The environment of Dār al-Qāsim cultivates academic rigor and devotion to knowledge. From the moment of orientation, students are told that this is the home of bookworms, thus, if one is unwilling to bury himself in his studies, then this institution is not suited best for him. This drive and affirmation comes directly from our tradition of scholars who devoted their lives to learning: reading extensively, researching meticulously, authoring works, and teaching tirelessly. For eleven months of the year, they dedicate themselves entirely to this pursuit, exhausting every effort in the service of knowledge and its transmission.

Yet when the blessed month of Ramaḍān arrives, that same scholarly intensity is redirected. The researching and teaching is set aside, and hearts turn wholly toward the Qurʾān. The scholars who once immersed themselves in research and writing now devote themselves to its recitation while drinking deeply from its meanings. This was the imprint my teachers left upon me, shaping my expectations long before my own Ramaḍān began. 

To the outside world, our lives during Ramaḍān appear especially difficult. People often ask, “Not even water?” in reference to our sixteen-hour fasts. While it is true that we await the call of Maghrib to quench our physical thirst, the truest quenching comes not from water, but from the drops of waḥy heard and recited alongside the embodiment of the Sunnah, giving our mukallaf limbs illumination. In those moments, while bearing the banner of the Sunnah, we are granted an intimate opportunity with our Lord, a conversation rooted in reflection, renewal, and motivation to complete the next 11 months of the year. 

Now that the mentality was formed, my next crucial step was execution. Oftentimes, we spend most of the month constructing a blueprint and schedule we believe will maximize barakat in the day, yet the ideal blueprint has already been laid out and at our fingertips. Our Messenger ﷺ perfected worship in this month, and it was only when I began following his footsteps that the true sweetness of Ramaḍān became apparent. Each sunnah acts as a reinforcement of spiritual vigor and determination. Whether it was waking up an hour before Fajr for two units of tahajjud, dhikr and suḥūr or praying Salat al-Awābīn after Maghrib, each voluntary act was an attempt to receive this month, in the fashion that he, ﷺ , did. 

Through these two lenses, Dār al-Qāsim reshaped my Ramaḍān by teaching me to approach the Qurʾān and Sunnah as sources of spiritual realignment, catalysts for self-reflection, and a litmus test for the state of my heart. When verses addressing belief and hypocrisy were recited, I was compelled to examine my own inclinations: was I allowing the Qurʾān to fill my emptied vessel, or was it purifying the space around it? Similarly, when I felt weak or sought shortcuts in adhering to the Sunnah, I was forced to confront my loyalty to the Prophet  ﷺ: is my eagerness merely a reflection of the community’s practices or is it a genuine yearning to be like him  ﷺ. In these ways, what might once have been mere recitation and ritualized bodily movement became engagement with meaning, drawing the Qurʾān and Sunnah from the tongue into the heart, and awakening a deeper awareness of Allah’s mercy and the Prophet’s steadfastness.