As Abdullah Pocius walks down the street, it’s difficult to pick him out as a religious leader. In his ultra-hip neighborhood, he blends with the crowd.

“If I walk down Girard with my long, full beard, t-shirt and shorts on,” Pocius said, “I look like your average run-of-the-mill Northern Liberties hipster dude.”

While he may look like the bass player of the band you saw at Johnny Brenda’s last night, Pocius is actually the Muslim worship leader — or Imam — of the Albanian Masjid in Northern Liberties, which is believed to be the oldest Mosque in Philadelphia according to a 1999 article in The Inquirer.

Raised in the North Side of Chicago, Pocius lived the life of a working class Polish Catholic. Family traditions were ingrained in his identity and he refers to his upbringing as one of “Jon Stewart liberal values.” His childhood would be considered typical of any kid in America.

In his more formative years, however, simple questions about his faith turned into larger ones that couldn’t be answered. It wasn’t until entering high school in 2000 that Pocius found the answers and guidance he was seeking in the religion of Islam.

“We had moved from one neighborhood to another so I wasn’t around most of the same people anymore,” Pocius said. “The friends that I did have though, they kinda looked at me in an ignorant way, thinking that this was the brown man’s religion type of thing and what’s up with that.”

Pocius quickly became accustomed to the questions his friends would ask and the innocent confusion that would follow. But this relatively simple acclimation period would not prepare him for many people’s hostile reaction toward Muslims after 9/11, just one year later.

“When 9/11 hit, that’s when [people were] like, ‘What’s good with you?’” Pocius said. He thought of it lightheartedly in retrospect saying, “Thank God I had already been a Muslim for a year.”

“I remember coming home that day [9/11/2001]. My mom was sitting on the couch with that ‘I found a joint in your room’ look and ‘you got some explaining to do, mister.’ I remember distinctly being like, ‘Mom come on, you are watching Fox News, turn on BBC.’ Once she saw the tragedy presented in a different way — in that not all Muslims were evil — she calmed down.”

That sort of willingness to listen wasn’t lost on Pocius. Even before converting to Islam, a home-environment he describes as one of understanding and tolerance contributed to Pocius’ desire to search for clarity.

“I was just reading everything, biographies of everyone I could get my hands on. From Ghandi, to Martin Luther King… reading about history,” Pocius said.

History led Pocius to the text of Malcolm X. But it was not in the sense of learning about the black experience or a social justice movement — it was the final chapter of Malcolm’s transformation chronicled in his biography that really stood out to Pocius.

“It’s interesting because [Malcolm X] was someone that was a reactionary figure for so long in his life — reacting to poverty, reacting to racism. But the final chapter was really him going to a place where everybody was there to worship God and God alone,” Pocius said. “Then he realized that if you are stuck in a crazy horrible situation, it still does not justify crazy horrible actions.”

The values he took from Malcolm X and his own family have led to a deep appreciation and a life’s devotion to Islam, the past eight years of which Pocius has spent in the Riverwards.

Today, he leads a congregation of around 300 people near the corner of 2nd Street and Girard Avenue. The specific type of Islam followed by Pocius and those who worship at the Masjid (Mosque) is Salafi Islam. In simple terms, this means they follow the Prophet Muhammad and his first three generations of followers almost exclusively.

“All Salafis derive their name from the word Salaf-e-Saliheen which means ‘pious predecessors.’ They believe that these first three generations should be emulated and imitated in as many spheres of life as possible,” Dr. Joas Wagemakers, an Assistant Professor of Islamic Studies at Utrecht University in the Netherlands, said. Wagemakers specializes in the study of Salafism.

In addition to traditional teachings and texts, Pocius and his Salafi followers also rely on past and present day Islamic scholars they deem accredited within their sect of Islam.

“We always look at situations through the lens of ‘how did the early generations understand Islam?’” Pocius said. “This knowledge is critical to our understanding in that we refer our important theological affairs back to scholars.”

Wagemakers further defines the brand of Islam Pocius follows as “Quietist Salafi Islam.” Both Wagemakers and Pocius point to texts that they believe make “crystal clear” that Quietists see the protection of social cohesion and nonviolence in almost all circumstances as tantamount to ensuring the pious practice of Salafism. Quietist Salafi Islam is one of the largest sects of the Muslim community, both globally and here in Philadelphia.

Esa, 43, is originally from Baltimore and has lived in Philadelphia for the past seven years. He has spent much of that time as a member of the Masjid and a follower of Pocius. For Esa, Pocius was a huge influence.

“I have been to other Salafi Masjid’s, but then I came here,” Esa said.

“What made it stand out was Abdullah [Pocius]. He knows how to give a sermon very well, straight to the point. He does not speak of his own opinions. He speaks from the scholars and what the people of the past said and that’s how we are supposed to follow this religion.”

Abdul Malik Amari, 27, another member of the the Masjid, joined the mosque after Esa.

“We have five prayers a day and after each one [Pocius] does a little lecture,” Amari said. “He may talk about marriage or brotherhood — really about a wide range of topics. So not only do you pray and just leave, but you can ponder on these thoughts and really think about them.”

Thomas Lawson, another member of the Masjid said, “the Imam [Pocius] is really knowledgeable in the affairs that affect the local community as well as, a lot of the affairs nationally and globally. Because of that, a lot of different cultures gather here because they feel like they can relate.”

On a scorching Friday in the early part of July, the large, open space on the ground floor of the Masjid is filled with those taking part in Friday prayer. It is packed from wall to wall with American Muslims and a few immigrants from the Middle East and Europe. But the largest group in attendance is a population of African-Americans. According to a 2014 article in The Inquirer, of the 200,000 Muslims living in Philadelphia, at least 85 percent of them are black.

Pocius, Esa and others insist that they are open to everyone in the community. A large portion of the people who come to the Masjid are from outside the boundaries of the Riverwards, but Abdullah sees them as just as much a part of our community as anyone else.

“Are most of the people that come [to the Masjid] Northern Liberties people? No. They are from the projects, you know… They are people that are in the peripheral vision of the good that is happening in this particular area,” Pocius said.

He continued: “For example, some of the guys who come to the Masjid come from 10th and Thompson. That’s one of the worst neighborhoods in America. One of the beautiful things that Islam has done is that it has allowed [community members] to develop brotherhood and neighbourliness. These are things that don’t exist in some of these communities.”

Pocius sees his preaching in the Riverwards as a way to partly rehabilitate many people from communities whose streets are burdened with issues such as drug addiction and violence, that surrounds many communities in North Philadelphia.

Emily Goshey visited the Albanian Masjid in 2013 while studying at University of Pennsylvania for her BA in Near Eastern Languages and Religious Studies. Upon Goshey’s arrival, Pocius brought her before one of his followers who sold crack cocaine before coming to the Masjid. Pocius encouraged the former drug dealer to tell their guest his story.

“And I said to her,” Pocius recounted, “this guy right here is committed more to working harder at his own life than he has ever been before and the reason for that is Islam.”

In an interview with The Spirit Goshey confirmed this exchange. She is currently a graduate student at Princeton University, where her research has adapted to focus on modern Islamic/Islamist movements, along with race and religion.

“That experience that Pocius recounted and that individual shared with me, that’s a story I have seen over and over and over again,” Goshey said. “For example, for people who are currently incarcerated, finding Islam was a turning point for the vast majority of them and now they are deeply committed to being upstanding members of society. They would attribute that entire transformation to Islam, specifically the more Quietist Salafi Islam.”

Those who congregate at the Albanian Masjid in Northern Liberties believe that their community has shown that Salafism can play an important role in moving people forward.

“I will speak openly that I have had problems with substance abuse in my life and I had to make peace with Allah and turn it over,” Esa, one of Pocius’ congregants said. “From my experience coming here, I am hearing a person admonishing, saying ‘fear God in the actions you have committed,’ but at the same time saying ‘there is always hope.’ If you repent and turn back, God will help you.”

“It’s action, it’s not lip service. A lot of my life I have been living, in a sense, as an apple tree, but with no growing apples on it,” Esa added. “It’s a beautiful tree but it’s just a tree in the way. So now I try to grow some fruit — it might be little crabapples now but at least it’s fruit.”

But not everyone at the Masjid have followed Esa’s path out of addiction. According to him, old and entrenched mindsets can prove difficult to break.

“If you’re a person who comes to the Masjid and does not learn or acts like a fool, then he is a fool who comes to the Masjid,” Esa said.

Regardless of the positive growth exhibited by members of Pocius’ Masjid and other members of the Philadelphia Islamic community, there are many modern and valid cultural concerns revolving around the teachings of Islam, largely extending from social issues. Principled opposition to same sex marriage and the role of women in society are problematic ideologies in modern American society. But the actions of those who preach and practice Islam have been rehabilitative and important to members of the community.

“You got people who pray with each other in this Masjid who may have, at one point, shot each other’s friends on the street and have now forgiven each other,” Pocius said. “Other ideologies and being out on the street saying ‘I’m trying to get this money’ doesn’t do that.