The Clergymen and Religious Vulturism – Why it pays to De-commercialize Prayer
It was interesting participating in the national webinar on Tabligh (religious outreach) organized by Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamaat, Nigeria earlier today. Although, toward the end of the 5-hour national programme, a respected lady walked into the premises of my office at the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamaat mosque, Lokoja, Kogi State, and so, I had to come out of the mission house to meet her. “I am Mrs. Yakub. We’ve just parked into a building in the neighbourhood and I’m directed here to make an enquiry whether a daily Qur’anic class for children is being run here,” she said after our initial exchange of greeting of peace. “Yes,” I answered, and further gave her some details about the school, adding that though we’d temporarily shut down due to the Covid-19 lockdown but hoping to resume soonest. Impressed, perhaps, by the short introduction I made about the school and the missionary activities of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community and service to humanity, she further asked me whether there is an organized class for adult women. She explained that she’s an ex-Christian who has just recently converted to Islam and deeply interested to learn more about the Islamic faith and practice. The sound of the words “ex-Christian” and “new-convert” really prompted a wave of impetus in me such that after responding to her enquiry in the affirmative, I briefly made some remarks on the peaceful teachings of Islam and how it has nothing to do with terrorism, killing and violence. She, too, corroborated with some impressive comments on Islam and particularly told me how she’d found her way to the fold of Islam. During our conversation, this respected lady who belongs to Ebira extraction of Kogi State let me know that her eldest child, a 9-year old girl, has been battling with some congenital anomalies that have rendered her dumb and cripple ever since birth. She mentioned how she’d taken the girl to various hospitals across various states of the federation but to no avail. More particularly, she related how, as a distressed mother desperate for whatever could cure or whoever could heal her child, she was taken by two of her siblings to their pastor who owns a church in Lagos for prayer and miracle, possibly. Unfortunately, however, instead of encountering a church of solace for her, she was disappointed finding herself in what could best be described as a ‘business center’ where the pastor, whom her younger sisters had earlier glorified to the high heaven, was only engaging in a sheer commercialization of prayer as a means of religious vulturism for materialistic ends. “You are going to pay a sum of one hundred and twenty two thousand naira,” she quoted the self-styled man of God as billing her. “But, what is that for, sir?” she asked. Justifying, the pastor replied that the amount is “for both the holy water and anointing oil.” With a disenchanted facial expression, she instantly whispered to her sisters of her readiness to leave. “My inner spirit doesn’t trust this pastor,” she thought within. But the enchanted sisters stubbornly tried to persuade her to play along. They entreated that, although they’d anticipated nothing less than a disapproving reaction from her, but she’s got no option other than to give the pastor a trial. Unconvinced, she rose and walked out; leaving behind only a vain promise that she will come back to the pastor. She said she further warned her sisters that if they don’t desist from going to the pastor, he was going to milk a hell out of them. But the obdurate sisters foolhardily persisted, and not until they’d fully paid the price before they eventually left the church for another. Ending her narrative, she remarked how, to her dismay, the practice of commercializing prayer has become rampant in our contemporary time among many of the clergymen across various religions. “Yea, you’re right,” I said concurringly, and went ahead to relate similar cases I had gathered. I told her that, just the way she’d walked into my compound, one Mr. Onimisi, a Muslim youth, had recently come in and related to me a similar experience he’d had from such kind of clergymen, an Imam, in this case. As he entered my office and we began to converse, he told me that he’s come to join the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. “That’s an interesting and inspiring decision,” I exclaimed impressively. Conversing further, however, my intuition beaconed at me to ask him what had inspired this decision of his. So, I asked, “Could you, please, tell me why you’ve decided to become an Ahmadi Muslim?” Responding, he told me that two things had influenced his decision. Firstly, his negative experiences from the way Islam is being practised in his place. The second reason is that through his recent attendance of Friday services at the Ahmadiyya mosque here, he’s been exposed to the pristine teachings of Islam being preached and practiced by Ahmadiyya. Narrating some instances of the previous disappointing experiences he’d had with some Muslim clergymen, he said once he and his friend both went to an Imam in his hometown for prayer. On being welcomed, they complained of their continued joblessness in spite of their qualifications and persistent searching for job and then requested him to pray for them. To their surprise, the Imam did not waste time before billing them. “Each of you will have to pay a sum of ten thousand naira,” he told them. He said, although he received this with a negative impression, yet, he still felt he need not bothered too much by it anyway. However, what next was a conversation that lasted for some minutes as they continued to negotiate the price. “Please, could you kindly reduce the price for us?” “We’re extremely lacking financial means; even we’d had to borrow the transport fare we paid to come here,” they begged. Trying to concede to them, the Imam asked how much they can afford. They said they would appreciate if he could collect three
