Jalees Ahmad, Al Hakam
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”
We’ve all heard this saying before. It basically means: when you’re in a particular place, you follow the customs and traditions of that area. You move how everyone else is moving. In simple words, you adapt.
Now let’s think about that, but through the lens of Ramadan.
When the month of Ramadan arrives, the entire atmosphere changes. The mosque feels fuller. The Holy Quran comes off the shelf more often. Our tongues become moist with the remembrance of Allah and we become more present in our religion.
Then, of course, our nights become longer. Our hearts feel softer. It’s the month in which Allah revealed the Holy Quran to the Holy Prophetsa a month, and an opportunity, steeped in mercy.
And naturally, we step up. We pray more and occupy ourselves with good deeds. We refrain from idle talk that we might struggle with during the rest of the year. We feel that spiritual high.
But, I want you to ask yourself: Is that change really you? Or is it just the environment carrying you?
Because it’s easy to be good when everyone around you is being good. It’s easier to wake up for Tahajjud when your sleep schedule revolves around sahoor. It’s easier to open the Holy Quran when reminders are everywhere. But what happens when Shawwal hits? When the routine goes back? When life picks up speed again?
The Holy Quran reminds us:
“Nay, man is a witness against himself. Even though he puts forward his excuses.” (Surah al-Qiyamah, Ch.75: V.15-16)
This verse undoubtedly resonates with all of us on a personal level. We know ourselves better than anyone else. We know if our repentance is sincere or seasonal.
So the million-dollar question remains: Does Ramadan automatically reform us? Or does it merely present us with the tools and leave the real work to us?
Why showing up matters
Let me give you an example easy to relate to. Imagine a person, fully invested, signs up for a gym membership. They buy the fresh outfit and the new trainers, hoping for a “new beginnings” arc. Realistically, they know that they’re not going to see overnight changes. So they wait.
Then, six months go by, and one day they look in the mirror and say, “Why haven’t I changed? Why haven’t I gained muscle? Why do I look the same?” So they decide to go to the gym and “see what’s going on”.
But here’s the twist in the entire scenario that flips the script. They haven’t actually been going. They signed up. They paid the membership fee. They liked the idea of transformation. But they’ve just been at home the whole time, expecting that simply being associated with the gym would, somehow, produce results. I’m sure we’d laugh at that, right?
But, before we laugh, we must observe this pattern deeply. Because we all know the obvious truth: a membership doesn’t change your body. In actuality, it’s the effort, the consistency, the discipline that helps us change. It’s all about showing up when you don’t feel like it. The gym is just a facility. The progress comes from the work. And Ramadan is no different.
Ramadan is akin to a spiritual training camp. It definitely provides us with the structure. The setting. The momentum. The reminders. But the results? They depend on whether you actually engage, whether you push yourself, whether you carry that discipline even beyond the month.
Logically, it’s clear that we can’t expect a life changing reform in 30 days if the things we do aren’t changing our lives. We must have the intent of an active transformation.
Ramadan doesn’t automatically reform a person. It allows them to reform themselves. And just like the gym, the question isn’t whether the system works. The question is much simpler: did you?
To seek mercy from the Merciful is a sign of His mercy
No doubt, this month offers a huge chance to change ourselves and strengthen our bond with God and do good for humanity. If the idea of improving even crosses your mind, know this: it is itself a mercy from Allah. For it is He who has instilled in your heart the desire to change and live more in line with Islam.
When we read the story of Adamas, we see that it was Allah who taught him words by which he sought forgiveness (Surah al-Baqarah, Ch.2: V.38). Even in this, there is a subtle but powerful lesson: when we turn to Allah, it is not entirely our own decision. It is by His grace that we are given the ability to turn to Him, to reform ourselves.
A final thought to contemplate on
I want you to imagine meeting yourself, or perhaps, your potential self. The self you could become if you fully exerted your God-given faculties: the best version of yourself. Imagine, for a moment, reaching such spiritual heights that your connection with the Divine is so unbreakable and unshakable.
If you met that version of yourself, would you be inspired?
Often, the limitations we feel within are not the limits of our ability, but the laziness of our nafs. What if we are capable of becoming something greater? What if Ramadan is the training ground, the opportunity to start that transformation, to begin shaping ourselves into the version we were always meant to be?
Know this: the human being is ever a witness over their own nafs, even if they offer excuses. It is only we who know the potential of who we can be. The real question is: can we begin polishing the mirror in which we see ourselves?
