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As a weekend Ramadan Retreat drew to a close yesterday, the thought that stayed in my mind was that it was just what the doctor ordered. Though one fellow was heard muttering that it was just a social gathering — perhaps anticipating a hermit’s flight — for me ‘retreat’ indeed summed it up. For it was for me a retreat back to a living faith, from the empty ritualism that had come to characterise it and the stagnation that followed on. We drove up to Leicester straight after work on Friday night, breaking the fast in the car on the way and remained until just after dhuhr on Sunday afternoon. In just a day and a half I felt uplifted and inspired, my faith renewed. Uplifted and inspired by the companionship, by the beautiful recitation of the Qur’an at night, by prayer in congregation, by the messages delivered by each speaker — of forgiveness and social duty — by the sense that we have a purpose. I haven’t felt that way for a long time. The lull that had descended like a cloud shrouding the sun — that feeling that I was caught in a trough from which I could not escape — lifted. I am not in ecstasy, not on a high — the frown remains, the regrets still present — but in my heart is peace. And on my tongue, repeatedly, Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah.