Young preachers repackaging Islam
They tie in beach and barbecue with the Koran
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CAIRO - The Islamic preacher slipped on a pair of shorts and talked about the Koran while playing beach volleyball, eating barbecue, and joking about hot cars and palaces in paradise.
If the West were to dream up its version of an ideal imam, he might look and sound like Mostafa Hosni, a 30-year-old former
"We decided to leave the city and go somewhere with a sea, clear sky, and mountains so that we can meditate about almighty God's greatness," Hosni said with a gentle surf behind him. "It is hard for one to meditate about that in the crowded city. In fact, we want to draw some link between the beauty of the Earth and that of paradise."
The West's picture of the Muslim preacher is often caricature: a bearded man in a tunic bellowing ancient verses and spinning asides about American imperialism. But that icon is changing as the image and message of mainstream Islam are softened to appeal to upwardly mobile, twentysomething followers less concerned with dogma than bleeping out life's annoyances on the way to success.
"I try to preach with simple language, not the language of scholars," said Hosni, who has a weekly TV talk show and whose sermons are sold on CDs in front of Cairo University. "People are attracted to new preachers like me because they want religious solutions to daily problems, not someone talking to them about the afterlife."
Hosni's path is similar to that of other popular TV preachers, such as Amr Khaled and Moez Masoud, charismatic men who started in commerce and eventually were drawn to religious fervor and a desire to repackage Islam.
This brand of preacher has not eclipsed the influence of imams and clerics, but has forced traditional holy men to reckon with the power of the Internet and the allure of simplifying centuries-old texts to fit modern times.
Hosni is casual but pious, answering questions with schoolboy earnestness, careful about how he might be perceived. He is as adept at deciphering the market penetration of satellite TV as he is at weaving metaphors with verses of the Koran.
"People want to change their lives in the way they are devout," said Hosni, his head newly shaved from a recent hajj pilgrimage. "We are in a defining time in Islam, and this will help us open ourselves up to the world."
Such talk can draw a wince from Abu Islam Ahmed Abdullah. He does not wear chinos and probably doesn't have an argyle sweater in his bottom drawer. Abdullah is a hard-line Salafi sheik, a man who dresses in gray tunics and whose wife is veiled from head to toe, including black gloves on her hands.
"These new preachers are nice and pleasant, but they follow the line of the government. They are not preaching Islam. It's a sham," he said. "They are an extension of the Western conspiracy to influence the region. . . . It doesn't impact the spirit. The girls in their audiences wear veils, but they also wear lipstick and tight clothes. They think they're religious because the modern preachers tell them so. They're deceived."
For all his modern inflection and openness to the West, Hosni said that does not mean contradicting Islam; it means finding a way to be devout in a modern world.
