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’

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?

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? 

I am as my servant expects Me to be …

What feelings do you feel when the time for prayer comes in? 

How about what you feel when you knock on the door as you’re about to enter your best friend’s house? 

What about other people? When you’re going to see:

your kind mother 

your funny best friend 

your angry boss

your distant cousin 

your unresponsive teacher 

your generous neighbor 

your loving husband 

your cold uncle 

Each of these conjures up a different feeling but essentially: a rejoice at or recoil from the actual meeting. You naturally have a different relationship with each person and so you will feel differently about meeting them. The question though is, does that feeling have more to do with them or with you …       

You are you. Your personality traits are the same: your faults and strengths within you. It’s true that what you show or hide can change depending on who you’re with, but that’s simply a choice. It’s not that you have changed or that you are necessarily a different person each time you see one of them, it is that your perceptions of how they view you and will respond to you is different. It’s your beliefs about who they are and how they will treat you that causes you to anticipate and respond to them differently. 

Which brings us back to the first question … How do we feel when we are about to meet with Allah?

A Single Minute to Better Prayer

Have you been trying to better your prayer and struggling?! Do you feel hopeless that your prayer will ever get better? Do you feel like your relationship with Allah is strained and desperate?

What if I told you there was a solution … Something that will literally take 1 minute and will completely change your whole experience of salah and maybe even your whole relationship with Allah …

This sounds like a gimmick, but it’s not!!

As part of his course, Transform My Prayer, Iqbal Nasim recommends that before you pray any prayer you take time out for what he terms ‘The Golden Minute’. Basically you take 1 full minute before you start praying to set yourself up mentally as to what it is you are about to do: meet with Allah. It’s very simple and obviously takes very little time.

You may think 1 minute is nothing but I bet if you try it you’ll find yourself sweating just 10 seconds in.

[Book Excerpt] Why Does God not guide some of us when we want to be guided so badly?

The following is an excerpt from Jeffrey Lang’s book: Losing My Religion: A Call for Help. In it he answers the question put to him on why it is that despite our sincerest efforts, sometimes we still don’t feel anything in our prayers. So pertinent to the quest here on Sillah to find more connection in prayer, the excerpt felt fundamental to the conversation and we are so fortunate that the publishers allowed us to share it. May Allah bless this author for sharing his perspective and grant us all steadfastness in seeking Him throughout all the experiences of life. The excerpt begins with the author noting the question put him by a young Muslim. You can also find a PDF of the excerpt for easier reading below. Happy Reading!

Question 3 (part of a lengthy conversation I had with a young immigrant Muslim [woman] who struggles to find peace of mind and spirit in her inherited faith; this struggle is a frequently mentioned frustration of many young Muslim Americans): 

I think that in my last e-mail I mentioned to you that the more I study Islam and the more I learn about it, the less I feel connected to God. I am sure that this sounds strange to you since you have come to know God through Islam. But the fact is that the more I go through the do’s and don’t’s of our faith, the further away I feel from God. For example, for about four months or so, I was extremely religious about my prayers: five times a day, on time and all of that stuff. Well, not even once in my prayers did I feel God’s presence or any sense of peace. I would pray that He would guide me to the truth and show me His way. 

After a while, my prayers started feeling like a burden. I felt like I was doing them because “that is the way it is,” or “God commanded us to do them.” I wanted to get them over with. This just does not feel right to me. Isn’t prayer supposed to be our quiet time with God, where we feel a connection rather than resentment and burden and consequently a disconnection and moving away from God? I do not feel that I should be feeling all these negative emotions in my worship to Him. In other words, I felt like a total hypocrite just going through the motions of prayer while resenting the fact that I had to do it. 

Calling the Divine

I often wonder how the companions of the Prophet ﷺ were able to transition to praying and connecting with Allah ﷻ so naturally, while I, raised in the embrace of Islam since birth, find it so mysterious. While its true that some companions like Abu-Bakr رضي الله عنه led lives of spiritual cleanliness and maybe even sensitivity up until the point of revelation, others were not1 While sources are not sited, this link gives a good description on the life of Abubakr before Islam . The general culture and atmosphere of Makkah prior to the message was hedonistic and self centered at best. Brothels were common and crime both petty and obtuse was rampant. While we often look back at the past with lenses of purity and simplicity, its safe to say that Makkah life in the pre Islamic period was neither2 See Aspects of Pre-Islamic Arabian Society – Social LIfe of the Arabs in The Sealed Nectar pg. 28.  So, given all of this – given growing, living, and breathing in such a place, how did the companions, so entrenched in it all, not only shift to leading spiritual lives, but actually quickly and seamlessly begin to pray with diligence and devotion? How did the companions know how to connect to Allah through their prayers so easily?

I used to think the answer was complex and multifaceted, but the more I pondered on the role of duaa in salah, the more simple the answer appeared. While this is a website devoted to discussing, growing, and connecting around the idea of salah, prayer, I wanted to diverge a little to talk about another type of prayer – duaa. 

The Dialogue – Al-Fatiha

Salah is a gift that Allah has bestowed on our community with much love, and Al-Fatiha – the chapter of the Quran we read in every single segment of the prayer – is a gift within that gift. When angel Jibreel was sitting with the Messenger of Allah ﷺ, he heard a noise from the sky and said that a door had been opened in the Heavens that had never been opened before. An angel who had never come down to Earth came through this door with Al-Fatiha.

When Omar bin Abdul-Aziz, a righteous caliph who was known for his justice and piety, would recite Surat Al-Fatiha, he would pause after reading every single verse. When asked for the reason, he answered: “Because I wanted to enjoy the reply from my Lord”. 

He was referring to this beautiful authentic hadith. The Prophet ﷺ said: Allah said:

قسمت الصلاة بيني وبين عبدي نصفين ولعبدي ما سأل

I have split salah [Al-Fatiha] between Myself and My slave, half is for Me, and half for him, and My servant shall have what he asks for

Take a moment before you start reciting Al-Fatiha to renew your intentions, and be mentally and emotionally present, for you are about to have an actual dialogue with Allah. He will respond to you as you read this surah. Think about how honoring and humbling this is. We, His sinful slaves, who have been so consumed with this worldly life and its desires, have an opportunity to have a real dialogue with the Lord of the Heavens and Earth.

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