Omar Usman, Author at Qalam Institute

Author Archive

Case Study: 5 Important Tips from Wisam Sharieff’s Eid Khutbah

One of the things we want to do in regards to khutbahs is highlight good ones that up and coming khatibs can learn from.

The Eid khutbah is one of the most difficult to deliver, primarily because most people do not get the opportunity. As an example, I have been giving khutbah regularly for almost 10 years. It’s so long ago that I recorded my first ever khutbah on a micro-cassette recorder. Despite that, I have delivered only two Eid khutbahs (and one was this past Eid). One of the things I struggled with was finding a good Eid khutbah to use as a model – and the primary reason for that is most Eid khutbahs I found were simply too long.

The toughest thing about Eid – no one wants to listen to you. They want to get on with the party. So the challenge is, give people something meaningful, while still holding their attention.

With that in mind, take out a few minutes to watch Wisam Sharieff’s Eid khutbah from this year.

These are the important take-aways-

1. Keep it SHORT. 10 minutes, maybe 15. Anything past 20-25 minutes will cause the audience to ignore everything you have said. They won’t be listening, they’ll just be wondering when you’re going to finish so the triple-hugging can commence.

2. Keep it RELEVANT. The examples about alcohol were something everyone could easily relate to. I must also point out something important in regards to the video game and rap music references: They have to be real. By that, I mean the speaker actually needs to understand what he is talking about. Wisam obviously makes that work. An example of it not working is this: Imagine a guy with a heavy accent saying “And the boys must lower their gaze, stop the liking Hannah Montana” – you can tell that a reference was just thrown in to sound hip. Don’t do that. Instead,

3. Be YOURSELF. Wisam mentioned that a khutbah with the same message was being given by multiple imams in different localities. Does this mean that they all copied the same khutbah verbatim? No. They took a central message, but they put their own personal spin on it. That’s what made it effective. The personality and perspective of the speaker is what makes a generic message so powerful in this situation.

4. Be POSITIVE. Eid is not the time to tell people about the 300 reasons they are destined for Hell. It’s a celebration – remind people of that. We spend the entire year beating each other (and ourselves) up. The Eid message is drastically different.

5. Be FOCUSED, but be GENERAL. You have a large audience, and an audience that does not regularly come to the masjid. In fact, this might be the only prayer they make all year. This also means you have people coming from all different backgrounds. The socio-economic makeup of your masjid no longer matters, because everyone is coming out. So your message must be one that can resonate with the lowest common denominator of your crowd. Not only that, but it must be a message that can bring those people closer to Allah. That’s the general part. The Focus part of it is making sure that you stick to your core topic. Don’t get so worked up about ‘saving’ all those people that you begin to discuss 10 different issues. Pick ONE issue. Focus on it. Make it relevant to everyone. And then knock it out of the park.

The Best Skill You Can Master to Improve Your Public Speaking

When I watch a new khatīb, I notice that a lot of them tend to make the same mistakes. One of the primary ones is stumbling during their speech because they got lost. They got lost in regards to what they were talking about, or what to talk about next. You can tell because they’ll either begin to stammer, or stop speaking altogether for a few moments while they collect their thoughts.

The trick is to be to be thinking about what to say next while you’re speaking about your current point. So for example,assume you are giving a talk on forgiveness, patience, and sincerity. While speaking about forgiveness, your mind needs to be formulating what you’re going to say about patience. For someone who is not used to it, this can be difficult to master, and sometimes even harder to explain – but it can make an essential difference in the quality and, more importantly, the flow of your speech.

I learned this skill in high school (a long time ago) because I was involved in the debate team. I regularly gave what most considered to be the most difficult speech – 5 minutes to respond to 13 minutes of arguments by the other team. During a debate, there is a system by which you take notes (or “flow”) the other teams arguments. Generally, after they finish talking you take a couple of minutes of preparation time to quickly prepare your counter-arguments.

One of my teachers taught me a trick, and it radically transformed my entire approach. While the other team was making their arguments, instead of writing down what they were saying, I was instead immediately writing my responses to their arguments. This meant that as soon as their 13 minutes finished, I immediately stood up for my 5 minute rebuttal speech without any preparation needed. A lot of practice at this actually changed the way that I think and analyze. It also enabled me to quickly formulate points in my head further ahead in my speech, even though I may be talking about something else.

For the longest time I did not know of a way to actually teach anyone how to do this, until I ran into an article at chrislocurto.com entitled, ‘How to Speak Gooder.’ He details an easy way to start training your mind in this manner,

Many people struggle with public speaking. For years I’ve helped other people improve their speaking, and there is one issue that always pops up – the inability to think while speaking to a group. What I mean by that is, you get so focused on what you’re saying, or what your script is, that when you mess up, you have nowhere to go. This also has a tendency to create the um’s, and uh’s that so many speakers insert into their talks.

When I started public speaking 16 years ago, I had to deal with this issue as well. It frustrated the daylights out of me mainly because I didn’t want to look stupid standing in front of a group, frozen, not knowing what I was supposed to say next. So I did what I always do, I figured out a way to not do that.

I started asking myself what I could do to train my brain to think in that situation. So I came up with a little brain exercise I now teach to every speaker, or future speaker, I work with. I start by looking around the room to find an object to speak about. Once I pick an object, I start talking nonstop. I quickly find that I am unable to consistently speak about that one object. So I don’t. I change the object quickly in my mind and start talking about it, and then another object, and then another.

As I continued this exercise, I was able to train my brain to think of where I was going, instead of where I am. This also gave me the ability to continue “filling space” with words while I was trying to figure out where I was in my script. Once I remembered it, I would find a place to get back on track. Sounds crazy, but it worked. The more I practiced, the more I was able to think on the fly while speaking.

Khatīb Diaries: Fundraising Requests

This is the first installment of what will hopefully become a new series on khateeb stories. What sets this apart is that the average guys like you and me go through a completely different set of experiences than Imams/scholars who give khutbahs. And that is namely because we don’t get the “shaykh treatment” – we get the “we can walk all over you because you’re a volunteer” treatment.

One of the most annoying things about giving khutbah is the incessant fundraising requests. At your local masjid, it is understandable, but what about when you are just a guest khatīb? My contention is that a fundraising request is one of those things with the most propensity to ruin a good khutbah. I proffer the following situations (which actually happened to me).

Mega-Masjid

I was set to deliver the orphan child khutbah (otherwise known as the 2nd or 3rd jamat for overcrowded masjids – you know, the khutbah where anyone with a beard and a thobe can get up and talk and the board doesn’t even care). Before going up, someone asks me to solicit funds for the masjid at the end of my khutbah. Normally I would argue, but I decided it was not worth the hassle and I would throw in something.

This happened to be one of those khutbahs where I got fired up, lost myself in the moment, and felt that I gave one of my better khutbahs (I don’t remember the topic, but it obviously wasn’t humility). After ending on a high note, and completing the closing supplications, I was about to announce the commencement of salah. And then I caught myself. Before I could, I had to say,

Oh.. uhhh… and the masjid requested you to donate something

So what was accomplished? My wonderful khutbah ended on a lame and annoying note. And on top of that, I doubt anyone was actually encouraged to donate any money as a result of this announcement. Would it be better to skip the announcement, and then lie if asked about it?

Established but Smaller Masjid

This one is unavoidable. As I get ready to stand up on the minbar, I get handed a sheet of paper and simply told, “for the end of your khutbah brozer.” It’s a half sheet of typed announcements. I tuck it behind my notes and think nothing of it.

I finish the khutbah (again on a high note), and then see that piece of paper. “oh … uhhh… hold on” And then I proceed to read about 5 announcements. 3 of them about parking, one about fundraising, and the last one was probably something important about family or kids or something, but I can’t remember now.

Again, effective? No. But that’s just the way it’s done, so the masjid did it.

Start-up Masjid

The comforts of the rented store-front, where expectations are practically zero. It’s where you can deliver an average khutbah and still feel like Siraj Wahaj. During this fleeting moment after salah, I got blindsided. The uncle making announcements (an elder, and father of a friend) gets up and says, “…and now Br. Omar will speak a few words.” It took me a second to realize he meant I was going to speak a few words in support of this masjid [to which this was my first visit] and raise funds.

I have never fundraised. Ever. Fundraising takes a special type of personality and charisma – neither of which I have. Completely flabbergasted, I said a few words in support of the masjid and their Imam (a friend) and sat back down in about 10-15 seconds flat.

Solutions???

The obvious one is this: Masjids, do your own fundraising. Stop putting khatībs on the spot.

But when you get stuck, what do you do? So far I have found only one solution.

Picture dinner at the house of a hospitable family. You eat a full meal and dessert. But the host begins to insist that you take more dessert even though you’re full.

“Come on, come on, one more,” they say while putting it in your plate. You keep politely declining and pulling the plate away. If you know urdu, think of takalluf.

You need to treat the fundraising request the same way. And remember, you have the power of the minbar.

One time a board member handed me a sheet of announcements, and told me to read it at the end. I smiled and said, “no you.” And he looked confused, then smiled back and said, “No, no, you have to read this at the end of the khutbah” and I smiled and said, “No, no, you have to read this after salah” and then I got up on the minbar. Discussion over.

I don’t like having to do that, but it seems to be the only way out of making a disingenuous announcement, and also zapping the energy out of your khutbah.

Appeal to Khateebs – Breaking My Wings

I recently came across an excellent article by Marwa Aly entitled Breaking My Wings. It provides a reflection on Juma that many of us have felt – attending with high hopes, with a need for spiritual rejuvenation, only to be left standing at the altar. I initially wanted to post a few relevant excerpts, but the entire article is a must-read, so I have pasted it here below with some brief comments after:

It is with a saddened heart that I write this post. I have been writing and gathering material for khutbas at Wesleyan and Trinity for the past three years. I have trained brothers on how to deliver the khutba and offer guidance on the Arabic pronunciation. Sometimes I really love the khutbas that I write. Other times, I feel the need to be nourished and want to hear another’s voice- another’s words. So, you can imagine the expectation I have when I finally find the resolve to take my 13 month old daughter with me to Jumua’ prayers at the masjid. In a hurried rush to get everything in order (sippy cup, blueberries, wipes, diapers….oh yea, and my keys and phone) I accidentally forget my wallet but decide while driving that I would miss too much of the precious khutba if I were to turn around now. I would continue on making the dua’a of the traveler and praying that a police officer does not pull me over.

Sumaya and I ended up parking very far so I wouldn’t get stuck trying to get out of post Jumua’ gridlock. I carried my little munchkin and as we cut through the palpable humid air, my spirits were beginning to rise. Yes, this is exactly what I need after a tough week. As we entered the masjid, I took off my shoes, offered salaams to women I did not know and made my way up the stairs to the women’s section. The athaan began to resound against the walls and I wondered how familiar Sumaya was by now with the inflections and rhythm of the melodic call to prayer.

Taking a toddler to Jumua’ is no easy task. One needs an arsenal of distractions, in order that others may not be distracted by Sumaya’s need to talk over the khateeb. The khutba began and I could instantly tell that this wasn’t what I was looking for. The khateeb was speaking about dhulm (oppression) and the various ways we can oppress. While this may have been a timely topic, I was so discouraged by the style. I felt patronized and I surely did not go to my beloved masjid to be yelled at. You see, my dear khateebs, life is not easy. There are moments everyday that we struggle to be good. We have the option to relax, but with our heads bowed down we plow through. We plow through the desires, the dirty diapers, the incessant whining, the burnt toast, and the sticky humidity. There are moments that we fail, we fail miserably actually. Our fuse too short, our struggles too shallow. I know that and I bet my fellow brother sitting far away knows that too. And so, what I need from you, ya khateeb, is to allow me to leave the masjid inspired. I know it is not easy to inspire. It is much easier to shout. And you too will have your off days. Maybe you won’t be able to inspire me, but if you can’t do that, then maybe you can leave me with some hope. You see, even during my summer vacation, I look forward to Fridays and the weekend. I look forward to becoming the person I ultimately envision myself to be- and shouting at me for trying- well, I just can’t accept that. I need you to tell me the stories of Muhammad, Yaqub, Musa, and Mariam. We all have a story to tell, but you are the ultimate storyteller. Every Friday when men are obligated to listen to you, you have the ability to transform their lives- with a dose of sheer will power here, Divine guidance there, and the feeling that successful indeed are the believers, always. Give us the opportunity to feel our mini-ascensions with Allah.

And if still you cannot do that, please do no harm- the harm of turning away a brother on the brink of giving up his faith, or the sister that has seen religion break up her family.

My dear khateeb, as Muslims living in America, we need to be tough everyday. We put our best foot forward in the workplace and the grocery stores. We lower our gazes when we just want to take our family to the park. We have built a tough exterior as we hear the false statements accepted as truth about our beloved religion. And so, each step we take towards our masjid, every shoe that fits inside the cubicle, every sajda that is made on the carpet floor sheds our armor. Our armor is so very heavy. Allow us, if you will, for those few beautiful moments as your listeners to feel weightless.

Allow me to fly. If you cannot, I beg you, please do not cut off my wings.

Once you become a regular khateeb it’s easy to lose sight of the basics. Standing on the pulpit of the Prophet (saw) is a trust between you and your Lord. You have a duty to convey a message that brings the congregation closer to Him. A message that inspires them and motivates them to want to be closer to Him.

A khateeb must also be well acquainted with the struggles that all Muslims face on a daily basis. As Marwa said, we have to be tough every day. The kids getting made fun of at school, the guy who just lost his job, the husband and wife who just had a fight, the parents who are frustrated with their teens, the youth struggling to live right – all are in the congregation. Tailor your message accordingly. Be uplifting, be welcoming, make things easy for the people and invite them.

The Most Essential Advice About Giving a Khutbah

If you are a khateeb, you should read this just before delivering your khutbah. Every time.

Jabir informs,

“When the Prophet delivered the khutbah, his eyes became red, his voice rose, and his anger increased as if giving a warning to the enemy.” … it should be an organized speech that the people can understand. It should not be a speech, which is over the heads of the people, nor should it be shallow or contain foul language as that would defeat its purpose. Its words should be chosen carefully to make them attractive and meaningful.”

Giving his views on the subject, Ibn al-Qayyim says,

The khutbah of the Prophet reinforced the fundamental articles of faith, like belief in Allah, the Exalted, His angels, His books, His messengers, and the meeting with Him. He would mention the paradise and the hellfire and what Allah, the Exalted, has promised to His devoted servants and the people who obey Him and what Allah has promised to His enemies and the miscreant. While listening to his khutbah, the hearts would be filled with belief in Allah, His oneness, and His majesty. His khutbahs were not like speeches of those who speak only of matters of concern of common folk, lamenting earthly life and frightening people of the approaching death. Such speeches cannot inspire faith in Allah or strengthen belief in His oneness or move people by allusion to His mighty works in history, nor can they kindle in hearts intense love for Allah, making the listeners look forward eagerly to the time they will meet Him! The people who hear such speeches gain no benefit at all, except that they will die and that their wealth will be distributed and their bodies will be turned to dust. Woe to such poets, what sort of faith is fostered by such sermons, and what sort of tawhid do they teach or knowledge disseminate? If we study the khutbahs of the Prophet sallallahu alehi wasallam and his companions, we find them embued with perspicuous guidance, tawhid, attributes of Allah, explaining the basic articles of the faith, inviting people to Allah, and drawing their attention to His providential care that makes Him so beloved to His slaves. His khutbahs referred to Allah’s dealings with others in the past so as to wam his listeners against His wrath and exhort them to remember Him, thank Him and win His pleasure and love. Those who heard these khutbahs were inspired with the love of Allah and they looked forward eagerly to meeting their Lord. As time went by, the example of the Prophet was forgotten and other things prevailed. The main purpose of the khutbah was forgotten. The eloquent and nice words that moved the hearts became rare in speeches. The main thrust of the khutbah was neglected. The hearts were no longer touched and the basic purpose of the khutbah was lost.