Holy night.

It's been an interesting 24 hours...

Today was the final day of Ramadan--today, at sunset, we broke our fast for the final time. It's a slightly bittersweet evening--I really will miss the incredibly unique atmosphere of unity and reverence that pervades this country during Ramadan. "Ramadan Kareem" is the greeting during this month--"Have a generous Ramadan" is the meaning. 

And generosity is the central theme, with charities setting up posts at street-corners where people can stop and buy sacks of grain and rice to give to the poor. Restaurants serve you complimentary soup, dates, laban, and sambosik before ever taking your order. Gifts are exchanged day after day--my family has received four giant boxes of chocolates, as well as kaak (date cookies) and gift cards. 

But last night was really unique for me. After playing Uno and watching a movie, most of my family went to bed--around 12 midnight. I went into the kitchen to make batter for the crepes my family requested for the final sahoor. After mixing this up, I cleaned up the kitchen, checked my email, and brushed my teeth. By now it was about 1:45 am, and my dad was just returning from the mosque. (Imams read through the entire Qu'ran every Ramadan, one portion each night.) 

I was tired and ready for bed, but my Dad asked me to stay up and spend time with him. He was in a pensive mood...he started talking about his childhood in Palestine, about family members killed by Israeli bombs, about his father (who died in 2000)...I mostly listened. 

We talked about Islam, about what it means to him, and then he turned on the TV to a channel broadcasting live from Mecca. 

The Qu'ran reading was just finishing up. It was incredible to see the throngs of faithfuls--there were three MILLION people at the mosque last night. There were English subtitles to the Qu'ran reading--and as the Imam prayed for the believers at the end of the recitation, I watched them pray more and more earnestly--almost all of them moved to tears. 

I almost cried too. 

So many beautiful souls.

So sincere and so desirous of hope. 

I will give my life to love these people. 

As if that wasn't emotional enough...my father switched channels to a recording of a man standing on a dusty street in Jerusalem, reciting the story of Jesus as told in the Qu'ran. 

I sat next to my father and I listened to these words about the One who is more precious to me than anything. The story of how Jesus was saved from the cross by God and taken away before he could be killed---In Islam, Jesus is not an enemy, but a revered prophet--the only one who never died. 

But, for me, to take away his death is to take away everything he is. 

Oh, Jesus. History doesn't know what to do with you. 

I went back to the kitchen at 3:30 am to make the crepes, waking the rest of my family at 4:00 for our final sahoor. Afterwards, I cleaned up and walked with my dad to the gate of the mosque for the dawn prayers. 

Walking back to the house as the sky turned from dark blue to grey, with the sound of a thousand mosques echoing over the city, my heart felt it would overflow.