This is the second blog entry in a series on interfaith perspectives during Lent.

Gest blogger Hafsa Kanjwal is the Leadership Associate at the Interfaith Youth Core. She recently graduated from the School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University, where she studied Regional Studies of the Muslim World and International Development. Hafsa was born in Kashmir and moved to the United States when she was six years old. She is deeply interested in political Islam, especially as it relates to democratic reform.

I always used to think that there was a great dichotomy between spirituality and activism. The image of the spiritual seeker in my mind was not one of an individual who works towards social justice. I felt, for whatever reason, that I could be one or the other. And for a long time, I choose the latter.

My identity as an American Muslim was for the longest time built upon the foundation of working towards that justice, whether abroad in my native Kashmir, or on my campus community. It was an exploration of the more public expressions of religious identity and solidarity. The most important thing to me was to create a more just public space, and I did not realize that this required greater inner coherence, built upon a strong personal relationship with our Creator.
Two years ago, I remember asking a Muslim activist, whom I deeply respect, what provided her with the most fulfillment in her work. I was shocked when she answered, “Prayer.”

She shared a quote with me by Imam Ali, the Prophet Muhammad’s (peace and blessings be upon him) nephew that I am incredibly grateful for — “Work for this life as if you would life forever, and work for the hereafter as if you would die tomorrow.” I have come to realize that balancing my actions and intentions towards the fulfillment of my responsibilities to both this world and the hereafter is the only way I can achieve success in both.

Of course, intentionally seeking that spiritual balance is challenging. It is during the month of Ramadan that the space for reflection for Muslims is vast, and it is during that month where I work hard to set aside the time for more prayer, more reflection, and more recitation of the Holy Qur’an. During the rest of the year, creating that space becomes more difficult, which is why I am grateful for Lent.

My colleague at the Interfaith Youth Core suggested that a group of us, Christians, Muslims and Jews, partake in Lent this year and give up or add something to our daily routine once a week. At the end of the day, we reflect on our thoughts and experiences. I was inspired by my Christian colleague who mentioned that she wanted to explore the tradition of Christian mysticism during this month. I have always been personally interested in Sufism, a strong spiritual tradition in Islam. As part of my Lenten promise, I wanted to set aside more time during the day to do dhikr, the Arabic word for “remembrance of God.” This can consist of reciting the 99 names of God in Arabic, reciting verses from the Qur’an, or invoking special dua’s, or supplications. I had the chance to attend a group dhikr last week that I left enchanted. It is said that any gathering of people that invokes the remembrance of God is blessed, and I truly felt that in the presence of such a community.

The purpose of the dhikr ranges for each participant. For me, it is a reminder of the greatness of our Creator. As my fingers slide through the tasbih, or prayer beads, I am also reminded of the beauty of His creation.

More information at Diversity: At Worship

See also: Coveting my neighbor’s religious practices