Lent and Ramadan: A Shared Journey for Queer People of Faith

For the first time in 30 years, Lent and the Muslim season of Ramadan began on the same day. These two periods of fasting and interior renewal shift their starting dates each year. In 2026, Lent began – in many traditions – on February 18 with Ash Wednesday, and Easter will fall on April 5. Ramadan also began – in many traditions – on February 18 and Eid al-Fitr, the feast that marks the end of Ramadan, will be on March 19. As Catholics know, Lent is the 40-day period (plus Sundays) in preparation for Easter. It echoes the 40 days Jesus spent fasting in the desert and is observed in many Christian traditions. Ramadan is the month of the lunar Islamic calendar (Hijri) dedicated to fasting and prayer, commemorating the revelation of the Qur’an, the holy book for Muslims, to the prophet Muhammad.

For queer Catholics and queer Muslims this coincidence of timing offers an opportunity to reflect on the differences and commonalities between not just their faiths, but their experiences as LGBTQ+ people in religions that are not universally welcoming to them. 

To find some answers about what this special overlap means for LGBTQ+ people, Bondings 2.0‘s Elisa Belotti interviewed two people: Ari T. Anello (she/they), a Catholic activist in Italy involved in intersectional feminism and the LGBTQIA+ movement; and Majid Capovani (he/him), an activist based in Italy whose syncretic faith brings together Islam and, through his Egyptian heritage, Kemetism, a modern practice of the religion of ancient Egypt.

Elisa:  Ari, what does it mean for you to live Lent as a queer Catholic?

Ari T. Anello

Ari: Being queer deeply shapes my journey of faith even if the voices of many Christian people who condemn LGBTQ+ people of faith are still very loud. A few months ago, during a regular moment of reflection and prayer that brought together visual art, music, and writing, my spiritual director offered an image that has stayed with me. He spoke about a crumpled paper bag. The paper bag is a metaphor for my identity: as it fills with my experiences, it swells and forms folds, which are the wounds accumulated along the way.

When a crumpled paper bag is illuminated from the outside, its shadows become much more visible. I choose instead to illuminate my folds from within. They are still there, but they become less noticeable and allow me to see the folds of others more clearly. The light represents the way I choose to use my gifts, including empathy, which during Lent I try  to cultivate so that I may become, as St. Francis’ prayer states, “an instrument of Your Peace.”

Perhaps this change of perspective is the meaning of Lent.

Elisa: Majid, what does it mean for you to live Ramadan as a queer Muslim?

Majid Capovani

Majid: It means having the opportunity to connect more deeply with the most sincere parts of myself. Every Ramadan brings a new discovery of how my queerness draws me closer to the divine, and how queerness and faith can enrich one another, and help me to move beyond every blaming interpretation that, fortunately, I have never embraced. Allah knows every soul deeply, and each person has their own unique way of establishing a relationship with the sacred, especially through the characteristics with which they have been gifted.

Verse 5 of Surah Ash-Sharh (The Relief) found in the Qur’an says: “So, surely with hardship comes ease”. For me, especially during Ramadan, this means that despite hate and external judgment, my queerness can become the strongest bridge and intermediary with what is divine and holy.

Elisa: Ari, what has your journey been like as a queer Catholic, and how does that shape the way you live Lent today?

Ari: I’m very close with a youth pastoral care group called  Policoro Project, an initiative promoted by Italian bishops to help unemployed or underemployed young people from Southern Italy to improve their working conditions. Through this connection I have experienced a real sense of welcome. Although I don’t have queer friends or Catholic friends in my area – something I deeply feel the need for – I still  feel free to live my Lent journey because I’m not alone, but surrounded by the familiar faces of this ministry

At times a sense of guilt still resurfaces, a legacy of my Catholic upbringing, but it is softened through the constant dialogue with my Catholic chosen family. Being queer is part of my identity, a neutral trait among the many that make me who I am.

In the first years after my coming out, I felt caught between two pressures: on one side a queerphobic Church, and on the other some queer people who infantilized or blamed me for being Catholic. At times it felt as if I were running away from myself and from God. But then God came looking for me, drawing near through different believers, not always Catholics. Now I can finally live Lent with both intensity and serenity.

Elisa:  Ramadan often focuses on looking at some of our own faults. Religion has often condemned queer people as being total sinners. Majid, how do you maintain a positive self-image while looking at your faults?

Majid: Despite the homobitransphobia that is unfortunately still very present in many religious communities, I have never considered being a queer person a sin, nor have I ever felt like a sinner because of it. I believe that, at least in my case, this is largely due to my syncretic faith. For example, Kemetism, the modern version of Egypt’s ancient religion, does not consider queerness something that falls within what we commonly define as sin.

I have sometimes received homobitransphobic remarks from people who would remind me of the story of Lot and the town of Sodom But I support the interpretation that what is condemned in those passages is not homosexuality, but rather rape and violence against guests. Moreover, whenever the Qur’an speaks about bonds of love, it always describes love between souls. Nowhere does it state that this must always be between a male and a female.

I often hear people say that the nature of queer people is a test from Allah, and in a sense I agree with that, but with an important difference. It is not a test directed at queer people, nor is its purpose to push us toward repression or self-hatred. It is a test for society, for culture, for the people around us, to see whether they are capable of choosing love and harmony or whether they will instead give in to hatred, placing themselves on the same level as Allah when it comes to judgment.

Only the divine, however, has the role of ultimate judgment. To place oneself on that same level,is truly arrogance, and that is what I would call sin.

Elisa:  Lent and Ramadan began on the same day in 2026. Ari, can this coincidence become a chance for shared spiritual growth and interreligious dialogue between Catholics and Muslims?

Ari: Saying at the same time “Happy Lent” and “Ramadan Mubarak”, which means “a blessed Ramadan,” made me notice the reactions on the faces of believers who are, in fact, siblings to one another.

Realizing that most likely half of the global population is fasting during this time, even if in different ways, made me reflect more deeply on the wealth of the few, and on the famine and starvation caused by wars and so-called conflicts. I truly hope for mutual listening and communal solidarity among populations oppressed by the interests of the powerful.

Elisa: Majid, What does fasting mean to you? Why do you do it?

Majid: For me, fasting means entering a dimension where temporary deprivation becomes a way to draw closer to the divine and to come into deeper contact with it. It is not only a physical fast, but above all a spiritual fast from everything that is superfluous.

Allah is ar-Raḥmān and ar-Raḥīm (the Compassionate and the Merciful) and by fasting in God’s name we ourselves have the opportunity to learn compassion and mercy. Even if only for part of the day, we experience what it means to be deprived of something vital like food and water. This practice allows us to place ourselves alongside those who lack these things not by choice, but because of injustice.

The struggle against injustice begins first with awareness and understanding. By drawing closer to the divine through fasting, we also move closer to a stronger desire to act and improve the realities around us.

Across the world, the fasting for Ramadan and Lent is already creating concrete moments of encounter. In many cities, mosques and community groups organize open iftars – the evening meals that break the Ramadan fast after sunset – inviting neighbors of different faiths to sit at the same table. In cities like London, interfaith iftar gatherings bring together Muslims, Christians, and others for reflection and conversation. In other contexts, Christian and Muslim leaders have also chosen to pray together during this overlapping season, emphasizing how fasting, prayer, and charity are shared spiritual practices that can strengthen mutual understanding and peace.

So I find it very beautiful that two of the largest communities of believers in the world are fasting together for God right now. This is a sense of siblinghood that overcomes every symbolic border that humans have drawn.

–Elisa Belotti, New Ways Ministry, March 10, 2026