Fasting for the day, then sweetness fills the night

Thirteen hours had passed since sunrise, and that plate of dark, sweet dates, and those brimming water glasses, looked tempting indeed.

"I saw the stars," a hopeful young girl in a head scarf told her friend as they waited for the sun to set.

But it was not until they heard the adhan, or call to evening prayer, at 7:34 that they and other worshipers at this West Philadelphia mosque reached for "breakfast" - their first food and drink of a long day.

"Yes, you may have a date," a woman assured her young son Thursday evening. He scurried toward the table.

It was Day 14 of Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar, when Muslims around the world abstain from food and drink during daylight hours, donate to the poor, and - above all - pray.

"If a person fulfills the obligation to fast and to pray five times a day, he is considered a pious Muslim," explained Ali Ghazzawi, the imam at the Association of Islamic Charitable Projects' mosque at 44th and Walnut Streets.

But to go beyond the core obligations during Ramadan brings "special merit," said the Lebanese-born Ghazzawi, on hand that evening to participate in the special salah, or prayer, known as Tarawih.

Uttered at night and only during Ramadan, Tarawih (tadda-WEEHKH) is a recitation of the complete Quran over the course of 30 days.

"Every night, we say about one-thirtieth" of Islam's holy book, said Ghazzawi, who also teaches physics at Dobbins-Randolph Vo-Tech High School in Philadelphia.

After the maghrib, or recitations and prostrations of sunset prayer, about 50 people - half of them children - descended to the mosque's basement dining room for barbecued chicken, sweet potatoes, and string beans.

Only some would stay for the night prayer that began about 9:15, and fewer still for the nearly hour-long Tarawih that followed.

"It's very beautiful, and rewardable," said Hana' Hishmeh, 22, who explained that "in the hereafter, we are rewarded for our good deeds," and that to recite the Tarawih was the equivalent of "thousands" of good deeds.

Although an esteemed ritual for the world's one billion Sunni Muslims, Tarawih is not practiced by the minority Shiites, who view it as a false understanding of Muhammad's intentions.

According to tradition, Muhammad entered a mosque one night during Ramadan to recite portions of the Quran. Seeing him, a crowd gathered to pray with him, and their numbers grew each night.

Fearing the faithful would suppose the recitations were mandatory - like the five daily salahs - after three nights, the prophet withdrew from praying in public and sent word that it was voluntary.

Its voluntary aspect is part of its attraction for Ra'id Abu Malik, 33, who arrived at the mosque shortly before 9 p.m.

Fetching a plate of dinner for his small son, he then stood facing east at the side of the dining hall to recite the maghrib while there was still time.

After bowing, prostrating, and sometimes kissing the floor, for about 12 minutes, he joined his son with a plate of food. He was staying for night prayers and Tarawih, he said, "because, personally, I like Tarawih."

A convert to Islam at 17, Malik said he was observant, but did not feel he does enough. "I'm lazy," he said, and laughed.

Ramadan is a time to redeem himself, he explained, and perhaps acquire the discipline of prayer. The daylong fasting "softens my heart," and the deep absorption he feels praying Tarawih leaves him feeling "better, lighter" - and more disposed, he hopes, to expanding his prayer life after this year's Ramadan ends Sept. 19.

Like Malik, most people at the mosque said they genuinely enjoyed the daylong fasting of Ramadan. "The first day, you feel a bit hungry," said Maryam McClain, 9. "But once you get used to it, it's very, very easy."

"It's amazing," said Omar Dimachki, president of the Association of Islamic Charitable Projects in North America, whose wife had just brought him a small handful of pills. "I have diabetes and hypertension, and Ramadan is my best month of the year."

Shortly after 9, there was a call to prayer, and the remaining handful of worshipers made their way to the domed sanctuary, slipped off their shoes, and lined up side-by-side at the front of the cavernous, carpeted room.

About 20 men and teens stood in the front rank. Five women stood a dozen feet behind them. All recited the 'Isha, or mandatory night prayer, and then settled into the Tarawih, led by an Arabic-speaking prayer leader.

Instead of proceeding sequentially through the Quran, group prayer leaders (like individuals at home) may select passages, which are recited in pairs lasting seven to 10 minutes, with short breaks in between.

The two lines lengthened and shortened as the hour wore on. Some people slipped away after a few couplets, scooping up their children and heading for the door, only to be replaced by late arrivers.

Then, around 10:20, the worshipers visibly relaxed. Some stood, others sat and stretched, and many began chatting among themselves. Tarawih for this night was over.

"It's like an extension of the fast," explained Abd Ghazzawi, 21, the imam's son. "Not a chore, but a very calming experience . . . a time to remember why we are put on this Earth."