Hajj: A Spiritual Rebirth: Context – Shaykh Abdul-Rahim Reasat

This is the second of seven articles based on the Hajj: A Spiritual Rebirth seminar, delving into the spirit, context, virtues and etiquettes of the Hajj.

When going for Hajj, pilgrims usually begin with Umra.

On the 8th of Dhul-Hijjah, they go to Mina and spend the night.

On the 9th, they travel to the plain of Arafat and spend the day in worship.

Then they move to Muzdalifa, collect pebbles, and return to Mina for the stoning of the Jamarat, which commemorates Ibrahim rejecting Shaytan’s attempts to deter him from sacrificing his son.

They then offer the sacrifice, return to Makkah for Tawaf, and go back to Mina for more days of worship and stoning.

But just describing these steps isn’t enough. Understanding the context and the deep stories behind these acts, especially what Ibrahim and his family went through, is essential. Their patience, submission, and love for Allah are what give these rituals meaning.

Everyone who goes for Hajj or Umra should carry these stories in their hearts. These are the stations and actions of great individuals chosen by Allah. And though we may never reach their level, we can strive to follow in their footsteps and become true slaves of Allah.

Let’s look at the context of the sacred sites of Hajj. We’ll explore four major events in this and upcoming articles tied to Prophet Ibrahim (Peace be upon him), his wife Hajar (Allah be pleased with her), and his son Ismail (Peace be upon him).

The Backstory

Ibrahim (Peace be upon him) was originally married to Sarah (Allah be pleased with her), and for a long time, they couldn’t have children. As a Prophet, he traveled to spread the message of Tawhid. On one of these journeys, he ended up in Egypt, where the king had ill intentions toward Sarah. However, Allah protected her, and the king, perhaps out of fear or respect, gave her a slave woman, Hajar, as a gift. 

Hajar eventually became like a wife to Ibrahim (Peace be upon him), and Sarah, out of love and a sincere desire for Ibrahim to have a child, gave her to him willingly. Hajar gave birth to Ismail (Peace be upon him), and in doing so, fulfilled something Sarah deeply wanted for her husband.

This shows her sincerity and the deep love she had for Ibrahim (Peace be upon him). She couldn’t have children herself, as Allah mentions in the Quran. Wanting her husband to have progeny, she made a selfless decision.

Clearing Misconceptions

The biblical version of this story says Sarah became jealous and forced Ibrahim to send Hajar and Ismail away. This version is problematic, it contradicts the noble character of these people. Ibrahim (Peace be upon him) wouldn’t have done something unjust or cruel. The reality is, the separation wasn’t out of jealousy, but part of Allah’s plan and a test for everyone involved, Sarah, Hajar, and Ibrahim.

When Allah commanded Ibrahim (Peace be upon him) to take Hajar and Ismail to the barren desert, it was a massive test. Imagine Sarah’s pain, being attached to the child she helped bring into the family. Imagine Hajar being left in the desert with her baby. And imagine Ibrahim, who had waited so long for a son, walking away from him in obedience to Allah.

The Nature of Tests

This is the essence of slavery to Allah, ubudiyya. Allah tests us with things we love, things we think we need. But behind every test is goodness, even if we can’t see it. Our problem is that we are impatient. We want comfort now, ease now, success now.

If you asked people how they want their life to go, many would say: “I want to be a billionaire, problem-free, living in peace.” But what they don’t realize is that the struggle, the pain, the waiting, these are what earn us immense reward. 

For example, on the Day of Judgment, the poor will enter Paradise before the rich, half a day earlier. That might not sound like much, but half a day in the Hereafter could be like 500 years in our time, depending on how you interpret the verse.

So if you had your billions in this world but missed out on struggle, patience, and reliance on Allah, you might be waiting far longer to enter Paradise, and missing out on countless rewards, including the ultimate closeness to Allah.

Ibrahim, being a prophet, received commands from Allah, though it appears he might not have been given all the details right away. For instance, consider how Ya’qub (Jacob) knew that Yusuf (Joseph) would become a prophet. Yet, when Yusuf was taken away by his brothers, Yaqub still grieved deeply for many years. Why? Because even though he believed something good would eventually come of it, the how and when remained unclear.

A father’s love for his child runs deep. Fathers, like mothers, love their children intensely, but there’s an added dimension, fathers are protectors and guides. Their love carries the weight of responsibility.

Now think about Ibrahim. Imagine yearning for a child for decades, praying, hoping, and waiting. And then, after all those years, he’s finally blessed with a son. But soon after, Allah tests him. That alone is a reminder: every blessing in life is a test.

So he’s commanded to take his wife and child, Hajar and baby Ismail, to a barren desert. Picture the route: perhaps they were descending from Hebron at the time.

Let’s pause and reflect on the name Makkah.

What does “Makkah” actually mean? The city has two known names in scripture: Makkah and Bakka. In the Quran, Allah says that the first house built for humanity, for worship, was in Bakka. That’s the ancient name. You’ll even find it in the Bible as Becca.

Allah uses the word Bakka in the verse about the first house, the sacred house, perhaps to emphasize its deep, ancient significance.

Now, the word Makkah itself is rooted in a verb that means to extract something, or to suck something out. Think of someone sipping broth from a bone, sucking out the marrow, that’s the kind of image tied to the root of the word. Why? Because they say Makkah “sucks out” the sins of a person. One who goes there with a humble, devoted heart has their sins removed, returning pure, like the day they were born, as the hadith mentions.

Bakka, on the other hand, comes from a root that means to exert force, like striking someone hard or pushing them aside. It symbolizes driving away oppressors and tyrants. This ties into historical moments, like when the arrogant general Abraha built his own grand temple to divert the Arabs from the Ka’ba. But someone from the Arabs desecrated it in protest, and he saw this as an affront.

In ancient times, the Ka’ba wasn’t just a building, it was the heart of the Arabian Peninsula. It was sacred to all. Imagine today if someone built a huge temple right next to the Vatican, it would be seen as a massive provocation.

So Abraha vowed to destroy the Ka’ba. But look what happened: these two reactions, one humble, one arrogant, represent two outcomes. A humble visitor has their sins wiped away. An arrogant one is destroyed.

Now, imagine the journey Ibrahim took. Picture it, an elderly man, finally blessed with a child he cherishes more than anything on earth, being told to take his family far away. He walks hundreds of miles. He hasn’t told Hajar what awaits them at the end of the journey. He can’t. He knows what’s coming, but she doesn’t.

How must he have felt the entire way? Every step brings him closer to separation, from the wife and child he loves dearly.

This was an immense trial for Ibrahim. And consider the context: Ibrahim was honored by Allah in a way that no one before him had been. Depending on interpretation, he may be the greatest human after the Prophet Muhammad (Allah bless him and give him peace), or among a very small group of exalted prophets and messengers.

He received gifts, miracles, and the light of faith from Allah. Some people reach a level where their faith becomes so sweet, so fulfilling, that they would choose it over anything else.

The Prophet (Allah bless him and give him peace) once said there will be people in his ummah who would gladly give up all their wealth, even their families, just to see him once. That’s the depth of love and faith they possess.

Ibrahim had a duty, a role and a responsibility, before Allah. This wasn’t something optional or voluntary, like joining a community group or club. One of the issues we face today is that people, even those who criticize such matters, fail to understand this reality. It’s not about being part of some organization; it’s about recognizing the existence of a perfect, powerful, generous, and awe-inspiring Lord. 

Even those who deny Him or reject Him completely, He still blesses them. He gives them gifts, loved ones, and good things throughout their lives, even while they may be openly defying or mocking Him. But His existence comes with implications. Whether you accept it or not, you are still His servant. The only choice is whether to be a willing servant or a rebellious one. Either way, you are under His dominion.

When someone truly sees who Allah is, and recognizes the countless favors He has given them, it changes everything. Just take a moment: your eyesight, your hearing, your heartbeat. You had no hand in developing any of this. When your eyes were forming in your mother’s womb, neither you nor your parents had any involvement. 

Consider the complexity of your eye, how many tiny components work in harmony? Or think about your circulatory system, the way your heart pumps blood, the mechanics of your hearing: sound waves hit the eardrum, create vibrations, and somehow those get translated into electrical signals your brain interprets. Why is it that one person perceives a sound as loud and another doesn’t? That consistency in interpretation didn’t come out of nowhere. 

Allah has given you all these blessings. Think about your fingernails. Try writing without them, don’t actually try it, but imagine. Without nails, there’s no proper support behind your fingers to hold a pen. Try functioning without your thumb, tape it to your palm for a day and try lifting a saucepan or using your phone. See how life changes. Even with tools like computers, you’ll notice the effort increases. 

Most of the conveniences in your life are not your doing, they’re gifts from Allah. When a person recognizes this flood of blessings, they choose willingly to submit to Him. 

That submission becomes even more significant in times of uncertainty, which is a big part of the human experience. Not knowing how something will turn out is part of the test. That’s where trust in Allah comes in, you hand it over to Him and trust that He’ll take care of it.

At the end of all this reflection, we see a powerful dua (supplication) from Ibrahim:

He said:  

“Our Lord, I have settled some of my descendants in a barren valley near Your sacred house, so that they may establish prayer. So make the hearts of people incline toward them, and provide for them from fruits so that they may be grateful.”

What is Ibrahim saying here? He’s not just informing Allah of what he did, Allah already knows. He’s pleading, he’s begging. “My Lord, I’ve left my family in this valley where nothing grows, where there’s no agriculture, no food. It’s completely in Your hands now. Please, You take care of them.”

So he places the start of his lineage in this barren land, a place where, in Arabic, the phrasing literally indicates that nothing grows. He’s emphasizing the severity of the environment.

He continues: “Near Your sacred house.” There’s scholarly debate about who built the Ka’ba first, some say Adam, some say angels, but the strongest and most supported view is that it was built by Ibrahim and his son Ismail. Years later, Ibrahim would also construct the mosque in Jerusalem.

So the location itself is sacred. Other prophets like Nuh, Musa, and Yunus are said to have visited that exact spot to perform a version of Hajj as it was prescribed to them.

Above the Ka’ba in the sky is a heavenly counterpart, and in the seventh heaven resides Prophet Ibrahim. The Prophet Muhammad (Allah bless him and give him peace) said that Ibrahim resembled him more than anyone else, white hair, white beard, leaning against the heavenly Ka’ba, where angels perform tawaf.

Ibrahim left his family there by Allah’s command, for one reason:  

“So that they may establish prayer.”  

Meaning, so that they would be people who pray and have a direct, personal relationship with Allah, dedicated to worship and pleasing Him.

Then he asks: “So make people’s hearts incline toward them.” Not just to help them settle and form a society, but so others will yearn for the Ka’ba and feel connected to those around it.

And finally: “Provide for them from fruits.”  

Why fruits? Because when you’re starving, you reach for filling food, meat, bread, rice, not grapes. Fruits are usually delicacies, desserts. Mentioning fruits is a way of asking Allah not just for basic sustenance but for abundant, enjoyable provision, even luxuries.

Some of the righteous have said that true servitude to Allah involves removing every human trait that conflicts with that servitude. For example, stubbornness, while it may sometimes be useful in life, is not a positive quality when it comes to submitting to Allah. Being stubborn in worship is a terrible trait. So, to be a true slave of Allah means purging yourself of qualities like arrogance or stubbornness, anything that contradicts full submission. 

In this moment, Ibrahim’s attachment to his son and to his son’s mother is undeniably strong, but he still puts his devotion and obedience to Allah first. As a messenger, his standard is much higher than ours, so we can’t look at it from our own emotional framework and say, “That’s unfair.” If you truly understood what he experienced, you’d realize just how immense that moment was. 

It’s like when a police car is behind you with its lights flashing, you immediately pull over. That’s out of recognition of their authority. When you recognize the power and perfection of Allah, you know you must submit, without hesitation. That’s where Ibrahim was spiritually, and that’s the level he operated at.

So, Ibrahim, filled with love, paused and said, “Oh Lord, I’ve left them. Oh Allah, please take care of them.” He was pleading with Allah for the well-being of his loved ones. That was his test. And honestly, who among us could pass such a test? If you were given a similar trial, could you go through with it? Most people couldn’t, and that’s why Allah, in His kindness, gives each person a test tailored to their own capacity.

The Prophet (peace be upon him) said the people who face the hardest trials are the prophets. Then come those who resemble them most in character, and then those who resemble that group, and so on. A person’s test reflects their relationship with Allah. If someone has a strong bond with Him, they’re given tougher challenges, because that closeness gives them the tools to handle it and come out better for it. If someone’s connection is weaker, then the tests are lighter, maybe to gently direct them toward Allah. But no one is left untested.

And please, repent sincerely. Even for things like desiring junk food, not because it’s sinful in itself, but because overindulgence or ungratefulness can creep in. The Messenger of Allah didn’t prohibit enjoyment of food, but he encouraged gratitude in everything, even in eating.

So Ibrahim left. What an immense trial that was. Think about when you perform Hajj, some people say, “Hajj cost me £10,000” or however much. But the better way to look at it is, “I was honored to spend that for the sake of Allah.” Would you rather spend that money or leave your children in a barren valley with no people, no water, no food, just because Allah commanded you? Most couldn’t do it. So spend with an open, grateful heart.

This is the first lesson: you obey the commands of Allah to the best of your ability. If you fall short, if you slip, repent. Say, “Oh Allah, forgive me.” Try to correct your course. Servitude to Allah means living by the principle: we hear and we obey. And where you struggle, you keep striving, it’s a lifelong process.

Even among the early generations, most scholars and righteous individuals didn’t reach spiritual maturity instantly. It was a journey. Some reached what they called the “permanent prostration”, a constant internal state of submission and closeness to Allah. Some even said they reached that at age 70. But it’s a process for most people, at 30, 40, 60, whatever age.

So if you’re going on Hajj, keep this point in mind.