If you wish to donate, consider supporting smaller mosques or those that are still under construction. Better yet, direct your blessings and resources toward people who are in greater need. Give directly to the poor, the needy, or orphaned children. It is even better if you personally deliver your assistance. Doing good requires not only generosity, but also wisdom and critical thinking. Otherwise, you may be easily deceived or manipulated.
You should be aware that there are people who wear the cap of virtue and the robe of religion while hiding dishonest intentions. After all, who does not like money? Do not be overly naïve or unquestioning.
With some hesitation, I would even argue that it is spiritually undesirable to donate to a mosque whose construction has already been completed. Once again, I believe it is at least questionable to continue donating to a mosque that already stands firmly, beautifully, and magnificently—especially if the mosque already holds hundreds of millions or even billions of rupiah in its financial reserves. Money that sits idle in large amounts can become a temptation. As the saying goes, where there is money, there is always the possibility of corruption and misuse.
If a mosque's finances are managed honestly, properly, and effectively, it is difficult to imagine that there would still be poor, struggling, or neglected people living around it. We must remember that a mosque is ultimately only a building. What deserves the greatest attention and care are the people—the congregation, the community, and society itself.
If a mosque is already large, prosperous, and well-established, then perhaps it is time to stop focusing on expanding the building. The next priority should be enriching the lives of its congregation, supporting the surrounding community, and improving the welfare of the neighborhood. That is what truly matters.
It is a grave moral failure for mosque administrators to hold hundreds of millions or even billions of rupiah in reserve while members of the congregation or people living nearby continue to suffer from poverty, hunger, illness, or hardship without receiving assistance.
Remember: a mosque is indeed a place for communal worship. But gathering together should not be limited to prayer and remembrance of God. It should also mean coming together to solve social problems, address the challenges faced by the community, and confront issues such as poverty and ignorance.
A successful mosque—one that truly functions as the House of God—should not be judged by the size of its building or the beauty of its architecture. A truly meaningful mosque is one that helps create an environment that resembles paradise: a community marked by harmony, compassion, and human connection.
Its people should embody the spirit of togetherness wherever they are, whenever they are, and with whomever they interact. Togetherness in its deepest sense means mutual respect, mutual support, mutual care, mutual protection, compassion for one another, and sincere prayers for one another's well-being.
It makes little sense for a mosque to stand magnificently while homeless people, abandoned children, or beggars can still be seen suffering nearby. If that is the case, something is clearly wrong. It is difficult to understand how donations can continue flowing into a mosque every day—accumulating into vast financial reserves—while orphaned children, the poor, and struggling families in the surrounding area remain neglected.
What is all that money for? To be piled up? To sit in a bank account indefinitely while others continue to suffer?
Woe to those who build mosques. Woe to those who pray—those who pray yet remain heedless. Those who diligently perform prayers and recite remembrance in the mosque, yet neglect their responsibilities toward fellow human beings. Those who are insensitive to the suffering of others and unwilling to extend compassion and assistance.
May we not become among those described in Surah Al-Ma'un:
“Have you seen the one who denies the Judgment?
That is the one who repels the orphan
and does not encourage the feeding of the poor.
So woe to those who pray,
yet are heedless of their prayers,
those who perform acts only to be seen by others,
and withhold even simple acts of assistance.”
In closing, I sincerely apologize if any of my words offend or hurt your feelings. My intention is not to attack anyone, but merely to contribute to a shared reflection and a renewed awareness—especially for myself.
Ideally, our large, beautiful, magnificent, and prosperous mosques should symbolize something greater: that our souls are equally noble, that our intentions and thoughts are beautiful, that our hearts are expansive, and that society as a whole enjoys justice, prosperity, and well-being.
Can we not feel at least a little humility before God? Can we confidently enter His house to worship Him while simultaneously neglecting our responsibility to help His servants who are struggling outside—those burdened by hardship, suffering, and adversity?
Can we truly do that?
One day, after Friday prayer in a magnificent mosque in a city called P, I remained in prayer for a long time, deeply absorbed in devotion. I spoke to God and asked for many things, addressing the Most Compassionate and Most Merciful.
In the midst of my prayer, it felt as though God gently knocked upon the door of my heart and said:
“You whose lips move endlessly in prayer, asking for rewards and seeking paradise: You have come to My house, yet unfortunately I am not in My house.
I am with My lonely servants.
I am with those who are sick, hungry, standing in the rain, struck by misfortune, burdened by hardship, abandoned, neglected, forgotten, and treated unjustly.
I am beside those whom I love.
If you wish to meet Me, then come. Leave My house. Go and find them. Help them. Stand beside them.
I am always with them, and they are always with Me.
Such is the truth.
O believers, your soul should be greater and more magnificent than the mosque you build.”
Dirja Wiharja
