Life has a way of making us question traditions and practices, especially during emotionally charged moments like the loss of a loved one. Recently, I lost my dear niece to cancer, and as her family, we laid her to rest in our hometown of Rembau. The days that followed were both a time of grief and reflection, but they also brought to light some unsettling realizations about the role of the mosque committee and the customs surrounding death in our Malay Muslim community.
For context, in Malay Muslim culture, it is common to hold Tahlil gatherings for the first three days after someone passes. This practice involves reciting prayers and zikir for the deceased. However, I recently learned that this particular tradition isn’t something that was encouraged or even practiced by the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). If that’s true, it raises an important question: Why are the mosque committees, who are supposed to be the torchbearers of Islamic knowledge, not aware of this? And if they are aware, why does the practice persist?
Misplaced Priorities
One of the most disheartening experiences I had during this period was hearing a complaint that we, the grieving family, didn’t serve food to the imam properly during the Tahlil. It left me speechless. We were navigating immense sorrow, and yet, instead of offering understanding, there was a fixation on how food was presented. Shouldn’t the focus have been on offering comfort, prayers, or simply being there for the family?
It also came to my attention that, according to Islamic teachings, it’s actually the neighbors who should step forward during a time of loss, bringing food and offering help to lighten the burden of the grieving family. Yet, the reality we faced was almost the opposite. Instead of being supported, the family felt demands being placed on them—demands that seemed out of place in such a vulnerable moment.
A Broader Issue in Mosque Culture
This experience has made me question the dynamics of mosque committees in general. These groups are meant to embody the values of community, compassion, and humility. But when politics, egos, and a rigid adherence to cultural practices overshadow the true essence of Islam, they end up alienating people—especially the younger generation.
It’s no secret that many young Muslims avoid the mosque because they see it as a place where politics and unnecessary bureaucracy take precedence over spirituality and community building. My recent experience only reinforced this perception.
A Call for Change
This isn’t meant to be a blanket critique of all mosque committees. There are, undoubtedly, many that do incredible work to uplift their communities. But it’s crucial to address these gaps and reflect on whether the practices we uphold align with the teachings of Islam.
We need mosque committees that are well-versed in authentic Islamic teachings, compassionate toward their communities, and unafraid to question traditions that may no longer serve their intended purpose. And as a community, we need to hold these committees accountable while striving to embody the values of support and empathy that Islam teaches us.
Does This Happen in Your Community?
I’m sharing this not to criticize but to open a dialogue. Have you encountered similar experiences in your community? Are there traditions or practices that don’t sit well with you, or do you see a need for reform in how mosque committees operate? Let’s talk about it—because only through conversation can we hope to bring about meaningful change.
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