Speech of Prime Minister Edi Rama at the Iftar dinner given in honor of the holy month of Ramadan:

Good evening everyone!

Dear friends, please feel truly welcomed in this space organized in honor of the holy month of those among us who belong to Islam.

I was surprised at the refusal of the invitation from a learned man, who graciously told the Protocol Office at the Prime Ministry that he was an atheist and as such he could not sit at a table like this one on this evening.

There is absolutely no reason to feel hurt by the rejection of the guest in question, but of course, it is an opportunity to reflect whether there is room or not for atheists at the Iftar dining table.

To begin, I think we all agree on the fact that if Iftar was an exclusive platform of only those who don’t doubt in the existence of God and pray to Him with their eyes turned on the vault of heaven or to the temple of their belief, wouldn’t be few those missing here tonight. I would even say that if the Iftar table excluded those who do not believe in God, it couldn’t be comprehensive for those who, unlike practicing Muslims, have their belief in God derived from elsewhere, and who seek contact with their God elsewhere and with totally different rituals.

Therefore I, who have been used to being here for some years now, initially because of duty, an later due to an inner urge, strongly believe that the fact that we gather around the Iftar table close to one another, not exclusively as practicing Muslims but as believers of different religions and, without any doubt and fear, as non-believers with the intent to respect the religious ritual of some among us, is very meaningful for a society like ours.

So, the same way, participation at an Iftar dinner beyond the borders that divide our multi-faceted camps of believers and non-believers is not only an expression of respect to Muslims involved in the admirable practice of Ramadan. This participation is also a unique opportunity to create and experience with people very different among them in their stubbornness or humility to God, a space of sincere coexistence, of a valuable experience and open exchange. It is a special spiritual atmosphere the one created in a temporary space such as this one, when the immediate reason that has people gathered together is only apparently an imposition or obligation to formally consider practicing Muslims. Because intrinsically, this space is a very special opportunity to use the freedom of being different and equal in the respect for each other, precisely because we are different.

Some of us have come here after a long day without any food and water. Others have come as at the usual dinner at the end of the day. Another one did probably remember at the last moment that he was invited at a dinner and rushed to be on time. After dinner, some others will continue the fasting ritual with its unusual times until the day of Eid. While for some of you here, the story of this year’s Ramadan begins and ends among these walls.

But these differences do not at all make the Iftar dining table unnatural. On the contrary, they make it more beautiful because, after all, everyone is fed not just by what is on the table, but by what circulates in the air of this space, which conveys something different, not only through the words exchanged. For example, and I say it without fear of being wrong, even a hardened atheist like Filip Çakulli, who can entertain himself and the people sitting at the same table with him, as always and with anything, generously making fun of this ritual, will not remain unaffected, although unconsciously, by the positive energy of the dining table of this evening.

Indeed, the most beautiful thing of an open Iftar, even for Filip or even for others who, just like him, recognize only themselves as God, is the fact that Iftar saves room for everybody, just as it has something to give to everybody, in addition to the place where they sit and the dishes they have in front of them.

One of the Quran’s first words, just like the setting of the Iftar table, is actually an invitation. This invitation says, just like Saint Augustin, who was initially an atheist, then agnostic, and finally a believer, but without ceasing, until the last moment of his life, to be a philosopher, a free thinker, an eternal lover, once said: “Read!”

In the books we read what is written on paper. In an Iftar we read through the presence and words of each other. For anyone who seeks the meaning of sharing Iftar’s food and time among practicing Muslims and other believers or non-believers, this moment is like a guide.

Read in the fundamental book of this fraternal ritual that you are welcomed here and always. It is written in the Quran: “If your Lord had so willed, all the people on the earth would have become believers. Would you, then, force people until they become believers?” And it is not for a soul to believe except by permission of Allah, and He will place defilement upon those who will not use reason.”

Who would believe, especially in these turbulent times for mankind with regard to religion, if one did not read in black and white that the Koran forbids you to force people to believe? Indeed, those who do not use reason and prevent others from reasoning are warned by the Quran that they will be punished.

Where better than at this table can we talk among people who argue without impeding others’ reason in a time so confused, where we are experiencing horrors that occur in the name of a religion, which is actually very far from being the religion that prevents coexistence in reason, and which is not at all the ideology of the crazy barbarism on its behalf?

“There is no compulsion in religion. Then whosoever will, let him believe, and whosoever will, let him disbelieve”.

Quran says so, and it feels so good here today, listening at the sound of these words, even us non-practicing Muslims sitting together with them at these tables which, not quite by chance, we have named after countries that have a paramount importance in the history of Eastern civilization, where the Islam world laid later its foundations.

One of the tables is named after Palmyra, the monumental center of an ancient civilization at the crossroads of trading routes of different beliefs, where the combination of Greco-Roman architecture and engineering with Persian influences and local traditions is now being undermined by a gang of ISIS terrorists, while we are attending this Iftar. After executing a group of Christians within the ancient ruins of Palmyra, those terrorists are preparing to execute with dynamite the ruins, in the wake of the macabre cultural cleansing that we saw happen in March in the town of Hatra, a gem of world cultural heritage on the territory of Iraq, after which another table has been named tonight.

The same as the city of Nimrud, founded 13 centuries B.C., one of the most thrilling examples of the Mesopotamian civilization, which the ISIS barbarians blew up with dynamite and razed with bulldozers on the last 5 March; the Mosul Museum with its 3500-year old statues; the Jonas shrine, known as Nabi Yunus in the Islam Community; the Mosul public library which was home to thousands of volumes of Islam history and culture; the Tal Afar Citadel, the statue of Abu Tammam, the great Arab poet of the 9^th century, have been already reduced to ashes because of the same barbarian hand.

Likewise, to ashes has been reduced today the green church of Tikrit, the 1300-year old symbol of coexistence among religions in the Middle East. Just imagine that this symbol survived the massacres and destruction of Mongol invaders in 1258, but did not survive to ISIS’s dynamite in 2014. With the same ruthless blindness, ISIS dynamited the Al Arbain mausoleum, the burial site of 40 leading figures of Islam, among whom some comrades in arms of the Prophet Muhammad.

“O you who believe, stand up as witnesses for God in all fairness, and do not let the hatred of a people deviate you from justice. Be just: This is closest to piety”, the Quran tells us.

And the practice of justice of the true believer has its roots in the recognition and protection of the right of others to not be of the same faith, the same beliefs, of the same opinion. The Iftar opened to others embodies this practice, as a culmination of the acceptance of others through the sharing of bread.

Connoisseurs of Islam are unanimous about the fact that Iftar does not break fast, whose intention would be the welfare of the body, or the pleasure released from a physical effort accomplished thoroughly with determination, since in fact the only purpose of this deprivation, of fasting, as a daily act of self-abnegation, is giving away redundancy on the altar of reason.

In one hadith of the Prophet of Islam it is said: “He whose food exceeds his needs, let him share it with his brother”.

And it seems to me that this high prescription on how a man should behave, even with the smallest excess of food, takes Islam through Iftar to the Semitic origin of deserts which, together with Judaism and Christianity, but also with early civilizations including also, why not, the traditional Albanian civilization, shares the brotherhood sworn on the food eaten together, the good-heartedness in welcoming any foreigner, the tolerance of everyone in faith, access of everyone to material goods that Creation has given to mankind and that men have entrusted with their children.

I don’t know what would have I said here this evening, had my atheist friend, who refused the invitation and excluded himself from an inclusive dining table, come and not refused to be here. For sure, I have to sincerely thank this friend who is missing, because while trying to explain to myself his refusal, I had a chance to expand my reasoning and actually find out that, whoever leaves his own place empty at an Iftar where he is invited, he leaves empty a place that is only his and no other’s, since there is room for everyone in an Iftar. Invitation to an Iftar is not an invitation to believe what you do not believe, but to not leave empty your place, even if you are a non-believer, in such a special dining table, precisely because it accepts in such simple terms the peculiarity of everyone, and guarantees that food is shared with everyone.

While I was writing this speech, being almost done talking remotely to my atheist friend who refused the invitation, I recalled a description of Islam that is found in the breathtaking pages of the “Seven Pillars of Wisdom” by Lawrence of Arabia.

“Islam is different on every continent. Stripped of metaphysical research, expect in the mystical self-judgment of the Persian devotion, he appears painted with an eternal variety in the black continent, freed from the chains of barren literalism in India, rooted in the pure monotheism of the deserts and in the form of a charitable and careful God in Arabia.”

Although without a visible unity, Islam has been able to find itself, whenever it has been able to humbly take up the binomial of faith and reason about which Pope John Paul II said that “They are like two wings that help the human soul to recognize itself and the truth.”

“Always be mindful; ask your neighbor to carry the weight he should carry and nothing else. Stick to the good that is accepted as such by your fellows. Do not have anything in common with those who have lost their reason.”

Thus, it seems that Islam has found itself in our small country, and has become a living embodiment of every prescription I borrowed today from scriptures, while it majestically stands as one of the pillars of religious coexistence. A religious coexistence that goes beyond religion, in the form of a cross religious brotherhood and, like this Iftar, embodies among the Albanians, believers or not, brotherhood and the bread shared together.

If faith is not the cradle of culture, it is simply a fraud. And to put it in the words of Dostoevsky, “if faith does not generate beauty, it cannot heal anyone”.

Well, as we share together the bread of the Iftar around tables named after beauties killed by extreme barbarity, let us cherish this moment together, in our peculiarities and despite our belief or disbelief in one God, feel the great caress of our destiny for being born and living in a land that holds the priceless treasure of religious brotherhood. It is our burden to cherish this treasure like the apple of our eyes and pass it on to our children.

I like it, dear friends, seeing you gathered here this evening, in an institutional space that has been historically closed. I like it, because it reminds me of the precious words of a wise and humble man, Omar ibn al-Khattab, the second successor of the Prophet: “Open your door to every citizen and take care of them, welcome them and obey them. Indeed, you are one of them, for God gave you only one more burden to carry.”

Thank you, and enjoy your meal!