Why Are So Many Khutbahs So Bad?

I mean, unless you know where Yajuj and Majuj are

I hate that I have to write this. But then again I don’t really like that, forty-five years into my life, I still genuinely fear for what I’ll find come Fridays. Some khutab (Friday sermons) are great. In fact, a lot are brilliant. But some of them are worryingly bad. Does it have to be that way? Through the ImamConnect platform, I’ve started to offer public speaking courses, including for Friday Prayers.

Because I’m working these lessons into my middle school halaqas too, I thought I’d share here for everyone’s benefit. These are my five pillars of presenting. I’ve deliberately kept this sermon… er, post… short, because a framework shouldn’t be that hard. If this is helpful, great! If you’d like some more hands-on help with public speaking, from sermons on to interview prep, follow the link above and reach out.

In my own teaching, I’ve seen previously shy, withdrawn kids become confident speakers because — and here’s the thing — you can become a good public speaker. It takes effort. It’s not really something you have to be or even can be born with. And I know that personally, as well. The same person who’s spoken to audiences of thousands was once terrified to go through a drive-through.

It took me years to get there. It didn’t have to.

1 > What’s your point?

A khutbah needs an organizing topic. You’d be surprised by how many people get up there, open with the du‘a, and end up miles from where they started, a journey that’s disjointed and aimless because they never thought through what they meant to say. They may not mind, even though they should. You likely do mind, though, and why wouldn’t you? A khateeb who shows up unprepared is actively disrespecting his congregation and community.

Very simply, that’s rude. Imagine how you’d feel if your ride started promising one destination, and ended somewhere entirely else, or if nobody ever even announced where you were going or why. That’s a good chunk of your day you’ll never get back. If you’re going to give a khutbah or otherwise present, never forget that. If the khutbah wasn’t so important, necessary and restorative, it wouldn’t be so obligatory. Note that — and proceed accordingly. Take your time and everyone’s time seriously.

But let’s say, hypothetically, you’re ahead of the curve. You have a topic in mind. Let’s say it’s Muslim unity. What’s the next pillar you should keep in mind?

2 > Stay in Your Lane

If you’re going to say something apparently obvious, like that Muslim unity matters, you’re not only going to have to provide references from sacred texts. You have to provide context—which we too often neglect to, because it takes hard work, critical thinking, and the ability to parse data, develop an argument, and rebut potential counterarguments. Hint: Giving a sermon is like writing a paper.

Both require hard work. If you let ChatGPT do the work, you’ll never build the muscles real ideas require (hint: your mind will atrophy), which means your khutbah will be stilted, you will be unable to grow to accommodate new information, and your congregation will walk away having gained… very little. So what should you do instead? Well, consider what you can do. Do that.

If your topic is “Muslim unity,” you could give us some historical context—which is where you can educate and enlighten us, assuming you’ve allowed yourself to learn. Were Muslims historically ever really united? What did unity mean way back when? What happened that caused Muslims to be more disunited today (if that’s the case?) Of course, this all sounds like a lot of work, and it is.

But if that feels too hard, that’s not the only reason I’m asking you to stay in your lane. If you don’t know how to connect revelation to history, that’s fine. Hopefully, you can connect revelation to lived experience. A khutbah has to reflect the person giving it. Of course, no matter the way you make your point, you’re not just up there to tell us what you’ve done — you’re there to help us all become better!

3 > Teach a Man How To Fish…

Photo by Joshua Kettle on Unsplash

One sure sign of a bad khutbah is an Imam who doesn’t appear to realize there are people in the room… who hopefully want to be there… or might even feel down, despairing, disheartened, or lost at sea, who need advice, guidance, connections and community. Even when a khutbah makes a meaningful pronouncement, like “Muslims are brothers and sisters to one another,” too many end there, offering literally no insights into what this could possibly mean for us where we are and as we are.

If you tell Muslims to be united, really — what does that even mean? Which Muslims? In what contexts? How would we do that? Can you give us an immediate, relatable example of disunity? Sure, some folks might say, “the Muslim world should do more for Palestine,” but last I checked, I’m on Eastern time, my parents chose to come here, I’m happy to be an American, and I’m not sure why the example the khatib is giving has nothing to do with anything in the realm of my life’s possibility.

If the khutbah can’t give someone a few tasks to do, or questions to ask, or priorities to reflect on, that are linked directly to their lives, abilities and concerns, then the khutbah really has no relevance whatsoever.

That khutbah will mostly be experienced as a disappointment because it’s a missed opportunity.

One of my favorite khutbahs ever happened last year, when the Imam simply told the men in the room that they should be ashamed of themselves for trying to park in the closest spots. He pulled zero punches: “If you’re a man,” he said, “and unless you have little kids, elderly relatives, a physical restriction, or a job that requires you to clock-in at a specific time, in other words, if you’re healthy and secure, you should park in the overflow lot.” That wasn’t just a really powerful, beautiful, simple khutbah, it was also a khutbah about Muslim unity.

If you don’t see it, let me explain it to you: We see the truth of our ideals in our lived realities. I can say I care about people, but do I really? I can say we’re a generous community, but what’s the metric I’m measuring that with?

I don’t know how we lament the disunity of our ummah and yet too often we’ve realized a very selfish Islam that encourages people to see their brothers and sisters in faith as competition for parking or as obstacles on the way to the first row. There’s no functional, practical cooperation if there isn’t first an ability to step outside of ourselves and ask: What am I doing here? Is my presence a benefit to others or a hindrance? In that khutbah, the Imam had the courage to give us positive examples.

I have to say, I’d never been quite to ashamed, but I’ll never forget the point. If I extend that point … well, good, but just not in the same khutbah!

4 > You’re Not The Main Character

The khutbah should start on-time and end on-time. Do I have to say more?

Okay, fine, I will. If you didn’t get to make all your points in the allotted time, it’s fine. We’ll live. Short of you having successfully identified Yajuj and Majuj, which you didn’t, there’s no need to keep us over. I was at a Michigan wedding a few months back and one of the speakers was a wonderful young man, barely ten, who started by announcing he was setting his timer to five minutes.

This little boy had more adab than most people on a microphone.

If you can’t stay on time, maybe don’t give a khutbah. (There’s a lot of other ways that lesson further applies, beginning with this: Humility demands you know what you’re good at — and what other people are better at.)

5 > Out of Mind, Out of Sight

I often remind my students that the khutbah is that one occasion that regularly brings together large numbers of Muslims at many levels of faith; it’s hardly the only engagement we need, but it’s also often the main point of entry people have. The Prophet (S) was a businessman, so think of the khutbah in that frame: If this is the only time people get to meet you, and hear you, what do they get?

We should never underestimate a khutbah’s importance. We in the congregation also have obligations, but that’s another post, and even if you’re in the congregation most of the time, draw on that experience before you give a khutbah. Because the khutbah is meant for a large number of people, not all of whom are going to pull out a volume of al-Ghazali later, have access to scholars, or have the time to.

As such, it’s best to try to make your khutbahs tangible, relatable, and accessible, as well as local even as it’s aspirationally universal. How do you balance these? Well, let me give you an instructive example. The next time you’re at the masjid, say tomorrow, if you’re in the US, do you hear a du‘a for where you are — and the people around you, including those who aren’t of our faith? Don’t you think you should? And if you are giving a khutbah, I think that’s something to sit with.

I actually believe the du‘a tells us more than we realize. Know that saying “out of sight, out of mind?” Well, in this case, if someone’s not even on your mind, they’re not going to be in your moral field of vision.

Your du‘a should include causes wherever they are… but most definitely must include causes in the place you live in, including your friends and neighbors. It is from our Lord, and His Prophet, peace be upon him, that we serve those nearest us. If we’ve got nothing even to say about the tremendous hardships going on right around us… that hardly feels like how Muslims should carry themselves, how they should build, and what they should advocate for.

We do that locally. We start where we are. If something isn’t in your ability to change, it’s hardly your primary responsibility, and shouldn’t the content of our communications focus on what we can do? Does the khutbah encourage people to leave feeling a sense of direction and obligation? Or does the khutbah transmit vague sentiments disconnected from any way of realizing them? And which of the two khutbahs are people more likely to remember, act on, and gain from?

Post-Script

I’m sad to report that a local Cincinnati Imam, Ayman Soliman, has had his asylum revoked and is currently in detention. His service included Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, one of the world’s leading pediatric care centers. A good moment to reflect locally, too. Which Cincinnati are we? Which Ohio do we want to be? What better represents America?

America should be faith leaders coming together, as

The Bulwark

reports, to push back against summary detention (click the link below).

A Religious Rebellion Against Mass Deportation

America is equally found in a world-beating medical center built on a commitment to save lives and discover new treatments. And that’s the America God has placed us in and tasked us to serve, uplift and protect.

Tomorrow, we’ll release a new episode of Avenue M, which features a leading American scientist reflect on his life’s work — and talks about what America looks like from Scotland. While we recorded this episode well before this sad news, much of what Steve Brusatte talks about is genuinely applicable. In weeks to come, we’ll have more incredible guests, from stand-up comics to academics, entrepreneurs and more…

But I won’t close without giving a shout-out to ImamConnect, a genuinely global platform — if you’re looking for Imams, scholars, therapists, teachers, Qur’an instructors (or, really, any kind of Muslim service provider), ImamConnect can help you find one for virtual or in-person appointments and commitments wherever you are. I’m honored to be featured on the platform.

As always, consider subscribing. Sunday Schooled is a free resource — and our community keeps growing, animated by a shared commitment: We empower our next generation by empowering each other.