When the House of God Becomes a House of Money

There is something deeply troubling about what religion is gradually becoming in parts of our society. The mosque was supposed to be a place where the rich and the poor stood shoulder to shoulder. The church was supposed to be a place where the powerful and the powerless met before the same God. The Imam and the pastor were supposed to be shepherds, teachers, counsellors and moral examples. But increasingly, one cannot escape the feeling that money has entered places where it should be handled with extraordinary care. This is not an attack on Islam. It is not an attack on Christianity. It is not an attack on Imams, pastors or religious leaders generally. There are thousands of sincere religious leaders who live modestly, serve their communities faithfully and would never touch money entrusted to them. The concern is about something much bigger: what happens when religious authority, money, personal ambition and inadequate accountability meet? And perhaps we should ask the question before society becomes too uncomfortable to ask it.

A beard is not a Certificate of Character

In Muslim society, a beard often carries a powerful symbolic meaning. It may signify religious commitment, adherence to the Sunnah and a person's desire to be visibly identified with Islam. But a beard is not a certificate of character. The same applies to the flowing gown, the turban, the title "Sheikh", "Mallam", "Alhaji" or "Imam". Neither is a theological certificate itself a guarantee of honesty. Yet these symbols create expectations.

When a man stands before a congregation five times a day, leads prayers, explains the Qur'an, interprets the Hadith and tells people what Allah permits and forbids, society naturally expects more from him. He is not merely another businessman. He is not merely another community leader. He is dealing with people's consciences. That is an enormous responsibility. If an Imam tells his congregation that stealing is haram, people expect him not to steal. If he condemns dishonesty, people expect honesty from him. If he preaches against extravagance, people have every right to wonder about conspicuous extravagance in his own life. Religious leadership should therefore carry a higher standard of accountability, not a lower one.

Does Allah Need Our Money?
There is another question we should be brave enough to ask. Why do we sometimes speak as though we are giving money to Allah? Allah does not need our money. The believer needs to give. There is an enormous difference. Allah owns everything. The purpose of charity is not to enrich God. It is to discipline the human being, purify wealth, help the vulnerable, strengthen the community and fulfil obligations towards fellow human beings. This distinction matters. When someone says, "Give for Allah", the expression can be perfectly understandable as an encouragement to give for a good cause in obedience to God. But we should not allow the language to create the impression that God is somehow financially dependent on human beings. He is not.

The poor person may need the money. The orphan may need the money. The widow may need the money. The sick person may need the money. The school may need the money. The mosque may need the money. The community may need the money. Allah does not. That is why the handling of religious money must be treated as a trust.

Is "Fi Sabilillah" a Compulsory Donation?

Here we need to be precise. Islam has an obligatory form of giving called zakat. But not every appeal for money is zakat. The Qur'an, in Surah At-Tawbah 9:60, identifies categories for the distribution of zakat, including the poor, the needy, those employed to administer it, people in debt and other specified categories. "Fi sabilillah" --- commonly translated as "in the way of Allah" --- appears among those categories. But this does not mean that every person who enters a mosque must make a payment whenever an Imam says "fi sabilillah". Nor does it mean that every mosque appeal is zakat.

Sadaqah, or voluntary charity, is another matter. A Muslim may give voluntarily to many legitimate causes. There is nothing wrong with asking people to support the construction, maintenance or expansion of a mosque where the appeal is genuine. The problem begins when voluntary charity starts looking like compulsory taxation administered without transparent rules. And this is where our religious institutions need serious reflection.

Why Announce the Donor's Name and Amount?

I have sat in places where an announcement is made: "Alhaji Fuseini has donated GH¢5,000." Then comes: "Where is Hajjia Fuseina?" "Where is Hajjia Hassana?" "Where is Alhaji Juuna?" One person gives GH¢5,000. Another gives GH¢2,000. Someone gives GH¢1,000. Then the congregation is encouraged to respond. There may be nothing inherently wrong with this. Public pledges can sometimes encourage others to contribute to a genuine community project. But there is a spiritual danger here.

Are we giving because we genuinely want to give, or because we do not want people to know that we did not give? Are we giving because Allah has moved our hearts, or because our neighbour has just been publicly praised? Are we giving anonymously because we want God's reward, or publicly because we want society's recognition?

The Qur'an itself speaks about charity given without ostentation. And Christian teaching contains a similar warning: Jesus tells his followers to give without turning charity into a public performance. Perhaps our religious leaders should therefore ask themselves whether publicly announcing every donor and every amount strengthens spirituality, or sometimes turns charity into a competition.

The Mosque is not the Imam's Property

There is another principle that needs to be firmly established. When a community contributes money to build a mosque, the mosque belongs to the community. The Imam may have initiated and supervised the construction. He may have mobilized the money. He may have worked tirelessly to acquire the land, organize the building and complete the project. We should appreciate him. But appreciation is not ownership. A mosque built through the collective resources of the Muslim community should not become the personal property of the Imam, his children or his relatives. It belongs to the Ummah.

This distinction becomes particularly important when an Imam leaves, retires or dies. What happens to the mosque? Who controls its bank account? Who owns the land? Who keeps the title documents? Who controls the donations? Who decides how the building is used? Who audits the accounts? Who appoints the next Imam? These are not disrespectful questions. They are governance questions. And governance is not the enemy of religion. Good governance protects religion from human weakness.

The Prophet's Example was not an Invitation to Financial Secrecy

Some may argue that religious workers have always received money. Indeed, the Islamic tradition recognizes the category of people employed to administer zakat. There is nothing inherently wrong with paying someone who performs legitimate religious or administrative work. But there is a crucial difference between being paid for legitimate work and having uncontrolled access to other people's money. The Prophet's treatment of a zakat collector provides an extraordinarily powerful lesson.

A man appointed to collect zakat returned and said, in effect, that some money belonged to the public treasury while another part had been given to him as a personal gift. The Prophet questioned the logic of the "gift". Why did the gift not come to him when he was sitting at home before he acquired his official position? The lesson is profound. Public responsibility changes the character of private gifts.

If someone gives an Imam GH¢5,000 because he is an ordinary friend, that is one thing. If the same person gives the Imam GH¢5,000 because the Imam controls access to a religious fund, announces donations, approves beneficiaries or influences decisions over community property, the circumstances deserve scrutiny. Religion should not become a shield against accountability.

What if the Donor's Money is Dirty?

This is perhaps the most uncomfortable question. Suppose a man acquires his wealth through fraud. Suppose another steals public money. Suppose another launders money. Suppose another makes money through illegal gambling. Suppose someone is involved in organized crime. Then the person donates GH¢1 billion to a mosque. Should the mosque simply say: "Alhamdulillah. Allah has blessed him"? I find that difficult to accept. I once raised a similar question and was told by a learned cleric that the mosque had no business investigating the source of a donation. But surely Islam cannot be interpreted to mean that stolen money becomes clean simply because it enters a mosque.

If someone steals a person's money and donates it to a mosque, the mosque cannot magically become the rightful owner. The moral question does not disappear because the money has acquired a religious destination. Islamic sources emphasize that charity should come from lawful earnings. The Prophet's teaching also contains a powerful warning about officials who receive gifts because of the position they occupy. The Christian tradition is equally explicit about the danger of religious leaders pursuing dishonest gain.

So the question is not whether a mosque should conduct a criminal investigation into every donor. It should not. But when there are serious and credible reasons to suspect that a very large donation represents the proceeds of crime, should religious institutions simply close their eyes? That deserves a serious scholarly and ethical debate.

What if a Minor Gives Stolen Money?

Let us take the argument to its logical conclusion. Suppose a minor somehow obtains GH¢1 billion through fraud, money laundering or "sakawa" and gives it to a mosque. Would the mosque say: "We do not ask questions. It is sadaqah"? Surely there must be limits. A religious institution should not become a laundering point for questionable wealth merely because the donor invokes Allah. The more money involved, the greater the need for due diligence. This is not because religion distrusts people. It is because trust without controls eventually becomes an invitation to abuse.

Should Every Mosque have a Financial System?

I believe we need to rethink how many of our mosques are administered. Why should a mosque collecting hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of cedis operate without proper accounts, an elected management committee, bank accounts, budgets, receipts, annual statements and independent oversight? Why should the Imam be the fundraiser, accountant, procurement officer, project manager, property manager and spiritual leader at the same time? That arrangement exposes the Imam to temptation and exposes the congregation to risk.

A mosque should have a properly constituted management structure. There should be separation of responsibilities. There should be at least two or three authorized signatories. There should be annual financial reporting. Large projects should have approved budgets. Donations should be receipted. Major expenditures should be documented. Assets should be registered in the name of the appropriate community entity. Accounts must be audited periodically and displayed for all to see. And where legally appropriate, mosques should operate through properly registered associations or charitable structures. The principle is simple: The Imam should lead the congregation spiritually. He should not personally own the congregation's money.

What About the Imam's Own Salary?

Here is another question that we rarely ask. Are Imams exempt from the financial obligations imposed on everyone else? If the answer is yes in a particular matter, let the scholars explain why. If the answer is no, let us say so. An Imam must eat. An Imam must pay school fees. An Imam must pay electricity bills. An Imam must take care of his wife and children. An Imam can become sick. An Imam can grow old. There is nothing shameful about an Imam earning a decent and respectable income. In fact, properly paying religious workers may be one of the best ways to reduce financial temptation. The solution is not to expect an Imam to live on air. The solution is to establish a legitimate, transparent and dignified remuneration system. Let the mosque budget provide for the Imam. Let the congregation know what has been budgeted. Let the Imam receive his salary. Let him account for community money. Let him pay whatever taxes and other obligations the law requires. And let nobody confuse the Imam's salary with his personal entitlement to mosque funds.

And Then There is the MoMo Number

There is another development that deserves reflection. Why do we increasingly see Mobile Money numbers displayed during religious preaching on television and radio? Again, there may be perfectly legitimate reasons. A preacher may be raising money for an orphanage. A church may be building a school. A mosque may be constructing a new facility. A religious organization may be helping victims of a disaster. There is nothing inherently wrong with providing a legitimate channel through which people can contribute. But when every sermon begins to carry a financial appeal, something changes psychologically.

The preacher is supposed to be telling us what is right and wrong. He is supposed to challenge our greed. He is supposed to remind us that life is temporary. He is supposed to comfort the poor. He is supposed to rebuke corruption. He is supposed to tell the rich that wealth is a responsibility. If, immediately after that message, his personal MoMo number appears on the screen, people may begin to wonder whether the sermon has acquired a commercial dimension. Religion should never give the impression that spiritual guidance is being converted into a revenue-generating enterprise.

Christianity has the Same Warning

Muslims should not imagine that this is only an Islamic problem. Christianity has wrestled with the same temptation. The New Testament warns church leaders to shepherd God's people "not for dishonest gain" but as examples to the flock. The First Letter to Timothy warns about those who regard godliness as a means of financial gain and famously warns about the dangers associated with the love of money. Jesus himself challenged the conversion of the temple into a marketplace. Christian history is therefore full of warnings against the commercialization of religion.

Pope Francis has repeatedly spoken against the idolatry of money and warned clergy about becoming attached to wealth, power and careerism. He has also warned against turning churches into marketplaces. These warnings are not directed at Christianity alone. They contain a universal lesson: Whenever money becomes more powerful than conscience, religion becomes vulnerable.

Africa has seen the Consequences
Across Africa, the debate has become increasingly difficult to ignore. Academic research on African charismatic Christianity has documented the growth of prosperity preaching in countries including Ghana, Nigeria, Kenya and Uganda, alongside criticism of preachers who promise material prosperity while encouraging substantial giving. There are pastors who live modestly and serve sacrificially. There are also religious entrepreneurs who have built enormous personal brands around miracles, prosperity, celebrity and wealth. The two should not be confused. The problem is not that a pastor owns a posh car. The problem is not that an Imam lives in a comfortable house. Religious leaders are human beings and deserve decent lives. The problem begins when the accumulation of wealth becomes difficult to reconcile with the message being preached and the source of the money is not transparent. And it becomes even more troubling when followers are poor, indebted and struggling to pay school fees, while the person preaching to them about giving displays a lifestyle that appears completely detached from their reality.

Rwanda Asked an Uncomfortable Question

Rwanda offers an interesting example --- though it must be approached carefully. In 2018, the Rwandan government launched a major crackdown on religious establishments that authorities said failed to meet safety, hygiene, noise and registration requirements. More than 700 churches in Kigali were closed initially, while later reports indicated thousands of religious sites were affected nationwide. Some Muslim places of worship were also affected. President Paul Kagame expressed surprise at the sheer number of churches, asking why a country with pressing development needs had so many houses of worship. The government's intervention attracted criticism from religious and human-rights groups, who raised concerns about freedom of worship. But the episode nevertheless forced a difficult question: How many religious institutions can a poor or developing society sustainably support? And another: What does a country gain when religious activity grows faster than productive economic activity? Those questions should not be dismissed simply because they are uncomfortable. The answer is not to close mosques and churches. The answer is to ask whether religion is helping society become more educated, more honest, healthier, more productive and more compassionate.

Traoré has Raised Another Uncomfortable Question

Burkina Faso's Captain Ibrahim Traoré has also entered this debate. He said his government had identified hundreds of Burkinabè students studying Islamic law or Sharia in Arab countries and questioned whether the country was producing enough engineers, doctors, pharmacists, agricultural specialists and other professionals needed for development. Reports differ on the precise number of students he cited, but the central argument is clear: a country needs religious scholars, but it also needs scientists, engineers, doctors, pharmacists, teachers and technicians. There is an important principle here.

A Muslim country does not become less Muslim because its young people study engineering. A Christian does not become less Christian because he studies medicine. A religious scholar who understands economics, agriculture, medicine, technology or public administration may actually be better equipped to address the problems facing his community. Faith and knowledge should not be enemies. Professor Pantami, the new Governor of Gombe is a good example here. We need religious leaders who understand the modern world.

Perhaps the real question is not whether young Muslims should study Sharia. Of course some should. We need scholars of Islamic jurisprudence. We need Qur'anic scholars. We need theologians. We need historians of religion. But we also need Muslim engineers who can design roads. Muslim pharmacists who can manufacture medicines. Muslim economists who can understand poverty. Muslim accountants who can audit religious institutions. Muslim lawyers who can protect community property. Muslim IT specialists who can secure financial systems. Muslim doctors and nurses who can save lives. Is it not a shame that a Muslim woman will be clad in hijab and go to hospital for a male to examine her private parts? Religion should produce people capable of serving society, not merely people capable of preaching to society.

The Imam Should not Become a Celebrity

There is another development we should discuss honestly. Why must religious leadership increasingly come with a mansion? Why must an Imam necessarily drive a V8? Why must a pastor necessarily live in a palace? Why should religious leadership automatically confer access to luxury? Why should the religious leader's wives, children and relatives become beneficiaries of a congregation's resources? There is nothing wrong with wealth acquired honestly. There is nothing wrong with having a good house. There is nothing wrong with driving a good vehicle. There is nothing wrong with marrying according to one's faith and means. The question is: Where did the money come from? And: Can it withstand scrutiny? That is the question we should ask of politicians. It is the question we should ask of civil servants. It is the question we should ask of businessmen. And it should be the question we ask of religious leaders. Religion should not provide immunity from questions that we would ask everybody else.

Why not Establish Zakat Houses?
Perhaps it is time for serious Muslim thinkers in Ghana to revisit the idea of professionally organized zakat administration. Instead of thousands of individual appeals, why not establish credible Zakat Houses? People could pay their zakat through an accountable institution. The institution could maintain proper records. Qualified scholars could determine eligibility. Accountants could audit the funds. Social workers could identify genuine beneficiaries. Technology could track payments and disbursements. Annual reports could tell Muslims how much was collected and where the money went. A Zakat House could support the poor, indebted families, widows, orphans and other eligible beneficiaries according to established Islamic principles. The beauty of such a system is that religion and professional management would reinforce rather than undermine each other.

We Need to Restore the Dignity of religious leadership

The answer is not to impoverish Imams. It is not to prevent pastors from earning legitimate incomes. It is not to stop Muslims and Christians from giving. It is not to stop people from building beautiful mosques and churches. It is not to accuse every religious leader of corruption. The answer is accountability. Pay religious leaders properly. Define their responsibilities. Separate personal money from institutional money. Register religious organizations where appropriate. Keep proper accounts. Publish annual financial statements. Audit major funds. Create independent management committees. Protect community property. Require receipts. Discourage unnecessary public competition among donors. Establish clear rules for anonymous and public donations. Develop procedures for handling unusually large donations. And where there is credible evidence that money may be proceeds of crime, seek appropriate professional and legal advice rather than hiding behind religion.

Most importantly, religious leaders themselves should welcome accountability. An honest Imam should not fear an audit. An honest pastor should not fear an audit. An honest treasurer should not fear an audit. An honest donor should not fear legitimate questions.

The Poor Are Watching
There is something else we should never forget. The person sitting in the mosque may have only GH¢5 left in his pocket. The woman sitting in church may not know where tomorrow's food will come from. The pensioner may be struggling to buy medicine. The unemployed graduate may be wondering how to pay transport fare. The farmer may have sold his harvest on credit. The teacher may be struggling to pay school fees. When such people are told repeatedly to give, they may give because they trust God and respect the religious leader. That trust is sacred. It must never be exploited.

If a congregation gives GH¢600,000 to build a mosque, it should be able to know what happened to the money. If a church raises GH¢600,000 for a project, members should be able to see the accounts. If a religious organization receives millions of cedis, it should be able to explain how the money was used. This is not secularism. This is stewardship.

Let Religion Challenge our Greed --- Not Feed It

Perhaps the greatest danger is not the money itself. Money is necessary. The danger is what money does to the human heart. The Imam can become ambitious. The pastor can become ambitious. The politician can become ambitious. The businessman can become ambitious. The journalist can become ambitious. The university professor can become ambitious. All of us are vulnerable. That is why religion exists partly to remind us that we are temporary custodians of what we possess. We came into this world with nothing. We will leave with nothing. The mansion will remain. The SUV will remain. The mosque will remain. The church will remain. The bank account will pass to somebody else. The title will be forgotten. The clothes will disappear. But the consequences of how we used the trust placed in our hands will remain. Perhaps that is the conversation our religious communities need. Not: "Who gave the biggest donation?" But: Who was helped? Not: "How much did we collect?" But: How much reached the people who needed it? Not: "Who owns the mosque?" But: Who is entrusted with it? Not: "How wealthy is our Imam?" But: How faithfully does he serve his people? Not: "How expensive is the pastor's car?" But: How many broken lives has his ministry helped to rebuild? And perhaps, above all, not: "How much money can religion raise?" But: "What kind of human beings is our religion producing?"

That is the question both Muslims and Christians must have the courage to answer. Because the greatest mosque is not the one with the most expensive marble. The greatest church is not the one with the largest auditorium. And the greatest religious leader is not necessarily the one with the biggest following. The real measure of religion may be much simpler: Does it make us more honest, more compassionate, more disciplined, more humble and more useful to humanity? If it does, then religion is doing its work. If it does not, perhaps we need to stop counting the money for a moment --- and start examining ourselves.

My Thoughts
The late Tolon Na, Major (Retired) Sulemana, won the hearts of many people, especially Dagombas and, more importantly, the people of Tolon. He was a chief who demonstrated genuine selflessness. Major never took a pesewa from anyone for land he gave out. Major Sulemana was truly SELFLESS. May his gentle soul rest in perfect peace. My prayer is that the Regent of Tolon, and whoever eventually becomes the Tolon Na, will follow in Major Sulemana’s footsteps. He has set a remarkable precedent, one worthy of emulation. I also hope that our traditional rulers across Dagbon and Ghana will learn from his example. Chieftaincy should not only be about tradition and authority; it should also be about service, compassion and the welfare of the people.

It is unbelievable that land can cost more in Tamale than in Accra. Why should this be so? Land is a precious resource, but it should also be an instrument for development, not an obstacle that makes it increasingly difficult for ordinary people to build homes and businesses. The legacy of the late Tolon Na reminds us that leadership is ultimately about what we give to our people, not what we take from them. Our religious leaders should also learn from Major Sulemana. “No one leaves anything this World with anything. All we that accompanies us is our shroud and our good works”. Those were the words of Major Sulemana. Surely, he will be missed. I dedicate this piece to Major Sulemana.

FUSEINI ABDULAI BRAIMAH
+233208282575 / +233550558008
[email protected]