Al-Qalam
July 2004

Often, when I travel out of South Africa, I am struck by how differently Muslim communities in different places perceive the role and importance of the mosque and their place within it. There are numerous mosques – especially in the West – where the culture has been flexible in attempting to accommodate the context and the circumstances of the congregation.

Recently, I was reminded of this when I performed my jumu’ah salah at a mosque in London. I want to reflect on this and a few other interesting examples from my experience that is related to this kind of flexible culture.

As I walked into London’s Finsbury Mosque – whose imam was recently arrested for allegedly inciting hatred – I was caught in a flood of people leaving. I turned to my companion apologetically. As a traveller I could skip jumu’ah but he needed to pray it, and I had delayed us both. He indicated that it was ok, leaving me wondering whether he routinely skipped his jumu’ah. ‘We’ll get the second jama’ah,’ he said.

Second jama’ah? The last time I remember that happening was when I was at university and circumstances forced us to have two congregations. But, sure enough, there was a second jama’ah, with a different khatib and imam.

Feeling less guilty, I waited for the khutbah. Unfortunately it was in Egyptian Arabic and I resigned myself to not understanding it. But, as the first khutbah ended and the khatib sat, I suddenly heard – from somewhere in the front – a 10-minute English summary of the khutbah. Only when that was finished did the khatib stand up and begin the second khutbah. This I hadn’t seen even in my student days!

Most mosques that I’ve been to in North America, Europe and some parts of Africa have the khutbah in the local language (together with Arabic), something not yet acceptable in most South African mosques.

And when I deliver the khutbah in South Africa, I’m used to dressing in a particular way; it’s expected. But I have felt out of place at certain mosques outside South Africa went I went to deliver my khutbah kitted out in jalabia and headgear, to discover that jalabias and headgear was not the norm.

I have been to mosques where the minbar is not at the front of the mosque but to one side. And the congregants turn around to face the minbar when the khutbah is being delivered. And many mosques have high minbars with about 20 stairs before the top.

Lest I be accused of romanticising foreign mosques and their khutbahs, however, let me add that there are also mosques that are as constraining (if not more) than most South African mosques. Where the mosques are virtually restricted for particular ethnic groups, where khatibs spend their time on the minbar slandering fellow Muslims, or speak in languages foreign to their jama’ah, or put the congregants to sleep. But we can discuss that in another column.

South African mosques, of course, have more than our fair share of excitement and creativity: sometimes funny, sometimes serious, sometimes innovative, sometimes frustrating.

I remember the first time that a woman spoke at the jumu’ah at Johannesburg’s Masjidul Islam. The mosque committee was willing but it seemed they felt the need to protect themselves from accusations that they were creating an innovation, especially after the violent response to the 1994 jumu’ah lecture by Amina Wadud at Cape Town’s Claremont Main Road Mosque a few months earlier.

So the mosque engaged in a clever sleight-of-hand. Or perhaps I should say ‘sleight-of-time’. The speaker was Saleha Mahmood, editor of the UK-based Journal for Muslim Minority Affairs. She began speaking at the normal time for the pre-khutbah talk. However, the first adhaan was delayed until after her talk.

Hence, the mosque coordinator reasoned, she didn’t really speak during the jumu’ah period but before jumu’ah and hence no one needed to be unhappy. (Let us ignore for a moment that the ‘first adhaan’ is itself an innovation (bid’ah if you will).) Of course, these days women speakers speak between the two adhans at Masjidul Islam. And no one complains.

I liked what Abdulkader Tayob said in an Al-Qalam column about Amina Wadud’s Claremont Main Road Mosque lecture. It was the first time in South Africa that a woman had spoken for jumu’ah. He called it a ‘pre-khutbah talk in a pre-khutbah-less mosque’. The mosque, you see, does not have pre-khutbah talks but has its khutbahs in English (with some Arabic). But on this occasion, in order not to be accused of having a woman deliver a khutbah, Claremont Main Road too introduced a bid’ah.

A recent Bahraini visitor to the mosque commented how he had enjoyed the khutbah because, he said, the khatib and the congregation were ‘interacting’. He referred specifically to the occasions when the khatib cracked jokes and the congregants responded appropriately – and sometimes loudly. It was the kind of spirit, he said, which was lacking in many Arab mosques.

Perhaps if such creativity and flexibility were used in the form and content of the khutbahs delivered in our masajid, we would have more people wanting to listen to the lectures rather than timing themselves so that they arrive just before the jumu’ah salah begins – deliberately missing the khutbah.

You are welcome to send an email if you wish to contact Na'eem Jeenah
Last updated: 07 September 2007