“This is the month of generosity,” I told my son when he refused to share some food he had brought back from iftar at his school.

“But yesterday you said it was the month of the Quran,” thoughtful and genuine — though partly, I suspect, to playfully dismantle my point.

I think my takeaway was equally off track—at least he’s registering what I say to him!

But Ramadan is so many things. Yes, it is the month of Quran and generosity. But it is also the month of salah, of qiyam, of duaa, of sharing, of kindness, and most of all striving with consistency towards goodness for an entire month so that those efforts may settle into the year ahead as natural, unforced ways of being. It is the month we dedicate wholly to Allah.

This past year or so, I have been drawn—quietly, and through no particular plan of my own—toward beautifying my relationship with Allah through a deeper understanding of His names and attributes. I have followed Dr. Rania Awad’s work for some time and it was through her that I discovered the man many may consider to be the true father of psychology: Abu Zayd al Balkhi, a Muslim scholar of the 9th century whose holistic understanding of the human mind was, in many ways, more comprehensive than much of what Western psychology would later claim as its own.

Then, about eight months ago, I was introduced to a psychiatrist who believes firmly that healing cannot occur in the absence of the spiritual. She practices grief counseling through the names of Allah. I had long believed the former, that therapy and spirituality are inseparable, but the latter was entirely new to me: the idea of Asmaa ul-Husna not merely as devotional knowledge, but as an instrument of healing. Over time, this therapist has become one of my closest friends, and I remain profoundly indebted to her for planting that understanding in me.

About a month ago, in the aftermath of a deeply unsettling event, I found myself scouring Yaqeen Institute’s website for something to hold onto. I came upon Sheikh Mohammed Elshinawy’s article on Al-Jabbar: a name I had long associated solely with divine might and majesty. I had not known that it also carries within it the meaning of healing and of restoring what has been broken. The article offered me genuine hope, and with it, another quiet push to approach Allah’s names with greater depth.

Throughout that period, I found myself being led back to these names again and again in different forms. Many years ago, I had completed a full course on Asmaa-ul-Husna, but perhaps that was simply a precursor to the time that knowledge would settle in my heart. This time, something feels different—less pedantic, more indigenous to my being. So when Yaqeen Institute unveiled the trailer for their Ramadan series, The Name I Need, something in me responded with a quiet, unequivocal recognition. Each episode explains certain names of Allah, followed by practical knowledge of how to call upon Allah in your duaa using each unique attribute to fit your individual circumstance, so that your conversation with Him becomes intuitive rather than mere lip service.

The announcement felt less like a coincidence and more like an extension, as though Allah was reaching toward me so that I might draw closer to His ma’rifa, in whatever limited capacity I am capable of. The feeling is difficult to articulate: when pieces that seemed unrelated suddenly begin to fit into the puzzle. And yet the more of that picture comes into focus, the more one understands that it boundless. The more I learn, the vaster it reveals itself to be. Yet I find myself wanting to go deeper — because with every name I come to understand, my reverence and awe toward my Lord expands.

I pray that this thirst for knowledge of His Being is perpetually transformative so that He draws me closer to Himself everyday in this world and keeps me close on the Day when all false hopes will have disintegrated and His will be our only shade.

…قٌلِ ادْعوا الله أَوِ ادْعوا ٱلرَّحْمَـٰنَ ۖ أيّا مّا تَدْعوا فَلَهُ الأَسْماءُ الحُسْنى
Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “Call upon Allah or call upon the Most Compassionate—whichever you call, He has the Most Beautiful Names.”