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Moonshot [Part 27] – Everything You Love
Deek builds his new financial team, explores a riverfront property, and shares a moment of brotherhood with Imam Saleh. But is it enough?
Previous Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13| Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26
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Abu Huraira reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the unbeliever.”
– Sahih Muslim 2956
Lying in bed that night, trying to calm himself enough to sleep as a thousand thoughts whirled through his mind, Deek could still see it as if it were yesterday. The prayer rugs rolled out across the living room floor, the faint scent of oud lingering from his father’s sabha beads. Deek – eight or nine years old at the time – sat cross-legged beside little Lubna, the cool tile pressing through his thin cotton pants. Mama leaned against the sofa and smiled, while their father sat with his back straight, palms on his knees, eyes bright with knowledge and love.
“Children,” his father said, “in Jannah, there is no pain, no sadness, no hunger. There is no death. Everything you love will be there, but better.”
The words no pain, no sadness had washed over him like a lullaby, but the rest of it—everything you love will be there—that was what set his imagination alight.
In his mind, Jannah was him and Marco with every game they ever wanted to play. A perfect baseball diamond that stretched to the horizon, gloves that never tore, bats that never cracked. Two gleaming BMX bikes waiting by the fence line. Skateboards with the latest urethane wheels and endless smooth pavement to ride. No homework, no chores, no one calling them in before sunset. Just open sky, the smell of grass, and all the time in the world.
He could still hear his father’s voice that evening, low and certain: “And the greatest joy is that Allah will be pleased with you. You will never fear again.”
Years later, when Deek had his own family, Jannah meant something else. It was a place where Rania would be free of pain. Where he and Lubna could talk without pride rising like a wall between them. A place where Iraqis of all faiths and colors lived together in peace, where the Palestinians were victorious and free, and where no child ever cried from hunger.
And Marco—always Marco—would finally find himself there. He would know what he was meant to do, and he would live without the gnawing anxiety that had shadowed him all his life. There would be music and laughter, not in smoky bars but in the gardens of Paradise, where the rivers flowed not with liquor but with mercy.
Now, older and slower, Deek no longer pictured Jannah as a guarantee. He knew better than to assume his own worthiness, or to imagine who might be kept out. Faith had softened into humility. But maybe—just maybe—he and Marco would enter through the same gate, side by side, into that lush, forgiving world. A world free of poverty and loss.
A world where the joy of youth never ended.
The next morning he logged onto the dashboard Zakariyya Abdul Ghani had given him, and was stunned to see that the job was done. All the outstanding medical bills had been paid. Deek hadn’t expected that. He’d imagined a few of the bills would be caught in bureaucratic limbo — an unreturned call, a missing invoice — but when he logged in to check the account, every item was reconciled, paid, and neatly logged in an online ledger.
He called Zakariyya to confirm, and the young man’s soft voice came through, calm and assured. “Yes, sir. I pulled a few all-nighters. I sensed your urgency in wanting it done quickly.”
That was enough for Deek. He drove straight to the office under the flight path. The same faint scent of cardamom greeted him when he walked in, the same rattle of glass from the window as a plane passed overhead.
Zakariyya stood from behind the desk, surprised. “Mr. Saghir. I didn’t expect you—”
Deek waved him down. “Relax. I’m not here to check your math.” He pulled a chair closer, sat, and leaned forward. “I’m here because I need someone like you. I’m setting up a family financial office. You’ve shown me you can handle pressure, and you don’t miss details. I want you to run it.”
The young man blinked. “Me? I’ve never done anything like that. I’m barely out of college.”
“You’re young, but that’s fine.”
He remembered a time years ago, when they’d done a remodel on the house and Deek had hired a twenty-three-year-old Iraqi immigrant named Fadil to run the job. The boy could barely speak English. Rania had thought Deek was crazy. But Fadil had a degree in civil engineering, experience as a tradesman, and had to start somewhere. He’d done the job well, and within a few years was running his own small construction firm. Fadil still called every Eid to say thank you.
Deek smiled faintly at the memory and added, “Sometimes taking a chance on a young person pays off.”
Zakariyya adjusted his glasses, clearly thrown off balance. “How much money do you need to manage?”
When Deek shared the figure, Zakariyya sat up very straight and whistled, then added, “MashaAllah, I mean. But sir, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” Deek replied. “How much are you making now?”
The young man hesitated. “Fifty thousand per year.”
“That’s respectable. But I’ll triple it. One hundred and fifty, plus benefits, plus performance bonuses. You will search out and recruit the team.”
Zakariyya stared at him, speechless. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he repeated softly.
“Say bismillah,” Deek said. “And get started. Find an office space — one without planes overhead, please. Then let’s start with an accountant, an investment analyst, and an office manager. A legal advisor, but not full-time. Also, a Shariah compliance officer, but again, a consultant, not full-time. That last could be a remote position if we don’t have anyone local. I might have a few people in mind for other positions. I’ll keep you posted.”
A plane roared overhead, and the windows rattled again. But this time, Deek didn’t even flinch.
As he stepped out into the parking lot, the late afternoon light turned the pavement gold. He felt steady, almost serene. For once, he wasn’t patching holes or running from fires; he was building something that might last. Not just wealth, but order. Not chaos, but continuity. The only other thing he needed was his family. He had to find a way to cross this barrier, which was feeling more insurmountable every day.
The River HouseStanding outside Zakariyya’s office, Deek’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a message from Marcela Gómez.
I have a property for you. When are you available?
He typed a single word: Now.
A moment later, her reply appeared.
Meet me in half an hour. I’ll send the address.
The address dropped into his messages: a location he didn’t recognize, somewhere on the edge of the city, close to the river.
The road wound through farmland and low bluffs before ending at a half-finished driveway that curved uphill toward a skeleton of steel and concrete. The structure sprawled across the ridge — modernist lines, concrete, and pillars — but most of it was bare framing beneath a vast unfinished roof. Tall grass and weeds grew where floors should have been. A blue porta-potty leaned on its side, sun-bleached and cracked.
Marcela was already there, her SUV parked near a temporary construction trailer. She waved as he pulled up.
“Mister Saghir,” she called, “what do you think?”
He climbed out and took it in. The roofline was elegant, almost soaring, but the space beneath it looked more like a ruin than a home. “What am I supposed to do with this? Sleep under the stars?”
She laughed softly. “It’s true that it’s only ten percent finished. The builder ran out of money and walked away. But look at what you get — fifty acres of riverfront land.”
She pointed east. Through the tall grass, Deek could see the San Joaquin River glinting like hammered silver. Cottonwoods and valley oaks lined the banks, their leaves flickering in the breeze. Sprays of orange and red poppies illustrated the hillsides, making the scene look like a painting. The air was crisp and clean, though as he inhaled deeply, he caught the faintest whiff of skunk, which made his nose wrinkle.
“Down there,” she said, “are old trails that lead straight to the water. You could hike, fish, build anything you want. To find riverfront land in Fresno is almost impossible. This is a miracle waiting for money.”
Deek raised an eyebrow. “A miracle that needs plumbing and walls.”
Marcela gestured toward a small stucco cottage tucked near the tree line. “There’s a caretaker’s house. One bedroom, kitchen, bath. All finished. You could live there while the main house is built.”
He stood in silence for a long moment, surveying the land. The wind carried the scent of dry grass and river water. Somewhere below, a hawk cried.
Marcela folded her arms. “Don’t look at what it is,” she said. “Look at what it could be.”
Just Like That“Alright.” Deek turned to her. “How much?”
“Six million dollars. I bargained them down from seven, and it wasn’t easy. You said not to bother negotiating, but I am Colombian; it’s in my blood. I would have felt like an idiot taking their asking price. I could maybe – maybe – get them down to five five, but it wouldn’t be easy.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
Marcela’s face went hard. “It’s a good price for this property. The question is, are you serious or not serious?”
Deek raised one arm in the air, fist pointing to the sky. “Six million it is. I’ll take it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Just like that? You’re not kidding?”
“Just like that.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “You don’t hesitate, do you?”
“It’s worked for me so far.”
“The sale still has to go through escrow,” she said, handing him a small key ring. “But that’s a formality. These are for the caretaker’s house. You can check the place up -”
“Check it out.”
“That’s what I said. Check it out, hang out, even sleep there if you like. Might be best not to move your stuff in until escrow goes through, though.”
He took the keys. The metal was warm from her hand.
He hesitated, then added, “Marcela, I want to talk to you about something. I’m building a family financial office — investments, property, all of it. I want you to run real estate acquisitions. Homes, apartment complexes, whatever makes sense.”
She considered. “Actually, Mister Saghir, commercial real estate is where the profit is right now. Fresno is full of empty buildings — offices, strip malls. Oversupply means we can buy low. If you want income, that’s where it is.”
Deek smiled. “Then you’re the one I need. Come on board.”
Marcela tilted her head, half-amused, half-intrigued. “You don’t waste time.”
Deek held his palms up to say, “What’s the word?”
Imitating Deek’s decisive gesture, Marcela Gómez shot an arm into the air and declared, “I will think about it!”
Deek laughed. “Fair enough.”
The Caretaker’s HouseAfter she drove away, Deek wandered down the slope, the tall grass brushing against his jeans. He reached the edge of the ridge where the land fell away to the river. The sun was high now, painting the world in gold and shadow. It reminded him of his childhood vision of Jannah: grass, a river, and time to play. Though he and Marco were not children anymore, they hadn’t played any sports together in a long time.
Below him, the water moved slow and heavy, glittering with light. Cottonwoods swayed, and red-winged blackbirds flashed through the reeds. A blue heron stood motionless in the shallows. The air was warm and thick with the smell of river mud and wild fennel.
Deek sat on the grass, watching the heron lift off in a single, slow beat of its wings. He took out his phone, snapped a photo of the river stretching wide and calm, and sent it to Rania.
He waited. The screen stayed dark. No reply.
He pocketed the phone and kept watching the water. The wind came down from the hills, rippling the grass around him like the surface of the river itself.
The caretaker’s house was smaller than he expected — smaller, in fact, than his hotel room. One narrow bedroom, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a stand-up shower. No bathtub. The place smelled faintly of pine cleaner. Someone had left a few personal items behind: a chipped coffee mug, a paperback novel with a cracked spine, and a faded baseball cap hanging on a nail by the door.
The walls were rough plaster, the furniture plain but solid — a table, two chairs, a firm sofa. It was clean, though. That counted for something. He could live here. He’d lived in worse.
He opened the windows. Warm air drifted in, thick with the scent of wild grass. There was no AC unit, only a ceiling fan that ticked as it spun.
He wandered through the back door and discovered a small patio he hadn’t noticed before — a slab of concrete shaded by a vine-covered trellis, with a built-in barbecue facing the river. From here, he could see the water shimmering between the trees, slow and drowsy under the midday sun.
He pulled out his phone again. Still no reply from Rania.
He stood there for a while, listening to the wind and the distant call of a jay, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.
The Hoops at Masjid MadinahHe couldn’t bring himself to go back to the hotel. Instead, he drove to Masjid Madinah.
The air inside the masjid was cool and smelled faintly of carpet and rose water. After the prayer, Imam Saleh clasped Deek’s shoulder and said, “You look tired, brother. Come outside for a bit.”
They stepped into the parking lot, where a cheap basketball hoop and backboard were bolted to a rusted light pole. The asphalt was cracked, the rim slightly bent.
“Come on,” the Imam said, tossing Deek a ball. “Let’s play a few rounds. It’ll clear your head.”
Deek chuckled. “I’m not very good.”
“Neither am I,” the Imam said, already dribbling. “Bismillah.”
Twenty minutes later, Deek was bent over, panting, sweat running down his temples, while the Imam sank another shot with effortless grace.
“I thought you said you weren’t good,” Deek said, hands on his knees.
“I said neither of us was good. But you’re worse.”
They laughed. The sound echoed across the empty lot.
Still catching his breath, Deek nodded toward the hoop. “You ever think about putting in a proper court?”
The Imam shrugged. “There are a lot of things we’d like to do. But this isn’t Masjid Umar. This community isn’t wealthy.”
Deek wiped sweat from his forehead. “How much would it cost? Not just for a basketball court but everything on your wish list — masjid expansion, classrooms, basketball court, whatever you need.”
The Imam stopped bouncing the ball and tucked it into his side. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the traffic on the main road nearby.
“Brother Deek,” he said finally, “you’re not the community piggy bank. I don’t want you to start seeing me that way — or for me to see you that way. I value you as a friend, and as a member of the community. That’s all.”
The words struck Deek harder than the Imam’s best shot. He nodded slowly, touched in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Understood,” he said. For the first time in a long while, he felt something like belonging. It occurred to him that this feeling of brotherhood and companionship was a tiny glimpse of Jannah, where such feelings would be universal, and loneliness would be a thing of the past.
“You and your family,” the Imam added. “You’re all welcome here.”
At that, Deek’s momentary feeling of contentment collapsed in on itself. Did the Imam know of his family situation? Was he giving him a message?
Deek suddenly felt very tired. He shook the Imam’s hand and trudged to his car. Loneliness might not exist in Jannah. But Deek lived on earth.
***
Come back next week for Part 28 inshaAllah
Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!
See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.
Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.
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Continue reading...Damn your feelings (but mind ours)
Maccabi Tel Aviv fans singing one of their favourite chants (source: 5Pillars). The saga over the Aston Villa versus Maccabi Tel Aviv football (soccer) fixture next month revealed a lot about how far our political establishment will go to defend Israel and to spare the feelings of its supporters. There has been a campaign to get the match called off, on the grounds that Israel is a genocidal state which should be treated as a pariah, as is Russia currently, for the past few weeks but last week the local Safety Advisory Group (SAG) recommended that MTA’s fans should not be allowed to travel to the game on the grounds that there was a strong likelihood of violence if the fans’ past record is anything to go by: picking fights with local Muslim minorities and singing offensive and racist songs (albeit in Hebrew, but they are not the only ones who understand Hebrew). They have, in short, a major hooligan problem and there was no guarantee that they would not get into, or start, a fight with Birmingham’s large Muslim community. The advice attracted scorn from the entire political class; it was accused of at best caving into antisemitism and at worst actual antisemitism; my former MP Ed Davey, leader of the Liberal Democrats, opined that the way to oppose antisemitism was not by banning its victims. Meanwhile, the reaction from many of the Tories and parties further Right was to accuse the SAG of being afraid to offend Muslims, and accused local Muslims of being a threat to the visiting fans rather than the other way round.
Over the course of last weekend, events took several turns until the Israeli club announced that it would not sell tickets for the match to their own fans, which would mean there would be no MTA fans at the match. A man claiming to be the leader of Aston Villa’s own “Jewish supporters’ club” turned out not to be Jewish at all and the fan club turned out not to exist. Stephen Yaxley-Lennon then announced that he (and a bunch of his supporters) would turn out in support of the tourists; a derby match between MTA and another Tel Aviv side, Hapoel, had to be cancelled on advice from local police after riots inside and outside the stadium. The latter left a lot of politicians with egg on their faces; the former prompted the fake Jewish fan to change his position, calling for the match to be held behind closed doors with no fans, as had an earlier MTA fixture with a Turkish side (held behind closed doors in Hungary). Still, politicians continued to link the decision to bar the MTA fans to antisemitism, alleging that they never just banned away fans for this reason (not true), only when the away fans are Israeli, and brushed aside concerns about hooliganism, repeating claims that the violence in Amsterdam last year was a pogrom against them by local Muslims, ignoring reports from local police that the fans were violent and racist as well. Others were wringing their hands over our supposed admission that “Jews aren’t safe in Britain’s second city”, despite the fact that Jews live in Birmingham and travel there every day, and other teams with associations with the Jewish community (e.g. Tottenham Hotspur) have played there many times with no trouble, nor any reason perceived to ban them. The fact that they are Jewish, or that Israel is a Jewish state, has nothing to do with why locals do not want this group of fans in their city.
My solution would have been, instead of a game behind closed doors with no fans at all, to hold the match in a stadium away from Birmingham, fairly close to an airport if possible, where the fans could be bussed from the airport to the match, and then bussed back and flown out as soon as possible after it ends. This way, both sets of fans get to see their team play and antagonism to the local community is kept to a minimum. Two possibilities that spring to mind are the stadiums in Reading and Milton Keynes — both large, both within easy reach of Birmingham for Villa’s fans and within easy reach of Heathrow airport (and in MK’s case also Luton airport) for the Israeli fans, and crucially neither in residential areas where locals could be subjected to major inconvenience or antagonism.
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Our political and media class are so devoted to Israel right now that they are willing to ride roughshod over local people’s feelings to allow some of the worst of them to come to the UK and roam around for several days, something which would not be allowed for a team from anywhere in Europe with such a record (and was not allowed for our fans when British hooligans were a major problem in the late 1980s and their behaviour contributed to a fatal disaster). With all the talk about whether the MTA fans were safe, and whether the police could police the match and the journey to and from it effectively, nobody seemed to be asking whether it was justified to impose any level of inconvenience on local people just so that a group of fans with a history of racist violence, from a country still engaged in an orgy of war crimes, could go to a football match. This would have affected everyone, but it was Muslims and Arabs (or anyone perceived as such) who were at particular risk from their behaviour, and this did not matter to politicians and the media, but all the while we see hand-wringing about how “Jews are not safe” because Israeli thugs are told they are not welcome, and indeed any time a strident criticism of Israel is made in a public forum. Sod everyone else’s feelings, but watch you mind theirs.
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Continue reading...Will it hold?
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The Cowley Branch railway line in Oxford will reopen with new stations in Littlemore and Cowley, which the Treasury said would support up to 10,000 new jobs.
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Lab, Con & LibDems today all agreed the decision by Weds Mids police to ban the Jewish fans is wrong, disgraceful etc, but nothing they can do because ‘operational independence’. Only Reform UK will change the law to put the police under the control of elected politicians.
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The Expansion Trap: Why Mosques Are Struggling Despite Fundraising
Masjid leadership in the U.S. often have sincere intentions to do what is best for their community. However, when faced with the choice between funding an expansion or investing in human resources, leadership frequently falls into what I call the Expansion Trap. This trade-off usually centers around accommodating the larger crowds that gather for Jumu‘ah, Taraweeh, and Eid prayers. Though these decisions are made with good intentions, they often lead to empty prayer halls, overworked staff, and the mismanagement of funds. To understand why this often occurs, we must first delve into the inner workings of the decision.
The Drive for ExpansionAt first glance, expansion feels like the most natural choice. A mosque’s primary purpose is to provide space for worship, so what better use of funds could there be than to welcome more believers in prayer? Additionally, expansion projects are highly visible and celebrated within the community. They serve as a symbol of “progress,” reflecting how success is often measured culturally by physical growth. While the outcome is tangible and exciting, it often comes with hidden, long-term consequences that weaken the very mission the masjid was built to serve.
The Question of CompensationThere is also the idea that those who work for the mosque should remain humble and not expect substantial income from mosque funds. Instead, people are encouraged to work for free for the sake of Allah ﷻ. After all, what deed is better than one done sincerely for the sake of Allah ﷻ?
The Core DilemmaThis raises the question: to what extent does that justify fundraising for expansion, especially when the rows of the mosque remain empty during the five daily prayers? Furthermore, how can volunteers dedicate themselves solely to serving the mosque if doing so creates a financial deficit in providing for their families?
Masjid Expansions: Counting the Costs
“Years go by collecting funds, sometimes from frustrated congregants, while the mosque remains empty.” [PC: Bayu Prayuda (unsplash)]
Let us first consider the reality of expanding the mosque to accommodate more worshippers during Jumu‘ah and the nights of Ramadan. Expanding the mosque leads to more overhead expenses for the mosque on a monthly basis. At the same time, the mosque is left empty for 25 out of the 30 days of the month. When a seasoned Mufti and Imam was asked about this disparity, he advised that our priority should be strengthening the community within the mosque by reviving a genuine concern (fikr) for the effort of da‘wah and practicing it in depth. This is not to say that accommodation and expansion should not be considered, or that they are not relevant or important. Rather, the argument is about where to place expansion on our priority list. If a mosque were to procure $250,000 over the year, how should that money be spent—or, in this case, in what cause should it be spent primarily?Choosing to pursue an expansion project comes with significant trade-offs—massive budgets, long fundraising periods, and increased overhead expenses—making it one of the most common bottlenecks and financial pitfalls that mosques face, all while the daily rows of the mosque remain underutilized. You can’t meaningfully expand with just $200k. If expansion is pursued, it often means going all in—and suddenly the fundraising budget jumps from $250k to $2.5 million. Years go by collecting funds, sometimes from frustrated congregants, while the mosque remains empty.
The mosque’s primary focus often becomes raising and allocating funds for expansion, while everything else takes a backseat. One example is a mosque that raised over $2 million in a single week, yet allocated only about $70k for all its youth expenses for the entire year—including compensation for the youth director and the full cost of programming. That’s a mere 3.5%. These same mosques often voice concern about empowering the youth, yet their actions continue to fall short.
In reality, the mosque sets itself on a financially unfeasible path, always playing catch-up, and often bearing an unfinished look for years due to ongoing construction. If you feel like I’m describing your mosque, you’re not alone—many mosques in the West follow this approach. But if we truly want to be effective with our resources, we must ask: Is it practical? And is it justified?
Investing in People, Not Just PlacesAn Imam, meanwhile, is expected to manage and lead the community, while not sponsored for a single management training seminar that would equip him with the skills to do so. For active and dedicated members, the message becomes clear: the mission has more to do with what appears in the sight of the public than with what truly impacts the public.
Examples like these are not just common, but in fact represent the better end of what we are dealing with as a society. Focusing primarily on expansion may seem like an exciting vision for the mosque’s future, but the trade-offs carry severe long-term consequences.
Allah ﷻ says:
‘The mosques of Allah are only to be maintained by those who believe in Allah and the Last Day, establish prayer, give zakah, and fear none but Allah. It is they who are expected to be rightly guided.’ [Surah at-Tawbah;9:18]
In other words, the true maintenance of a mosque depends on the quality of the Believers behind it—those who fear Allah and strive to carry out what is most beneficial for the community.
This brings us to the real priority: human resources. There are two areas we must rethink—how we fundraise for human resources, and how we compensate them fairly. While funds are being raised, dedicated members, employees, and workers of the mosque often remain underpaid—or worse, not paid at all. The notion that expecting compensation for work done for the mosque is shameful (‘aib) is unjustly imposed. The proper balance is this: those serving the mosque should not make extraordinary demands for compensation, while those in charge must provide sufficient funding to support them in their livelihood.
The word sufficient is key here, because too often mosque boards live comfortably—even lavishly—while imposing a so-called “sufficient” lifestyle on their dedicated employees, leaving them barely above the poverty line, if not worse. Furthermore, those in charge often fail to invest in training and resources for the very Imams and staff who serve the community, since funding is reserved almost exclusively for expansion projects. And so we come full circle: the mosque’s facilities are expected to advance, while its dedicated members are left behind.
This is not to say that no work should be done solely for the sake of Allah ﷻ. Volunteering keeps us grounded and sincere—but it is best suited for those already financially independent, like a congregant with a stable career who offers his time after work to clean the mosque or organize programs purely for Allah’s ﷻ sake.

“While funds are being raised, dedicated members, employees, and workers of the mosque often remain underpaid—or worse, not paid at all.” [PC:Masjid MABA (unsplash)]
Dedicated employees, however, should not be expected to give their all while being underpaid. Our salaf often maintained a side income for stability, and that same wisdom holds true today. Providing Imams and staff with a fair salary—while allowing them space to earn modestly on the side—is both healthier and more effective for the mosque and its mission. That same member can now choose to go above and beyond their specified hours by volunteering for the mosque—not as part of their salary, but purely for the advancement of the mosque itself.Truth be told, everyone who is part of the mosque carries a genuine and noble intention to contribute to the larger mission of da‘wah. Rare is the case where someone gets involved with the mosque for personal gain—because in reality, there isn’t much personal gain to begin with. In this sense, it is a pleasure and an honor to witness the hard work, the blood, sweat, and tears of mosque board members, Imams, and dedicated community members at large. We are all in it ultimately for the pleasure of Allah ﷻ.
A Warning for the FutureHowever, that same zeal and passion for doing good can sometimes blind us to the real consequences we may be incurring for our community. If mosques continue to expand without first strengthening their core members, it is only a matter of time before they follow the path of many churches—where congregants come only once a week. Over time, that presence dwindles until the mosque becomes nothing more than a place to visit, like a museum, eventually abandoned and sold off, just as many churches have been in our own time. What is most alarming is that some of this pattern is already beginning to creep into our mosques.
On the flip side, imagine a mosque that, though not grand or extravagant, is filled to 20–30% of its capacity on a daily basis. Congregants return regularly for weekly programs that foster brotherhood and sisterhood, making the mosque a true hub of community life. It becomes a safe haven—a place where people are guided by a motivated Imam who nurtures their spirituality, supported by a well-organized team of volunteers providing meaningful Islamic programming for brothers and sisters of all ages.
Solutions: Building Stronger MosquesTo create sustainable mosques, we can:
- Prioritize Human Resources: Allocate the largest share of funds to staff such as Imams, youth directors, and secretaries before considering major construction projects.
- Provide Professional Development: Invest in leadership and management training for Imams and staff so they can lead effectively.
- Fair Compensation: Ensure mosque employees and the Imam receive fair, livable salaries that allow them to focus on serving the community without financial strain. Their standard of living should reflect the average lifestyle of the community they serve.
- Balance Between Paid and Volunteer Work: Encourage volunteers who are financially stable to contribute their time, while ensuring dedicated employees are paid for their roles.
- Measured Expansion: Only expand when daily attendance and programming consistently exceed current capacity.
- Transparent Budgeting: Clearly communicate how funds are allocated so the community understands and supports the priorities.
Each of us in a community has a role to play, and each role must be supported differently. If we make human resources the primary focus of mosque funding—particularly Imams, secretaries, youth directors, and others—we can empower these individuals, ignite their spirituality, and shape the mosque into a second home not only for its dedicated members but for the wider community. With strong and effective members in place, a larger congregation will naturally follow, along with more successful and impactful programming for the mosque.
The future of the Muslim Ummah in the West depends on how we strategize our priorities within our sacred spaces. Every year, either a new mosque opens or an existing one announces plans to expand. Alḥamdulillāh, the financial and economic standing of our communities has improved—especially with the emergence of second- and third-generation Muslims. It took us decades to reach this point. Now that we are here, we must tread carefully and strategically. It is vital that we invest in human resources, provide flexibility for our most dedicated members—such as Imams—and focus on developing Believers, not just blueprints.
May Allah ﷻ accept the efforts of everyone striving in the path of da‘wah, forgive them and their families, and unite us all together in His Eternal Gardens.
Related:
– What Is An Imam Worth? A Living Wage At Least.
– Selecting Members For Masjid Boards: Ideal Muslim Leadership
The post The Expansion Trap: Why Mosques Are Struggling Despite Fundraising appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.
Muslim women do not need saving, says female leader of mosque at centre of charity run row
East London Mosque received hateful emails after event for men, boys, and under-12 girls only – but organisers say women’s race was undersubscribed
A female leader at a British mosque accused of excluding women from a charity run has said women in the community have a voice and do not “need saving” by critics who lack an understanding of Muslim values.
East London Mosque, in Tower Hamlets, found itself at the centre of a media firestorm and received dozens of hate mail messages after staging the Muslim Charity Run, open to “men, boys of all ages and girls under 12”. The communities secretary, Steve Reed, later said he was “horrified”.
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