Personal Blogs

The mosque is too far from home,

So, let’s do this,

Let’s make a weeping child laugh

Nidi Fazli

Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot

The poet Nidi Fazli once wrote, "The mosque is too far from home, so, let's do this—let's make a weeping child laugh." In this simple yet profound reflection, Fazli invites us to shift our focus from the grandiosity of religious structures to the heart of religious practice itself. If we cannot reach the sacred spaces that tradition has marked for us, what then? Fazli suggests that perhaps the most sacred act is to comfort a child, to be a source of joy and compassion in the world.

This notion can be applied across religions. Christianity, too, emphasizes that faith must manifest in tangible acts of love and kindness. The early Christians, as described in the Book of Acts, sold their possessions and laid the proceeds at the feet of the apostles to be distributed to those in need (Acts 4:35). Here, religion isn't merely a matter of doctrine or ritual but of community, self-sacrifice, and compassion. It is a recognition that true faith calls us to serve others, to love our neighbours as ourselves.

 The early Christian community understood that their faith was to be expressed not just in words, but in action. The radical decision to give away one's possessions speaks to a worldview that sees material wealth as secondary to the well-being of others. Such acts reflect a deep understanding of the biblical command to care for the most vulnerable members of society. In Exodus 22:22, 23, God gives a stark warning to those who would oppress widows and orphans: 

“You shall not take advantage of any widow or fatherless child.  If you take advantage of them at all, and they cry at all to me.” (BSB)

This is not a passive God, indifferent to suffering. This is a God whose heart is aligned with the marginalized, the oppressed, and the vulnerable. I see this being acted out in modern times noticing churches that operate food banks providing whose facing difficult times with substance.

The principle in this passage reflects the core ethic of many religious teachings: to look out for those who cannot fend for themselves. It reminds us that faith is not only about our relationship with God, but also about our relationship with one another. God’s fury in the face of injustice towards the powerless underscores how central these issues are to the divine nature. The divine commands justice, mercy, and care for the “least of these” (Matthew 25:40). In fact, failure to heed this call is not just a personal moral failing, but a direct affront to God.

In the modern world, religious organizations continue to embody this ethic in various ways. Christian medical missions reach underserved communities, providing healthcare to those who would otherwise be neglected. Orphanages and charitable institutions offer homes and care for children who have been abandoned or orphaned, continuing a tradition of service that dates back to the earliest Christian communities. Churches, mosques, temples, and other places of worship provide not only spiritual nourishment but also tangible resources—food, clothing, and even shelter to those in need. Many Christians, inspired by Jesus' teachings, visit the homeless with food and toiletries, working to restore a sense of dignity to those who have lost so much.

Yet, Nidi Fazli’s lines also remind us that sometimes religion can be inaccessible or distant from everyday life. Whether through institutional failures, geographic distance, or rigid dogma, religious practice can sometimes feel disconnected from the immediate needs of our world. The mosque may indeed be too far from home. The church may seem irrelevant or aloof. But Fazli’s words urge us to see that the essence of faith transcends buildings or ceremonies—it is found in the simple, human acts of love, kindness, and empathy.

This idea resonates deeply with the teachings of Jesus, who spent much of his ministry among the outcast and downtrodden. His healing touch, his words of comfort, and his acts of service were done outside the walls of the temple. He showed that true faith is not confined to sacred spaces or religious professionals. Instead, it is lived out in the streets, in homes, and in the everyday interactions between people.

Faith, when genuine, leads us to actions that reflect God’s love and justice. Whether we are providing medical care to the sick, shelter to the homeless, or simply making a weeping child laugh, we are doing God’s work. Religion should be a force for good, a force that heals and brings joy, a force that defends the defenceless and uplifts the downtrodden.

Perhaps, then, the most important religious act we can perform today is not to walk into a mosque or a church but to walk into someone’s life with compassion. To see the crying child and, as Fazli suggests, make them laugh. It is in these moments that we live out the true essence of faith, embodying the divine command to love one another as God loves us.

So, be careful when someone claimed to be a Christian James 2, 15,17,

What good is it, my brothers, if a man says he has faith, but has no works? Can faith save him?  And if a brother or sister is naked and in lack of daily food, and one of you tells them, “Go in peace. Be warmed and filled;” yet you didn’t give them the things the body needs, what good is it? ¹⁷ Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead in itself. ¹⁸ Yes, a man will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without works, and I will show you my faith by my works. (WEB).