The Shared Wisdom of Sacred Hunger

Posted On March 11, 2025

The Multifaith Collaborative of the Open Spirit Center near Fatima Shrine recently held an Interfaith Iftar, or breaking of the fast of Ramadan, to which all peoples of all faiths are invited. One of our speakers was Dr. Sadik Kassim, a scientist specializing in Gene Therapy for Cancer and chaplain of the Taha Collective, a nonprofit organization established to serve the Muslim-American and spiritually curious community of the Boston metropolitan area. Here is his talk on fasting across religious traditions. Used with permission.

In every faith tradition represented in this room tonight, there is a moment when hunger becomes holy. For Muslims now observing Ramadan, dawn breaks with a prayer instead of breakfast. For Jews commemorating Yom Kippur, the body’s emptiness creates space for atonement. For Christians during Lent, each hunger pang whispers the story of forty days in the wilderness.

Tonight, as we gather under one roof—Muslim, Jewish, Christian, and seekers of all kinds—we explore what divides us and what has united human spiritual experience for millennia: the transformative power of voluntary hunger. In this reflection, I want to reflect on Ramadan and the spiritual practice that binds our traditions together across time and space.

Ramadan marks the month when the first verses of the Qur’an descended upon the Prophet Muhammad (عليه السلام) in the cave of Hira. What began as a solitary spiritual experience quickly blossomed into a communal practice that would transform the world. The Qur’an reminds Muslims of the ancient lineage of fasting: “O you who believe, fasting is prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, so that you may develop God-consciousness (taqwa).” (Qur’an 2:183) In these words, we find an acknowledgment that Muslims are continuing a sacred practice that has shaped human spirituality for thousands of years.

Ramadan transforms ordinary life

From dawn until sunset, Muslims abstain not only from food and drink but also from anger, gossip, and negativity. Physical hunger awakens spiritual hunger—for righteousness, compassion, and God. Yet Ramadan’s most potent lesson may be found in its communal nature:

• The pre-dawn meal (suhoor) brings families together in quiet intimacy before the day begins
• The evening breaking of the fast (iftar) opens doors to neighbors, friends, and strangers
• The night prayers (taraweeh) fill mosques with communities reciting sacred words together
• The obligation of charity (zakat al-fitr) ensures that no one celebrates the Eid festival in need during Ramadan and fasts alone. The hunger is individual, but the experience is collective—a powerful metaphor for our shared humanity.

In the Jewish tradition, fasting creates sacred space for divine encounters. When Moses ( عليه السلام) ascended Mount Sinai, the Torah tells us, “Moses was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights without eating bread or drinking water. and he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant—the Ten Commandments” (Exodus 34: 28). Moses’ fast wasn’t merely a physical discipline, it was spiritual preparation for receiving divine revelation. Similarly, on Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – Jews fast from sunset to sunset, creating spiritual space for teshuvah (repentance) and renewal of the covenant.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us that true fasting isn’t merely abstention from food but active engagement with justice: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the houseless into your home?” (Isaiah 58:6-7). This prophetic understanding of fasting as justice-orientated resonates deeply with Ramadan’s emphasis on charity and community care.

For Christians, fasting often connects to Jesus’ (عليه السلام) forty-day fast in the wilderness: “After forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to home…” (Matthew 4: 2-3). This fasting period prepared Jesus for his public ministry and taught resistance to temptation. Later, the early Christian communities would fast together on Wednesdays and Fridays, creating rhythms of shared spiritual discipline. The season of Lent – the forty days before Easter – continues this tradition, inviting Christians into a period of self-examination, repentance, and spiritual renewal through fasting and abstinence.

As the fourth-century theologian Basil the Great wrote: “Fasting gives birth to prophets and strengthens the powerful; fasting makes lawgivers wide. Fasting is a good safeguard for the soul, a steadfast companion for the body, a weapon for the valiant, and a gymnasium for athletes.”

Here in Massachusetts, our spiritual heritage includes voices like Henry David Thoreau, who recognized fasting’s transformative power even outside formal religious contexts. At Walden Pond, just miles from where we sit tight, Thoreau explored voluntary simplicity as a path of spiritual awakening. He wrote: “I believe that every man who has ever been earnest to preserve his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition has been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food… The savage (natural man) knows the luxury of fasting and feasting.”

Modern science confirms what our faith traditions have known intuitively for millennia—that we thrive in the community. Just as breaking the fast in our spiritual traditions creates community bonds, research shows these bonds are essential to our well-being. The Framingham Heart Study, begun in 1948 and spanning generations, revealed profound connections between community and health. In a landmark analysis, researchers discovered that social integration – measured by marriage, contacts with friends and family, and community involvement – significantly reduced mortality risk.

Those with strong social ties had a 50% greater chance of survival than those who were socially isolated. Even more revealing, the study found that social connections were as powerful predictors of health as traditional risk factors like smoking, high blood pressure, and obesity. Community bonds literally strengthened the heart—participants with greater social connections showed lower risks of cardiovascular disease, demonstrating how our relationships become inscribed in our physical being.

We Need One Another

Our spiritual traditions were understood long before scientists; we need one another spiritually and physiologically. The communal breaking of the fast isn’t merely cultural – it’s life-giving in the most literal sense. The shared wisdom of sacred hunger across these diverse traditions teaches us common lessons:

1. Emptiness Creates Space for the Divine: When we empty ourselves physically, we create room for spiritual filling. The hunger of the body awakens the hunger of the soul.
2. Voluntary Deprivation Builds Compassion: When we choose hunger, we better understand those with no choice. Fasting cultivates empathy that transcends theological boundaries.
3. Individual Discipline Strengthens Community Bonds: Our traditions recognize that fasting, though deeply personal, flourishes in the community. We support one another in discipline and celebrate together in breaking our fasts.
4. Physical Restraint Teaches Spiritual Freedom: By limiting our consumption, we discover that we are more than our appetites—a countercultural message in our consumer society.
5. Fasting Transcends Religion to Touch Our Common Humanity: When Muslims, Jews, and Christians fast, they may use different prayers, but their bodies speak the same language of hunger and hope.

Closing: A Community of Sacred Hunger

During the Ottoman Empire, Muslims, Christians, and Jews lived side by side in many cities. There is a beautiful account of how, during Ramadan, Christian, and Jewish neighbors would sometimes dim their lights and avoid eating in public out of respect for their fasting Muslim neighbors. In turn, Muslim neighbors would show similar consideration during Christian Lent or Jewish fast days.

This wasn’t about adopting each other’s beliefs but recognizing the sacred discipline in one another’s practices and honoring the divine spark that calls us all to something higher than our appetites.

Tonight, as Muslims around the world break their Ramadan fast, as Jews prepare for Passover, and as Christians journey through Lent and Holy Week, may we recognize that across our different paths, we share a common hunger—not just for food but for meaning, connection, and the divine.

As the Framingham study reminds us, the connections we forge in breaking our fasts together may do more than nourish our spirits—they may literally extend our lives. When we gather to break bread after periods of sacred hunger, we participate in a practice that ancient wisdom and modern science affirm as essential to human flourishing.