Ramadan, Lent and the Bahá’í fast align this year revealing a rare lesson in unity
Commentary by Daniel Pschaida | FāVS News
This March presents a rare convergence of religious fasting traditions. Muslims observe Ramadan, Christians engage in Lenten practices and Bahá’ís fast in preparation for their New Year. These fasting periods, which rarely align on the calendar, offer an opportunity to explore common spiritual threads, while bridging religious differences.
As a practicing Bahá’í who teaches courses on Islam and world religions at Gonzaga, I’ve long recognized similarities between Islamic and Bahá’í fasting practices. However, since Ramadan follows a lunar calendar, while the Bahá’í fast occurs every year during the 19 days before spring equinox, their simultaneous occurrence is extraordinary. This year, both began on March 1 — the first such alignment in my lifetime — with Lent beginning the same week.
Inspired by this convergence, I spoke with colleagues at Gonzaga about their traditions: Brian Siebeking, a professor of Islamic Studies and practicing Greek Orthodox Christian; Anastasia Wendlinder, a professor of Catholic Studies; and Ramadan Alkhatib from the engineering department, who is named after the sacred month he honors.
Three traditions — three fasts
Both Islamic and Bahá’í fasts occur during daylight hours, abstaining from food and drink. Muslims begin at dawn while Bahá’ís start at sunrise, with both ending at sunset. Muslims typically fast for thirty days, while Bahá’ís fast for nineteen days — an entire month according to our calendar of 19 months of 19 days each.
Alkhatib described Ramadan as a time for “fasting, prayer, charity and spiritual renewal,” highlighting that the last 10 nights are especially significant, including the Night of Power when the Qur’an was first revealed to Prophet Muhammad.
The Bahá’í fast occurs during the month of ‘Alá (Loftiness). It functions, in my understanding, as a “pre-spring cleaning,” recalibrating our lives and strengthening our connection with the Creator before the new year begins.
Siebeking explained that Orthodox Christians begin Lent with Clean Week, when many abstain completely from food and water initially, then regularly abstain from meat, animal products, oil and alcohol throughout the season. Many become effectively vegan during this period.
He emphasized that these practices help cultivate “almost like a mystical mindset of dwelling more on God and your relationship to God or contextualizing your existence and relationship to your Creator.”
For Catholics, Wendlinder noted that fasting itself isn’t central to modern Lent. Instead, intentional personal transformation is key — giving up not just food but anything that prevents spiritual growth, such as sugar, unwholesome entertainment or social media. This detachment allows one to “die to the old self” and be reborn.
Solidarity with the disadvantaged
All three traditions emphasize solidarity with those experiencing poverty and hunger. Wendlinder recalled her parents teaching her to save money during Lent for donation to those in need.
Siebeking referenced Jesus’s teaching in Matthew 25:35-36 about feeding the hungry and clothing the naked as acts of love for God. Muslims similarly develop empathy for the hungry through fasting, with Alkhatib explaining how businesses in Muslim-majority societies often provide evening meals to strangers and friends alike, and that giving in charity during the last 10 days of Ramadan are considered an especially blessed time to give.
Community, community, community
Community plays a vital role in these traditions.
Alkhatib described how Muslims in North America create close community during Ramadan, “gathering each night for prayer, fellowship, listening to beautiful chanting of a portion of the Qur’an and sharing desserts, coffee and tea.”
Siebeking noted that while Lent and fasting in the U.S. differs from countries with an Orthodox Christian majority where it’s embedded in the social fabric, creating community is “particularly important when you’re a small minority.” He emphasized, “No one is saved alone. We’re in the ship of salvation all journeying together … whether or not you’re actually adhering to the rigor of the fast, it doesn’t matter. The community is fasting … The community is now feasting … You’re with us.”
Wendlinder highlighted how community celebration begins before Lent with Mardi Gras festivities. Her parish holds a procession with “music … New Orleans food … beans and bread.”
For Bahá’ís, community celebration occurs during the four to five Intercalary Days before the fast, with dinners, games, concerts and charitable activities.
A time of self-preparation
Each tradition views its fasting period as preparation for an important celebration. Christians fast for 40 days, emulating Jesus’ wilderness testing, to “recognize all the ways in which we’re distracted … and try to focus more on … our connection.” Siebeking described Lent as preparing the “soil of our hearts” for Pascha (Easter), which he called “the greatest feast in the calendar of the church” and “the most important event in the history of Christianity.”
Wendlinder also described Easter —celebrating the resurrection of Jesus — as even more important than Christmas.
Alkhatib said that each year he looks forward to the additional congregational prayers (called Taraweeh) performed during Ramadan evenings, where someone with a beautiful voice chants the Qur’an for an hour. He described this as a “breathtaking spiritual experience” that “touches the soul” and “fills the heart with peace and serenity” through deep connection with God. Such moments help one prepare for the three-day Eid celebrations with food, fellowship and giving gifts to children.
The Bahá’í fast itself concludes with Naw-Rúz (New Year) celebrations on the first day of spring, which sometimes incorporates the traditional Persian practice of a display of seven things that start with ‘s’ that represent new life.
Refining our sincerity
All three traditions emphasize sincere motivation. Siebeking paraphrased Jesus: “Don’t fast like the hypocrites who want to be seen as fasting,” explaining that “it’s a private discipline.”
Wendlinder, already vegetarian, is giving up dairy products during Lent without substitutes to truly detach and — in 4th century Bishop John Chrysostom’s words — remember that “the only true and lasting source of joy is internal.”
Alkhatib stressed that no one else is to know whether you are fasting. It is “between you and God” and not meant to impress others but to create “a deeper connection with God.”
Similarly, in a prayer Bahá’ís are reminded that fast “of love for Thee and for Thy good-pleasure — and not out of self and desire.”
Celebrating our connections
Many religious traditions share the sense of fasting as a practice of detaching and refining. Even as one detaches from over relying upon food to get through one’s day, one can also reflect on more subtle things that have an imbalanced place in one’s life. These things serve more as chains than wings to fully take flight to God’s loving presence.
This March offers us an opportunity for an unusual kind of detaching — detaching from religious identities that wall us off rather than serve as bridges — to connect with fellow worshippers of God who are in another religious tradition yet who are engaged in a kindred practice of detaching from aught else and strengthening one’s relationship with the Divine. Through these conversations, I’ve gotten to bond with three Gonzaga colleagues with how much we share across our traditions — the experience of standing before God with an honest soul and connecting with our spiritual communities despite our different practices.
If interested, you can find my more detailed report comparing my three interviews here.
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.
