Exploring the Depth of the Meaning of Fasting

JAKARTA – Happy fasting. The beginning of Ramadan 2026 is once again marked by debates regarding the methods of hisab and rukyat, as well as the use of local or global matla’.

These differences are the result of ijtihad that has long lived within the Islamic scholarly tradition. What is more essential is how each Muslim observes fasting in accordance with their convictions and with full spiritual awareness.

Fasting cannot be reduced merely to the practice of refraining from eating and drinking throughout the day.

It goes beyond formal ritual boundaries and enters the social and cultural realms. A survey by the Center for the Study of Islam and Society (PPIM) UIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta (2001–2006) showed that 92–95 percent of respondents fasted during Ramadan, a figure surpassing the practice of prayer, which stood at around 70–75 percent.

These findings demonstrate that fasting has become a collective practice deeply rooted in society, not only as a theological obligation but also as participation in a shared culture.

In Java, fasting has strong cultural dimensions. In the past, Ramadan began with a series of rituals such as nyadran—visiting ancestral graves—and besik, cleaning family graves as a symbol of honoring and preserving tradition.

Padusan, or bathing in rivers or natural springs, was performed as an outward form of purification. These rituals affirm that entering Ramadan is not merely a shift in time but an existential transition: from an ordinary state toward a higher spiritual condition.

Throughout Ramadan, the collective life of village communities feels vibrant. The commemoration of Nuzulul Qur’an on the 17th night is celebrated with slametan at the musholla. Entering the 21st night (selikuran), people bring offerings of seasoned rice and side dishes, and light lamps and torches around their homes and village paths.

These lights serve not only as physical illumination but also as symbols of searching for inner light, especially in anticipation of Lailatul Qadar.

The culmination of this whole series is Idul Fitri. After the dawn prayer, the community gathers at the mosque bringing dishes for a joint selamatan, followed by the communal Id prayer.

The tradition of visiting one another and asking for forgiveness—especially from the young to the elders—becomes a social practice that strengthens cohesion.

Clifford Geertz saw Idul Fitri as an integrative moment that transcends social boundaries within Javanese society.

This series concludes with the syawalan tradition, especially on the fifth day of Syawal, when ketupat and traditional foods are served as symbols of completing the spiritual cycle.

Some communities still preserve this tradition as a cultural dakwah heritage of the Walisongo, who accommodated local culture in the spread of Islam.

Others have adapted it due to economic considerations and changes in social structure. Here we see that fasting traditions are not static; they continually evolve with societal dynamics.

In urban areas, expressions of fasting undergo transformation. The busy and individualistic character of city life shapes new patterns in observing Ramadan traditions.

Limited social interaction—due to closed residential structures and fast-paced work rhythms—makes collective rituals harder to conduct.

As a result, communal religious practices shift into more flexible forms: breaking the fast together in restaurants, religious gatherings in hotels or offices, and i‘tikaf scheduled within specific time slots.

The tradition of breaking the fast together (iftar) actually has historical roots from the time of Prophet Muhammad. He would break the fast with his family and companions in the mosque—a practice emphasizing the dimension of togetherness in worship.

In the modern era, iftar has developed into a social space across communities. In major cities, it is not only a religious moment but also a space for social and professional interaction.

In many cases, iftar is packaged more exclusively, even accompanied by short sermons or philanthropic activities such as sharing with orphans. This transformation shows the ability of fasting traditions to adapt without losing their essential meaning.

I‘tikaf during the last ten nights of Ramadan has also become an interesting urban phenomenon. This practice reflects a longing for deeper spiritual experience amid the fast-paced modern life.

Some do it to revive memories of childhood in village suraus, while others seek new experiences that bring inner peace.

The tradition of sleeping in mosques, once common in many regions, now reappears in a more reflective form.

From an anthropological perspective, the continuity of a ritual depends greatly on its ability to be framed as a “festival”.

A festival is not merely a celebration but a social mechanism for transmitting values. Nyadran, slametan, communal iftar, and takbiran are forms of festivals that bind individuals within a collective experience. Rituals come alive because they are celebrated, not merely performed.

Émile Durkheim stated that the main function of religion is to build and reinforce social solidarity. In times of grief, rituals provide collective strength to endure.

In moments of joy, they generate shared happiness that strengthens social bonds. The concept of collective effervescence—a surge of collective emotional energy—becomes key to how society experiences togetherness that transcends the individual.

Fasting, in this context, is not only a personal act of worship but also a mechanism for forming “social consciousness” that enables emotional and moral interconnectedness.

A common question is why the atmosphere of Ramadan in rural areas feels deeper than in cities. This can be understood through Durkheim’s framework of mechanical and organic solidarity.

Homogeneous rural communities participate directly and collectively in each ritual, making the spiritual experience more intense.

In contrast, heterogeneous urban communities contribute through more fragmented roles. Participation still exists, but it does not always create the same emotional closeness.

Thus, fasting is an ocean of meaning. It contains spiritual, social, cultural, and even anthropological dimensions. It teaches self-discipline while cultivating social empathy.

It brings inner stillness as well as collective joy. It connects humans to God and connects humans to one another.

Amid changing times, the greatest challenge is not preserving traditions in their literal forms but safeguarding the spirit behind them.

Fasting will lose its meaning if it becomes merely a biological routine without spiritual awareness, or just a festival devoid of ethical depth.

Conversely, fasting will remain alive if it continues to be a space for reflection, solidarity, and self-transformation.

To delve into fasting is to enter a space where the body is restrained but the soul is liberated; where hunger becomes a language of empathy; where time becomes a witness to inner journey.

Fasting is not merely refraining from what is permissible but training oneself to avoid what is harmful—in thoughts, words, and actions.

Ultimately, fasting teaches one fundamental truth: humans do not live in isolation. They always exist within a web of meaning—with God, with others, and with inherited traditions.

Fasting becomes a bridge that connects all of these into a single, unified experience: the experience of becoming a more conscious, more compassionate human being, and one closer to the Giver of Life.

source: https://uiii.ac.id/exploring-the-depth-of-the-meaning-of-fasting/