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In June 1989, a one-story building on Merchants Road looked unremarkable from the outside. Inside, it was crowded.
The Democrat and Chronicle reported that about 50 members of Rochester’s Ahmadiyya Muslim community gathered at 564 Merchants Rd. for the dedication of a renovated building as a mosque, while about 80 others listened from the basement.
The visiting Ahmadiyya spiritual leader, Mirza Tahir Ahmad, who was based in London, began with a silent prayer and then answered questions for about 90 minutes. Rev. Anthony Mugavero of St. Theodore’s Roman Catholic Church, who attended the event, later said that the leader was “totally sincere” and that he would enjoy more dialogues.
More than 35 years later, Rochester’s Ahmadiyya community is again in a season of visibility, with Ramadan underway and a new imam, Wajeeh Mirza, settling into life in the city. Ramadan is the Islamic month of fasting from dawn to sunset, with an emphasis on prayer and charity. This year, it began in mid-February and runs into March. For longtime members, it is another chapter in a local story that began in living rooms and grew into a congregation that describes itself as outward-facing and eager to build relationships across faith lines.
“We are part of Rochester and part of America,” Mirza says.
The Ahmadiyya Muslim Community is the oldest organized Muslim movement in the United States, with roots here dating to 1920, he says. The movement began in 1889 in British India when Mirza Ghulam Ahmad founded it.
Ahmadis regard him as a divinely guided reformer and the “promised messiah,” a figure said to have come to renew faith. Many Muslim scholars and institutions do not recognize Ahmadiyya as Muslim because Ahmadis hold beliefs about Mirza Ghulam Ahmad’s religious status that differ from the widely held view that Muhammad is the final prophet. Mirza described Ahmadiyya as “a revival movement in Islam” that emphasizes peace and service.
Like going to relatives
Long before establishing a mosque, Rochester Ahmadiyya families gathered together.
“We used to meet in private homes any time, especially on weekends,” says Tariq Chaudari, a longtime member of the Ahmadiyya community who arrived in Rochester after first living in New York City and New Jersey. He came to Rochester for work after studying pharmacy, he says, when a CVS store had an opening for a pharmacy intern.
By the time he arrived, Chaudari recalls, a few Ahmadiyya families were already here. The early community was not concentrated in one neighborhood. Families were spread across the region, and some traveled in from places as far as Wellsville, Ovid, Buffalo, and Utica for gatherings.
“People would host and it was always nice, like going to relatives or very good friends,” Chaudari says, “We had the same background and mission in life.”
Those gatherings, he adds, were worship, conversation and mutual support in one. “We would do the worship together and it was nice to catch up with everyone.”
A mosque on Merchants Road
By the late 1980s, the community felt large and stable enough to create a dedicated space. Chaudari remembers passing the future site of the mosque daily.
“The place used to be a union office for the postal workers,” he says. “It seemed like a good place for a mosque.”
From the outside, Chaudari recalls, it “looked like a typical house in Rochester.” Inside, it became “a nice hall.” It required renovation and changes to meet the community’s needs. “Tried to make it the best we could do,” he says.
The Merchants Road dedication also carried deep meaning for members, Chaudari says, as a sign that their movement, founded in India in 1889, had spread far beyond its point of origin, fulfilling the vision of its founder.
“We were all happy,” he sats. “We thanked God to be a part of the prophecy coming true.”
The project was funded by members themselves, Chaudari says, with support reaching beyond Rochester.
“We don’t take any money from anyone,” he says. “Members themselves do that.”
There was outreach and contributions from communities in places such as Binghamton, Syracuse and Utica.
Unusual attention
The 1989 dedication drew unusual attention for a small congregation. The Democrat and Chronicle described Mirza Tahir Ahmad as the leader of 10 million Ahmadi Muslims in 120 nations at the time, visiting Rochester as part of a larger tour.
Chaudari says his own responsibilities that day included receiving the leader and connecting with the media and guests. He invited reporters and local press, even though the community did not yet have much experience in how such events worked.
“My goal used to be this,” he says, referring to his efforts to invite media and guests and how he prayed that people would come for the visit. “By the grace of God, everyone showed up.”
For Chaudari, one of the strongest memories was how the dedication introduced the community to Rochester beyond the mosque’s doors.
“It was a nice introduction,” he says, “to show we are peaceful, involved, part of everything that goes on here.”
The Merchants Road site did not last forever. Chaudari says the community moved in the early 2000s.
Part of the reason was growth. Families were having children, he says, and the space began to feel small. But another factor was safety. The area around the mosque started to get unsafe, he says, and the building was broken into.
“The only thing we wanted to do was keep it safe,” he says. He describes the move as a practical choice. The result was a larger space that made community life easier.
The new site of the Baitun Naseer Mosque was on East Main Street, and the community continued to host interfaith programming that brought together faith leaders from Buddhist, Christian, Islamic, Jewish, Sikh, and other traditions. One rule of a signature event, Religious Founders’ Day, Chaudari says, was simple: participants could not criticize other religions; they could only speak about the goodness of their own founders and traditions.
“You cannot criticize anyone else’s practice,” Chaudari says. The purpose was to create a setting where neighbors could learn and connect without turning the evening into a debate.
Last November, Mirza arrived in Rochester after previously serving in Albany. He describes himself as a life devotee, meaning he has vowed to serve as an imam for life.
Mirza’s hopes, he says, are both internal and external: to deepen the faith and knowledge of congregation members, and to build relationships “with all faiths, all ethnic backgrounds.”
“Our mosque and our community (are) outwardly facing,” he says.
Soon after arriving, Mirza and community members visited neighbors near the mosque with small goodie bags to introduce themselves.
“We visited more than 50 people and let them know we are here for you,” he says. “If you ever need help, give us a call.”
In Mirza’s view, the impulse is rooted in theology. “In Islam the respect and devotion to neighbors is very strong,” he says.
On an ordinary week, Mirza says, the mosque’s rhythm is shaped by daily prayer, beginning with the pre-dawn prayer. Muslims pray five times per day, and Friday is typically the busiest day, with a sermon and additional learning. Mirza also leads a small session focused on hadith, the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad.
The community is organized into auxiliaries serving different age groups, including children, youth, elders and women’s groups.
“It is constantly busy,” he says, calling those groups independent but connected, “like the wheels of a car.”
Mirza estimates about 60 families are affiliated with the mosque, or about 220 members.
With Ramadan underway, both Mirza and Chaudari emphasize the month as discipline rather than deprivation.
“Ramadan is not just staying hungry,” Mirza says. He described it as a season of turning toward God, increasing charity, connecting with one another and growing in knowledge.
Chaudari calls it “a month of training on how to live the right way,” and a “refresher course” meant to bring people “back to the base.”
During Ramadan, he says, worship increases, and many strive to read the Qur’an in its entirety.
Living a motto
Both men return to a phrase that has been a motto for the Ahmadiyya community for decades: “Love for all, hatred for none.”
Mirza says it is a teaching that the community tries to live by.
“There are two ways to look at it,” Chaudari says. “Individually we practice that and as a community we practice it.”
He points to service as one expression: work at food kitchens, support for new families who arrive in Rochester, and help offered to refugees over the years. That work included assisting Bosnian refugees with food, furniture, and rides to appointments in the 1990s, during the wars in the former Yugoslavia.
Another long-running public program began after 9/11: a blood drive.
“The Muslims for Life blood drive began after 9/11,” Chaudari says. “We wanted to make sure we were a part of this.” The intention, he says, was to be visibly aligned with life and service, not violence: “Be the life givers, not the life takers.”
Mirza says the community often uses social media to share events and invite neighbors to visit. At the same time, he acknowledges the reality of hostility and misunderstanding, including negative comments online.
“We don’t take it to heart,” he says. “We try to educate.”
Ahmadiyya Muslims face persecution, Chaudari and Mirza say, including coordinated attacks on two Ahmadi mosques in Lahore, Pakistan, in 2010 that killed scores of worshippers. Mirza says the Rochester Ahmadiyya community’s response to persecution and misunderstanding has been continued openness and perseverance.
“We will continue to face opposition but we will not be deterred,” he says.
Both men say their relationships with other Muslims in Rochester are cordial. Members of Baitun Naseer also participate in local sports leagues that include players from other mosques and faith communities, providing another point of contact.
Chaudari, reflecting on the local Ahmadiyya community’s years of work, growth and public service, returns to the simplest summary.
“Basically love for all, hatred for none,” he says. “We practice that not only as a slogan but we try to live it.”
Austin Albanese is a Rochester-based writer and historian whose work focuses on local histories, civic memory, and interfaith life.
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