As the days fly by, make it a meaningful end to Ramadan

If moments carry meanings then the quintessential meaning of Ramadan lies in mercy and generous giving.

Ramadan is thus a banquet of compassion. You’ll be excused if you remain at the table when everyone else has left.

The Prophet’s companions described him as being at his most generous in this month. Charity, his time and a smile were always more abundant during the holy month. Generous giving that is tempered by mercy is a mark of spiritual progression. As the Irish proverb goes, “generosity is the key to marvels”.

Mercy and generous giving culminate within the axial act of this month, the fast. Practising restraint from our passions and pleasures engenders empathy and makes it easier for us to relate to the less fortunate.

Both of these meanings have seemed distantly absent in world events over the past three weeks.

News outlets have been replete with heartbreaking stories about children: killings, abuses, starvation, exploitation and conflicts in which they are the number one casualty.

Children are increasingly taking centre stage in other people’s fights and problems. Be they in the confines of Gaza, the killing fields of Syria, the refugee camps of Palestine or a playground in Waziristan, our children are being systematically robbed of their childhoods. The smiles on their faces are being wiped away. The purity of their hearts are being soiled. The infliction of harm upon children symbolises the ultimate absence of mercy.

Mental health professionals have been warning us for many years of the stark impacts of war on children. Moral and spiritual impacts and psychological suffering are listed as the most tragic effects and there are calls for war to be defined as a global public health problem.

And, in the midst of all of this, it is the human hand that is stained with responsibility. Humans are conduits for mercy and generosity. Where mercy is absent, the human is at fault. For the faithful, Ramadan offers the chance of a reset, the opportunity to rekindle meanings of mercy and generosity towards our children – time is of the essence.

Upon seeing the Prophet kiss his grandchildren, a nomadic Arab exclaimed: “I have 10 children and never kissed any one of them.” The Prophet replied: “Whomever has no mercy will not be shown it. I cannot place mercy in your heart after it has been taken away.”

Nomadic Arabs came from harsh environments yet that was not an excuse. Innate human traits should never be at a loss irrespective of the surrounding circumstances.

While absorbed in prayer, the Prophet was seen to have held his granddaughter, Umama. When he bowed he would gently place her on the floor and when he arose he would pick her again. The children of his family would eagerly meet him around the outskirts of Medina on his return from travelling and ride with him until they reached home. He said: “He who does not honour the old and have mercy with the young is not from among us.”

During a sermon, the Prophet’s grandsons, Hassan and Hussain, both infants at the time, walked into the mosque falling and picking themselves up again until they arrived at the pulpit.

Upon seeing them approach he came down and affectionately picked them both up and returned to continue to deliver his sermon, remarking: “I saw them both and could not desist.”

The Prophet had a particular concern for orphans. He would comfort them by picking them up, putting his arm around them and playing with them.

Caring for an orphan was made a virtue and he said: “The best of homes is one in which there is an orphan who is treated well, and the worst of homes is the one in which an orphan is treated wrongly.”

Less than a week remains of Ramadan. It is never too late to reinvigorate meanings of mercy and generous giving in our lives and their centrality to our children.

Abaas Yunas is a futures analyst at Tabah Foundation in Abu Dhabi and works closely with regional faith-based leadership on issues of contemporary concern

On Twitter: @abaasyunas