The summer of 2024 gifted me an unexpected present. After over 20 years of serving as an imam, almost nearly without breaks, except for a few days here and there, I was blessed with the rare and unexpected opportunity to take a sabbatical, a word that has no equivalent in the Arabic language, and has no echo in the ears of Muslims, who mostly believe that their imams are relentless fatwa machines who never stop. This break was a much needed respite, that it couldn't have come at a better time. I took the entire family to Istanbul, and we decided to stay there for 3 months. Our kids enrolled in Arabic programs with Syrian language masters, my mom received urgently needed therapy for her arthritis, and we lived, for the first time in decades, as residents of another country, away from the churning tornadoes of Western life. Istanbul was as beautiful and mystifying as ever, with the sounds of adhan, the sights of domes, the rich culinary experience, the diverse voices and colors. It's a global, modern Muslim city with a cacophony of grit, spiritual aura, and historical depth rarely seen in any city in the world.

In the bustling neighborhood where we lived for 3 months, a burgeoning community flourished surrounding a “Jami” masjid, which constituted the physical center of that community and its spiritual heart. Day in and day out, it was the place where we prayed, attended Jumaa and met friends. The fact that the Jami, and almost every neighborhood mosque in Turkey, had a coffee shop on its campus, only made it more convenient to spend even more time in the vicinity of the transcendental spiritual vibes. More often than not, I would finish my prayers, and spend time at the coffee shop, read, write or connect with family or friends, sip on Turkish coffee and wait for the next prayer. The place would be full until closing time, nearly midnight. They served the highest quality beverages at the lowest prices compared to the surrounding coffee shops, which are ubiquitous everywhere in Istanbul. The atmosphere was always most exhilarating. After all, what could surpass the power of healthy conversations, the smell of coffee and the sound of adhan?

But one thing I began to notice, that got my mind fixated and gradually spoiled my Jami coffee shop experience. I realized that at least half of the patrons did not walk to the masjid for prayer when the adhan sounded off. They just sat there, continued on with their conversations and laughs, sipped their coffee or tea, inhaled the toxic fumes of their cigarettes, and just ignored the adhan and the masjid. It infuriated me! Why are those people just sitting there, taking advantage of this beautiful environment created by the Jami mosque, exploiting the lower prices, occupying the space, yet they refrain from giving back by at least praying in the masjid in which campus they’re enjoying their leisure? This is what kept racing in my head every time I sat there. I mean it is true that many of them did pray, and it is also true that many women perhaps had legitimate excuses not to pray, but still, the scene bothered me, so much so that I gradually realized that I preferred spending time at other far away coffee shops, whose patrons would not be subjected to my mental accusations of exploiting God’s house. 

One day, I was at the masjid coffee shop with a Turkish friend, and I expressed my frustration at this phenomenon. He looked at me with a grin, and said to me dismissively: you’re such a capitalist. For some reason, the word didn’t click for me. I didn’t comment or ask why this characterization in particular. I kept going with other conversations, and it seemed that I totally forgot his passing remark. Later in the night, as I was getting ready to sleep, it dawned on me. In response to me complaining about how the patrons of a masjid coffee shop didn’t reciprocate by praying at the said masjid, he called me a capitalist! I literally sat up in my bed and kept obsessing over the word. Why capitalist? Of all possible designations, why did he assume that my thought process amounted to being a capitalist? Why did he use an economic term to describe my commentary on non-economic behavior? What is it in what I said that was to be considered a capitalist perspective? I’m a capitalist? Never thought of myself as one. The questions kept racing in my head and gave me another sleepless night, full of musings and ruminations. 

The week went on, and the question still kept me stimulated, and slightly bothered. Why was my observation capitalist? It felt silly asking my friend why he used that term, so I figured I needed to resolve this on my own. All I was saying was that since the masjid offers that very discounted and convenient service, coffee shop guests needed to reciprocate by at least praying. Wait.. Reciprocate? Could that be it?! It gradually started to reveal itself to me. Perhaps my characterization of the situation was capitalist because I analyzed it in a transactional sense. The masjid gives me a service, and I need to give back by praying. It's a transaction! This must be it! What makes me a capitalist, in the sight of a friend who didn’t grow up and doesn't live in a capitalist society, where behavior, perception and actions are inadvertently shaped and defined by the capitalistic, transactional mentality, was that I see everything through the lens of a business deal! I was a capitalist, in his eyes, because I assumed that in return for a service, something needed to be given. I never paused in my tracks to think for a second that providing the services of the masjid and inspiring a community is an end in and of itself, even if it's not monetized. The Ottomans, and indeed the Diyanet ministry in Turkey that manages the mosques, were not stupid when they allowed people to use the services of the mosques without expecting them necessarily to pray. Being in the vicinity of the masjid, hearing the adhan, believing that their neighborhood mosques bring tangible value to their lives, were goals in and of themselves. And even if the recipient of that service did not pray today, maybe they’ll pray tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then next year, and if they never prayed, then their children will pray, and if that didn’t happen then at least they maintain and preserve their Muslim identity and impart that wherever they go. Regardless, the broad Islamic objectives of the Ummah are met. It’s pure brilliance. 

But then I asked myself. What is capitalism? I know that many would intuitively say it's free private ownership, competition in a free market, absence of government intervention in economic transactions, and other such inaccurate definitions. But what is capitalism, really? Why the ism at the end of the word? Capitalism essentially is the ideology of making profitability the goal of all things. It's when the accumulation of capital becomes the end of all economic activity. Money making efforts are not serving other purposes, such as financial sustainability, building communities, supporting one’s family, saving for a rainy day, preparing for retirement,  or taking care of one’s kids. Making money, and then more money is the goal, and nothing else. In the absence of any incentive to build wealth, a capitalist would still try. There is no milestone to reach or marker to observe. It's a never ending undertaking. Making money is always a good thing, and the more, the merrier. It's an effort that doesn’t have reason or justification. It serves no other end but itself. Why make more money? Because why not? And there is absolutely no idea that ever visited the human mind that was more dangerous than this! Indeed, the capitalist spirit of entrepreneurship inspired human creativity and triggered innovation, but it left our minds filled with the faulty programming that there should be no particular goal to our human economic efforts, because there’s always more money to make. And the consequences were far-reaching. 

Exactly how pervasive is this ethos? I started asking myself. The answer was ominous. It is so pervasive that it’s become ubiquitously unnoticeable. The more something becomes so widespread that it's practiced by everyone, all the time, it becomes, paradoxically, imperceptible. Every day, every one of us lives the capitalist spirit, and practices it, without ever thinking about it. We all work so hard to make money, and after we reach our goals, guess what’s next? Start planning to make more money. After we get the coveted promotion, we need to start dreaming of the next. After you get the nice apartment that you were waitlisted for, it takes a few months before you start lusting for the nicer and bigger one. After you acquire the big house, there is always a bigger house to start looking forward to. The two nice cars you already have are not enough, because there’s always nicer ones to crave. A particular investment can offer you a really decent ROI? Well, there’s another one that can give you more. After selling your business and having enough cash for your family that can set them up for generations to come, should you settle and enjoy the leisure of life and live off of your savings? Of course not. The money needs to be reinvested because it can’t just sit there. And the list goes on.

And this spirit infected even non-economic behavior. Every meal can always be rivaled by a better meal. We will always find something to complain about with our food. For every restaurant one visits, there’s got to be a better one out there. A restaurant that offers all-you-can-eat buffets has to be better than one that doesn’t offer unlimited food, and it doesn't matter that the capacity of the human stomach remains the same. Everyone is looking for a better device, better sex, better looks, and a better experience. Even on vacations, people cram their days with activities instead of enjoying the leisure, which is what a vacation is supposed to be about anyway. Why settle for one shirt if I can get another one for free? And it doesn't matter that I don’t need another shirt at this time. If I can get my child to graduate early compared to all the other kids, then why not? If I can pay for a subscription service that gives me unfettered access to movies and entertainment, why should I resist it? And it doesn’t matter that the hours of the day are not going to increase to accommodate these changes. If I’m able to sign up for the credit card that grants me the maximum points, I’d be stupid not to go for it. Women at a younger age used to be maidens in the strict sense of the word. They desired to look beautiful and attractive in order to get married to the most qualified suitors. After they’d achieved this, they were perfectly fine accepting being mothers and wives, taking care of their families, and focusing on their domestic responsibilities. Beauty fell slightly lower on the list of priorities. After they reached older age, they enjoyed being matriarchs, imparting wisdom on their grandchildren and inspiring their extended families. Today, with the uncontrollable spirit of capitalism? Women would rather be maidens forever. They conduct plastic surgeries, dress immodestly, and act like they’re 17, even though they’re in their upper 60s. And the reason is simple: if technology affords me an opportunity to stay pretty forever, then why not? The philosophy is simple: Why settle for less if I can get more? 

It gradually started to occur to me how the capitalist ethic governs and dictates the way we think about work and life, including the realm of religious activities. If the masjid offers a discounted service such as coffee, then guests need to give back by praying at said masjid. I give your kids a good Sunday School program, you give me fees in return. I offer you a good Jumaa Khutba, you offer me donations. I organize a good Ramadan iftar for you, you have to give me back in the form of attending Taraweeh! I offer the youth a basketball hoop, they have to offer me enrollment in the youth program. And the list goes on. Everything needs to be monetized and every “transaction” needs to be profitable. I can’t even remember one time we had a meeting with our team at the mosque about upcoming programs, activities or events, without us thinking of creative ways to make that program or event “profitable”. Of course ultimately no one wanted to make money for themselves, just a source of revenue to support the work of God’s house, but those honorable intentions don't make the relationship any less transactional. Everyone wants their place of worship to be bigger, better, and grander. It needs to offer all services and with the utmost perfection. We need to have the biggest fundraising events, the absolute best speakers, the most mesmerizing Qaris, the largest number of enrollments, and the highest number of programs. Even the manner by which we conduct our acts of worship is transactional and purely capitalistic. Worshipers are always looking for “seasons of forgiveness” when the divine grants “clearance sales” and the rewards are multiplied. We engage in the mention of God, not necessarily to honor God, but to accumulate more good deeds enough to “buy” our ways into heaven. And whenever possible, we do more, in order to get higher levels of heaven. After all, why not take the “premium package” whenever possible? 

And how did this spirit leave us? Callous, insensitive, and opportunistic. All life pursuits are now inspired by and subjected to the rules of the capitalist spirit, whether we do that intentionally or not. And this is undeniably associated with our mental health crisis. We enjoy excess in every aspect, but we are more miserable than ever. Why? Because back in the day when we used to set goals for ourselves, free of the endlessness of capitalism, we felt happy and fulfilled once we reached those goals. The marker served the purpose of giving us closure, and with that came satisfaction. Of course we always started new endeavors, but they were intentional and purposeful. Capitalism took that from us. We now have no end in sight. No mile-markers to tell us that the job is done. We put effort for the sake of putting effort, and exert for the sake of exertion. Everything needs to be bigger and better, and for no particular reason. And when this is the case, the soul never finds any fulfillment, so we’re always deprived, always impoverished, and always indignant. No amount of past effort was satisfactory, and no amount of future effort will be, so where does that leave us? More depressed and anxious than ever before. 

Am I suggesting that we need to work less? Exert less? Or Excel less? Would we be happier if we did little? The answer is obviously no. Ghazali talks about how “If prophethood was something to pursue, it would be foolish not to.” The Scriptures animate us into purposeful action. Ihsan, or excellence, is always a noble pursuit. But the key word here is purposeful. Our action in pursuing “more” needs to be disciplined and intentional. It's not wrong to pursue more wealth, as long as you know why. It's not wrong to receive more degrees or have more friends or buy more clothes, as long as when asked by the Creator, you’ll know how to reasonably respond. There has to be an ultimate goal. They’ve even taught us euphemisms that complicate our condition and deepen our troubles. We’ve been taught sentences such as: Just enjoy the journey! Carpe Diem! Hakuna Matata! Sure. I’d love to enjoy the journey and stay in the moment, as long as I know where I’m going and where I’m headed, that even my moment of leisure is purposeful. 

It seems, thankfully, that there is a Quranic antidote to endless capitalism, and a cure for the defrauded souls it leaves in its wake. God says: 

مَنْ عَمِلَ صَـٰلِحًۭا مِّن ذَكَرٍ أَوْ أُنثَىٰ وَهُوَ مُؤْمِنٌۭ فَلَنُحْيِيَنَّهُۥ حَيَوٰةًۭ طَيِّبَةًۭ، وَلَنَجْزِيَنَّهُمْ أَجْرَهُم بِأَحْسَنِ مَا كَانُوا۟ يَعْمَلُونَ

“Whoever does good, whether male or female, and is a believer, We will surely bless them with a good life, and We will certainly reward them according to the best of their deeds.” Quran 16:97. But the صَالِح Salih, is where the secret lies. Salih is righteous, pious, good, sublime and Beautiful. But it also means valid, sustainable, fitting and orderly. The deeds that lead to a happy and good life are not just righteous, they are orderly, and they can only be orderly if they serve an end goal and have a purpose. This is it then! The way to still grow, excel and achieve things without getting caught up in the entanglements of capitalistic dogma is to just be intentional. It's as if the most famous hadith in Islam can now be read in a different light:

إِنَّمَا الأَعْمَالُ بِالنِّيَّاتِ وَإِنَّمَا لِكُلِّ امْرِئٍ مَا نَوَى

"Indeed, actions are but by intentions, and verily, every person will only get what he or she intended." (Bukhari.) 

It's not wrong for people to benefit from their masjid, even if they don’t give in return right away. Allah’s houses are beacons of light and sanctuaries for the lost. People finding their way and attaching themselves to their community is the goal, not profitability. The Turks were not wrong when they encouraged people to utilize the services of their mosques, because they’re not transactional capitalists. The goal is to keep folks connected to the Deen, and therefore other sources of funding are needed to sustain God’s houses, such as endowments. 

More on the Awqaaf in another essay inshaa’ Allah.