ST. LOUIS (RNS) — By day, he’s a third‑year medical student, hustling between operating rooms and cramming for exams. By night, he trades his scrubs for a thobe — an Islamic robe for men — and steps to the front of a carpeted prayer hall, leading rows of worshippers in prayer as he recites pages of the Quran from memory.

For Besher Jabri, Ramadan is not a time to slow down. Across the country, young men like him are balancing school and work as they step into quasi-imam roles, leading Taraweeh prayers deep into the night. The task is demanding and involves hours of daily review and a grueling schedule that stretches to near midnight. Yet these student reciters say leading a congregation is about more than filling a need at local mosques — they see it as a spiritual responsibility to preserve the sacred text and share it with their communities. 

“As someone who’s studied the Quran, I think it’s a duty for us to give back,” Jabri, 25, said. “It’s not just like, ‘Oh, it would be nice.’ I think it’s something we’re required to do.”

At the Northwest Islamic Center in the suburbs of St. Louis County, Jabri is one of four students who rotate nightly to lead prayers throughout the sacred month. 

The students are not trained scholars, but they carry a distinction held in deep regard by Muslim communities: They are huffaz or “guardians” of the Quran, having committed all 114 chapters and over 6,000 Arabic verses to memory.

During Ramadan, the month in which the Quran was revealed to the Prophet Muhammad, Muslims around the world devote extra time to reading the holy book. In mosques, prayer leaders recite sections of the Quran during nightly prayers, completing the full reading — by memory — by the end of the month.

That works out to about 20 pages total each night. It’s a responsibility, Jabri said, that shapes his entire day.

The Ponce Health Sciences University student wakes at 4:30 a.m. for a quick treadmill run and suhoor, the predawn meal that marks the start of his fast. On the drive to the hospital at 6 a.m., he recites his assigned verses aloud using Tarteel, an app powered by artificial intelligence that listens and corrects mistakes in real time.

Between surgeries and rounds with patients, Jabri uses his limited breaks to replay verses in his head and to refine his recitation.

By the time he returns home for iftar, the evening meal to break the fast, exhaustion has set in. Still, most days the pressure to recite correctly pushes him to keep going, he said. After eating, he reviews again, then once more in the car on the way to the mosque. He picks up another student reciter, Hamza Saleem, and they test each other on their portions as a last line of preparation. 

“Every single time I’ve recited to Hamza, I’ve never had a good run. I’ve always made like 10 mistakes that he’s had to correct me on,” Jabri said. 

But when Jabri steps up to the front of the prayer hall, he regains confidence and begins reciting into the microphone with near perfection. 

“I’m visualizing the Quran, and focusing a lot on tone. There’s just too much going on in my mind to care about the people behind me,” he said. When he is not reciting, Jabri and the other reciters stand behind the imam to correct their peers if they err. 

Baha Alak, director of religious affairs at the Northwest Islamic Center, has made it a personal mission to give young reciters a chance to lead. For the past few years, Alak has brought on a rotating cohort of student huffaz to help him complete what would otherwise be the nearly impossible task of leading 20 sets of prayers alone, he said. 

He sees the inclusion of students as both practical and purposeful: easing the workload while training what he calls the community’s “future leaders.” But Alak knows it’s a big ask of the students. 

A retired lab director, Alak memorized the Quran at age 45 and said it takes him up to three hours of daily review to ensure near flawless recitation during prayer. 

“It’s not an easy task,” he said. “Truly the students have stamina, perseverance and discipline.” 

The Taraweeh prayers, which last close to 2 1/2 hours, are an integral part of Muslim worship, Alak said. He added that recitation is meant to be done with an eloquent, melodious voice and an understanding of the meaning that moves people’s hearts closer to God. 

“We want the worshippers to enjoy the recitation,” Alak said, “and to contemplate when they listen to it and to take home some messages that have been recited that night.”

For many in the congregation, the young reciters are a source of pride and inspiration. The students’ different melodies and recitation styles help 17-year-old Alaa connect with the Quran’s meanings.

Alaa, who declined to provide her last name because she is a minor, looks up to the young huffaz — if they were able to memorize the Quran, she said, maybe she can, too.

“Last year, I felt like I could memorize the Quran in like two weeks,” she said, chuckling. “That didn’t happen, but it really did motivate me to revisit old chapters, stories that I had forgotten and recommit to memorizing.”

Sawsan Abdelghafoor, a 52-year-old woman and a frequent worshipper at Northwest Islamic Center, said it makes her proud to hear younger people lead prayers. 

When her daughters ask to go home after praying eight sets, a sort of halfway point when many people leave the mosque, Abdelghafoor insists on staying until her favorite reciter has had his turn leading. 

And when the young reciters stumble, Abdelghafoor’s reaction isn’t judgmental.

“I feel it’s a lot of pressure on them,” she said. “Sometimes I feel tears coming when they struggle or are stuck. I want to do something for them not to struggle.”

For Manna Rahman, an undergraduate student, leading Taraweeh at his Detroit area mosque is both humbling and demanding. Between daily classes and work on weekends, he spends most of his limited free time practicing his recitation. Still, he occasionally makes mistakes. 

“During my first year, it was a lot harder because I was just thinking about everyone behind me. I was scared,” said Rahman, who has been leading prayers for six years. “But then I realized there’s no point in thinking about everyone behind me. It’s just about me and Allah.”

As a child, Rahman saw the Quran as scripture to simply memorize and regurgitate. Studying with a new teacher shifted his perspective.

“I realized the Quran is a guide to life,” he said. “I wanted to understand what it was and how many cool stories there are in the Quran. It just really intrigued me.”

Jabri said that connection for him came after a period of distance.

The native Arabic speaker memorized the Quran in six years without a teacher, but in high school, he said he “neglected” it and forgot much of what he had learned. In college, he recommitted himself to the holy text, returning to it with a deeper sense of its meaning.

“If I’m ever sad or missing my family, or feeling lonely, I just open or even just listen to the Quran, and all of it goes away. That is genuinely the best, the only thing I can rely on comfortably to always be there.”

On Sunday (March 15), when the reciters completed the full reading of the Quran, the mosque’s imam and community leaders were quick to praise the young students. In front of the congregation, Alak thanked each student for their commitment and gave them an honorarium. 

Being an oral carrier of the Quran is an honor Jabri doesn’t take lightly, he said. But it can carry a pressure to be, in the eyes of the community, a “perfect” Muslim. 

“It’s a whole different level to memorize and apply the Quran,” he said. “As a hafiz, I’ve memorized it. I’m still working on the applying part.”