it’s external motions and the spiritual effects it’s meant to produce, on the shoulders of the one leading the prayer. Subhan Allah! This is crazy!! What’s more is that I have been doing this for years!!

Let me draw a parallel here to further bare how convoluted this way of thinking is …

a holy place: meandering thoughts on the earthly meanings of prayer

At my kids’ school, they sing a soulful song which repeats:

This pretty planet spinning through space,
You’re a garden, you’re a harbor,
You’re a holy place …

When I first heard my kids singing these lyrics, I had a knee jerk reaction: A holy place?!! 

Isn’t that blasphemous? … Why are they saying the earth is holy?? … How could that be? … Isn’t the earth a place of temporal desires and unlimited distraction? … Isn’t its beauty just a means of forgetting that heavenly place of holiness?? 

But then after my fears settled, my mind started to turn in so many directions … 

Why Not? 

1.

There are many origin stories the world over that try to get at how it is that we humans ended up here on this earth. How did this place become our home? For us as believers in the message of the Quran, the story of Adam is (re)told. The earth was the place Adam was meant for and sent to. Before even creating Adam, Allah told the angels that He was going to create a successor for the earth1see the story of Adam in the second chapter of the Quran titled ‘The Cow’, verses 30-38. Yes, man was a creature created outside of the earth, but simultaneously made from earth stuff, for residence and growth on earth. Initially man resided in the peaceful heavens, but was not meant for it (at least not yet). There is something important about our being on earth specifically, that Allah chose it for us. 

2.

I remembered a saying of the Prophet ﷺ where he likens the earth to a masjid. He says: ‘The earth has been made for me a place of prostration and a means of purification, so wherever a man of my Ummah is when the time for prayer comes, let him pray”2Sunnan Annasai 736. If one were to claim a place as holy on this earth, surely it would be a masjid – a place dedicated to remembrance of and longing for Allah. Yet, the Prophet ﷺ seems to reeducate us. The earth in its entirety is a place to bask in the remembrance of Allah and reach out to Him. It is the place that Allah has chosen for us to know Him, to prove our devotion to Him, and to rise in ranks closer and closer to Him.

Fajr Prayer as an Act of Faith

I struggle with fajr prayer. I really struggle. I’ve been at an around 20% success rate. I even tried writing an ‘Around the Web’ article just to help motivate me, but I can’t seem to conquer the struggle. Summer times are usually the worst because fajr is so early and I sleep late, but there have been years where I’ve been a lot more successful than I am these days. Winters are better because I can just get up and start my day and get my prayer in on time – but that mostly just feels like cheating. It doesn’t really feel like I’m offering a sacrifice for the sake of meeting someone I love, or at the very least fulfilling His expectations. I hate to say it, but it feels like I’m at an all-time low and I’m starting to doubt I can ever climb back up. 

Why is this the case? Why am I struggling so much?? 

I’m not a heavy sleeper. I toss and turn through the night. I even sometimes get up to pray a night prayer and then miss fajr. It makes no sense and I feel very ashamed about it. Especially as someone who is dedicating their time to thinking and writing about how to connect to God more through my prayer, it doesn’t seem appropriate that I would be missing the time window for the first prayer of the day. This is a basic component of having a successful prayer life and I can’t even get it down. What’s even more is that I don’t even feel guilty about it like I used to. When I was younger, if I missed fajr I would wake up in such a fright and I would rush to fulfill the prayer right away. I would just feel so disappointed. Now it’s become so much more commonplace that that sadness has dulled and even when I miss the prayer, I get up slowly and go about my regular morning routine and then pray. Actually, even when I get up with enough time to pray within the window, I sort of drag my feet, daring myself to miss the prayer. 

What is going on?!

A lot of the advice that I’ve found on the internet or from people in my life argues that missing fajr is just a symptom. When your relationship is good with Allah, then your prayer falls into place. If you’re struggling in your devotion to God though, you will see the effects of it in your prayer. That may very well be the case. I definitely feel less connected to some of the external practices that I grew up with. I watch more Youtube videos then I would care to admit. I can really see that in some sense my practice has changed from what it was when I was the young woman so despondent that she missed her fajr prayer.

Prayer Beyond Formalities

Iqbal Nasim asks a question which unnerves me: Would you pray, if Allah didn’t require you to pray? 

The gut wrenching but immediately obvious answer for me is “No”. Probably the biggest indicator of this is how relieved I feel when I get my period: “thank God I get a break from praying now”. Any which way I sort it, I have to admit that I pray because I have to pray. I search for feeling and meaning to make sense of the experience of praying instead of reaching out to prayer in order to receive feeling and meaning. If anything, I have to work really hard to unearth any sense of connection from salah. 

I often pray, even though I don’t really want to pray 

But that begs the question of why … Why do I keep hacking at this practice if I’m progressing so reluctantly through it? The answer comes immediately again: I’m praying out of fear of punishment from Allah. But that seems to be a very surface level answer. Yes, my faith in the realities of the afterlife guide my decisions enough, but the temptation to drop this practice is so great, it should be easy for me to succumb. Allah is merciful isn’t He? He could forgive this weakness couldn’t He?

Well maybe knowing Allah beyond fear is where the answer lies. What’s interesting is that during the podcast, Brother Iqbal said something along the lines of: if you have decided to believe in Allah, and you really are committed to working on your relationship with Allah, your motivation will just fall into place. So that got me thinking, if I’m motivated enough to perform the outward aspects of prayer, but not much beyond that, it must mean that I have the first part, but maybe not the second. I have decided to believe in Allah, and have decided to submit to Him, on the basis of His Power and punishment, but do I really believe in Allah as the Merciful and overwhelmingly Loving? Do I believe in Him as someone I would want to reach out to in weakness and in need? Someone to build a loving relationship with?? 

My prayers would say no

Your Prayer as a Healing

The Messenger of Allah ﷺ said, “The parable of the believers in their affection, mercy, and compassion for each other is that of a body. When any limb aches, the whole body reacts with sleeplessness and fever.”

Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 6011

This ummah is in pain. It’s hard to keep track of all the different places that are in pain. So many parts of this body ache. From whole countries going through famine and cultural decimation, to individual families and children lost in the simple struggle to survive. We are in pain as a body, as limbs, and even as small cells within the whole. 

This begs the question though, what kind of cells are we in this body? Are you a white blood cell fighting off foes? A cancerous cell sucking up resources to grow yourself gargantuanly? A brain cell interpreting all the different experiences into a clear vision? Whenever we hear the quote from our Prophet ﷺ above, we respond to it with a sort of expectation of someone, somewhere doing something about all these bodily aches. But what if we are the cells that are costing others their lives? 

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