Taking a compassion-based approach to Ramadan
Photograph by Benjamin Voros via Unsplash
Dr. Rose Aslan
As Muslims worldwide observe the month of Ramadan, many heighten their prayers, read the Qur’an daily, and engage in other Islamic ritual practices. Those lucky enough to have family and friends nearby often gather for communal iftar meals at home or the mosque. Mosques get increasingly crowded throughout the month as more people fill the rows to pray Taraweeh, a special prayer that Sunni Muslims do either in a congregation or at home during the month.
These practices can give Muslims a sense of spiritual rejuvenation and upliftment, a time for renewal and cleaning their slate anew from the last Ramadan. The practices can be empowering and benefit those who can carry them out. At the same time, not all Muslims can participate in the full range of activities that are often expected and that some consider to be a “real” Ramadan experience.
The traditional frameworks of Ramadan observance sometimes create more distance than connection for Muslims who don’t fit neatly into conventional religious spaces or who have limitations that prevent them from fasting from food and water, or who lack childcare, among other challenges. The many recommended and required practices feel more like a burden than a spiritual gift.
Those of us who have felt like outsiders in our own religious communities know this tension intimately. Perhaps we carry religious trauma, navigate neurodivergence, manage chronic health conditions, or simply question certain status quo traditions, beliefs, and practices. For many of us, Ramadan can become a month of internal conflict layered with guilt and shame rather than spiritual peace. Instead of experiencing the compassion and renewal that lies at the heart of this month, we might feel shame for not practicing in ways deemed “correct” by community standards.
Ramadan practices bring profound meaning to many Muslims, but they can become sources of stress, burnout, and even religious trauma for others. I’ve witnessed Muslims with chronic illnesses and breastfeeding mothers push themselves to fast despite medical exemptions from their doctors, driven by community pressure and internalized guilt. I know many queer Muslims who feel unwelcome in mosque spaces yet yearn for a spiritual community where they can observe Ramadan with fellow Muslims. Converts often navigate Ramadan without family support, while neurodivergent Muslims may struggle with sensory overwhelm during crowded prayers or the physical discomfort of fasting. Others feel intense guilt for not following the expectations of orthodox Islam to the point that they feel too “impure” to be accepted by God and leave Islamic rituals altogether, and some even leave Islam.
Ramadan practices bring profound meaning to many Muslims, but they can become sources of stress, burnout, and even religious trauma for others. Compassion in Ramadan means embracing our humanity and our imperfections. It means recognizing that rest, nourishment, and flexibility can become forms of devotion.
The traditional approach and teachings around Ramadan don’t accommodate the lived realities of many Muslims. They need a gentler approach to the month that focuses less on a strict regimen of practices and more on the core of Ramadan, which is opening up to God’s mercy and deepening one’s connection with the divine. Ritual practices can aid many in this connection, but others need a gentler way to achieve the same outcome.
Rather than abandoning Ramadan altogether, some Muslims have begun creating alternative spaces — both online and in-person — that prioritize compassion, mindfulness, and accessibility. These spaces are environments where we can connect with Ramadan’s essence in ways that nourish rather than leave us feeling like we’re never enough.
Ramadan embodies divine compassion, yet many Muslims have internalized approaches to religious practice built on guilt and self-criticism rather than compassion. We berate ourselves for not praying enough, reading enough Qur’an, or fasting the entire month. This mindset misses the fundamental nature of God as Al-Rahman, Al-Rahim — the source of boundless mercy that encompasses all of creation.
Compassion in Ramadan means embracing our humanity and our imperfections. It means valuing intention over performance metrics. It means recognizing that rest, nourishment, and flexibility can become forms of devotion. Instead of forcing ourselves into a predetermined template, we might ask: What practices genuinely deepen our connection with the divine? What approaches allow us to experience spiritual renewal?
For some, this might mean modified fasting schedules or focusing on non-fasting spiritual practices when health requires it. For others, it could mean replacing lengthy mosque prayers with quieter forms of devotion: mindful breathing and movement, forest bathing, or personal reflection and journaling, with some time set aside for Islamic rituals. Some find community in smaller, more intimate gatherings rather than crowded spaces. Others use Ramadan to work on their Islamic ritual practices. So if they don’t pray at all, they might work towards praying once or twice a day, and if they don’t usually read the Qur’an, they might read several verses each day.
There is no single “correct” way to honor Ramadan. What matters is honoring and trusting that our bodies contain wisdom that tells us what works for us and treating ourselves with the same compassion we believe God extends to us. Ramadan was never meant to be an endurance test or a performance of outward piety. Instead, it offers opportunities for renewal, reflection, and connection. It is a gift for Muslims to remember what matters the most, and each person can decide how to get there.
May we all find ways to stay true to and honor our spiritual traditions while extending gentleness to ourselves and others along the way.
This is the third article in our Ramadan 2025 series.
Dr. Rose Aslan is a writer, podcaster, spiritual journeyer, independent religious studies scholar, explorer of the world and humanity, and empath. As a community healing practitioner, she supports leaders, rebels, misfits, and helpers to walk gracefully through life transitions and find congruence and joy in their lives. She is the author of “Muslim Prayer in American Public Life” (Oxford University Press, 2024).
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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