We treat religious education as optional in a way we would never treat mathematics or language. A child who cannot read is considered to have a serious problem. A child who reaches adulthood not knowing who Imam Hussain (عليه السلام) was, or what the event of Ghadir means, or why we follow Ahlulbayt — that is somehow considered normal.
It is worth sitting with that for a moment.
The first word revealed to the Prophet ﷺ was Iqra — read, learn, engage with knowledge. This was not incidental. Islam arrived with a command to think, to seek, to understand. And yet for many of our families, Islamic learning occupies a distant place in the weekly schedule — if it appears at all.
Imam Muhammad al-Baqir (عليه السلام) said that a scholar who benefits others with his knowledge is better than seventy thousand worshippers. The emphasis in our tradition has never been on blind practice alone — it has always been on knowing why, understanding what you are doing and where it comes from.
This matters practically. A young person who knows only the surface of their faith is poorly equipped for the questions that will come — from friends, from university, from their own searching mind. The faith that has no roots does not survive the first storm.
Our programs exist to give those roots. The Saturday class is not extra. It is not enrichment on top of the real curriculum. For a Muslim child, it is part of the real curriculum.
What does supporting this look like? Sometimes it is financial. But often it is simpler: making sure your child actually attends, consistently. Treating cancellation as the exception rather than the routine. Asking your child what they learned. Showing that you, as a parent, take this as seriously as any other part of their week.
Children notice what adults prioritize. If Islamic education is treated as dispensable, they will internalize that. If it is treated as essential — they will carry that too, long after they leave your home.