Prophet Ibrahimإبراهيم

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a frightening place. Picture the biggest fire you have ever seen. Flames roaring higher than the houses... higher than the trees... turning the whole sky orange. The heat so strong... that no one can stand anywhere near it.

And there, with his hands tied, a brave man is being lifted up... and turned toward the roaring flames. In just a moment... they are going to throw him... into the fire.

Oh... will he be alright? Whatever is going to happen to him?

To find out... we have to go all the way back. Back to discover how this brave man ever ended up here... at the very edge of a roaring fire. His name is Ibrahim, alayhi salaam. And his story begins... when he was just a boy... gazing up at the evening stars.

The boy who questioned the stars

A long, long time ago... in a land far away... there lived a boy named Ibrahim.

His people did not know Allāh. They worshipped statues made of wood and stone. They worshipped the sun and the moon and the stars.

But Ibrahim... knew the truth in his heart. And he wanted his people to see it too.

One evening... when the sun went down... Ibrahim went out among his people.

The sky turned from gold to soft blue. And then... darker... and darker.

A bright star appeared in the sky. Shining so beautifully... brighter than all the others.

Ibrahim pointed up at the star. And he asked his people...

"Could this be my Lord?"

They watched it together for a long time. And then... slowly... the star began to fade. The light grew weaker. And it disappeared from the sky.

Ibrahim shook his head. And he said... "I do not love things that disappear."

Then... the moon rose. Big and round and silver. Brighter than any star.

Ibrahim pointed up at the moon. And he said... "Could this be my Lord? This one is greater."

But as the night went on... the moon began to set. Slowly... it sank below the hills.

Ibrahim said... "If my Lord does not guide me... I will be lost."

And then... the morning came. The sun rose over the desert. So bright... so warm... so powerful.

And Ibrahim said... "Could this be my Lord? This is the greatest of them all."

But as the day passed... the sun crossed the sky... and slowly... it began to set.

And then Ibrahim turned to his people.

Allāh was not the star. Allāh was not the moon. Allāh was not the sun.

Allāh was the One who made all of them.

The One who never disappears. The One who never sets. The One who is always... always there.

Ibrahim turned his face to the sky. And he said... "I have turned my face toward the One who created the heavens and the earth. I will never give Him a partner."

The idols and the axe

Ibrahim grew older. And his heart grew braver.

All around him... his people were still bowing down to statues. They had built a great temple. Inside it stood many idols. Big ones... and small ones.

The people brought food to them. They prayed to them.

But the statues did not move. They did not breathe. They did not answer.

Ibrahim spoke to his people. Gently at first. "These statues cannot hear you. They cannot help you. Why do you worship them?"

But his people would not listen.

So Ibrahim... made a plan.

One day... a great festival was coming. The whole town was going out to celebrate. They left Ibrahim behind.

When the streets were quiet... Ibrahim walked into the temple. He stood among the idols.

He said... "Will you not eat? Why do you not speak?"

But the statues did not move.

Ibrahim picked up an axe. And one by one... he broke the small idols. Until only the biggest one was left standing.

And then... he placed the axe in the hands of the biggest idol.

And he walked out.

When the people came back... they ran into the temple. They saw the broken statues. They saw the axe.

And they cried out... "Who did this?"

Someone said... "It was Ibrahim."

So they brought him before the whole town.

"Did you do this, Ibrahim?"

And Ibrahim... calm and clever... pointed to the biggest idol still standing.

"Why don't you ask the big one? The axe is in his hand. Ask them, if they can speak."

The people were silent. They looked at each other. They looked at the floor.

In their hearts... they whispered... "These statues cannot speak. These statues cannot do anything."

For one small moment... the truth shone in their hearts.

But then their pride came back. And they grew very angry.

The fire that became cool

The king of the land was named Namrud. And he said... "Build a fire. The biggest fire anyone has ever seen."

For days... the people gathered wood. They piled it higher than the houses. Higher than the trees.

And then they lit it.

The flames rose so high... the whole sky glowed orange. The heat was so strong... no one could even stand close.

They tied Ibrahim's hands. They placed him in a giant catapult... a machine made to throw him from far away.

Because no one could get close enough to the fire.

And in that moment... while the whole world was against him... Ibrahim was calm.

He whispered... "Hasbunā Allāhu wa niʿma al-wakīl. Allāh is enough for us. He is the best protector."

And then... they launched him into the fire.

But Allāh commanded the fire.

He said... "Yā nāru kūnī bardan wa salāman ʿalā Ibrahim."

"O fire... be coolness... and peace... upon Ibrahim."

And the fire... obeyed.

The flames were still tall. The wood was still burning. But for Ibrahim... the fire was gentle.

It was cool like a spring breeze. It was peaceful like a quiet garden.

The ropes around his hands fell away. He sat in the middle of the fire... safe... and calm.

And do you remember, little one... how our story began? A brave man, his hands tied, about to be thrown into the fire... and we wondered, will he be alright? Well. Here is your answer. He is more than alright. He is sitting, calm and safe and peaceful... in the very heart of the flames.

When the flames finally calmed... Ibrahim walked out. Safe. Calm. Just as Allāh had promised.

The people did not know what to say.

Some of them turned to Allāh that day. They saw the truth.

The long journey

After the fire... Ibrahim could not stay in his homeland anymore.

Even his own father, whom Ibrahim loved very much, would not turn to Allāh. Ibrahim had spoken to him gently. He had prayed for him many, many times. But his father chose his idols instead.

It made Ibrahim's heart sad. But he kept loving Allāh. And he kept loving his father in his duʿās.

He said... "I will go to my Lord. He will guide me."

"Innī dhāhibun ilā rabbī sayahdīn."

He gathered his small family. His wife Sarah. His nephew Lūṭ.

And together... they set out into the unknown.

They walked for days. And weeks. And months. Through hot deserts. Through cool nights.

And every step of the way... Ibrahim trusted Allāh.

After many years... Allāh blessed Ibrahim with another companion. A kind woman named Hajar.

And then... after many years of waiting... Allāh gave Ibrahim and Hajar a son.

His name... was Ismaʿīl.

A baby. A long-awaited baby. A gift from Allāh after so many prayers.

Ibrahim held his son... and tears came to his eyes.

He whispered... "Alhamdulillāh."

Hajar and the spring of Zamzam

But Allāh asked Ibrahim to do something difficult.

He asked him to take Hajar... and their baby son Ismaʿīl... and travel far, far away. To a valley with no people. No houses. No water.

A place called... Makkah.

Ibrahim brought them to that quiet valley. He left them with a small bag of dates... and a small skin of water.

And then... it was time for him to go.

Hajar held her baby close. She called out... "Where are you going? Are you leaving us in this valley?"

Ibrahim did not answer. His heart was heavy.

She asked again. And then one more thing...

"Did Allāh command you to do this?"

Ibrahim turned to her... and he said... "Yes."

And Hajar... brave Hajar... whispered... "Then Allāh will not let us be lost."

Ibrahim walked away. And before he was out of sight... he turned toward the empty valley... and made duʿā.

He said... "Our Lord, I have settled some of my family in a valley with no crops, near Your sacred House. So that they may establish prayer. Make the hearts of people lean toward them."

"Rabbanā taqabbal minnā."

Days passed. The water in the small skin ran out.

The baby Ismaʿīl began to cry. He was thirsty. So thirsty.

Hajar looked around for help. But there was no one.

So she ran. She ran to the closest hill. A hill called Ṣafā.

She climbed to the top. She looked across the valley. There was nothing.

So she ran down... and across the valley... to another hill. A hill called Marwa.

She climbed up. She looked. Nothing.

She ran back to Ṣafā. And then back to Marwa. Again. And again.

Seven times.

Her feet were tired. Her heart was breaking. But she did not give up.

And then... back near her baby... she heard something.

A sound like... water.

She ran to where Ismaʿīl was lying. And right there... right next to his little feet... water was bursting up from the ground.

Cool. Clear. Beautiful water.

Hajar gasped. She bent down. She tried to gather the water with her hands.

She said... "Zam zam." Stay here, stay here.

And the water did stay. And it has been flowing... for thousands of years.

That spring is still there today. Right next to the Kaʿba in Makkah.

And those two hills... Ṣafā and Marwa... where Hajar walked back and forth... every Muslim who goes for Hajj or ʿUmrah walks between them too.

Seven times. Just like Hajar did.

Building the Kaʿba

Many years passed.

The little baby Ismaʿīl... had grown into a strong young man.

The empty valley of Makkah... had become a home.

And Ibrahim came to visit his son.

And Allāh gave Ibrahim a special command.

"Build a house. A house for Me. A place where people will come from every corner of the earth... to worship Me."

Ibrahim turned to his son. And he said... "Ismaʿīl... Allāh has commanded us to build His house. Will you help me?"

And Ismaʿīl smiled. "Yes, my father. I will help."

So father and son... began to build.

Ismaʿīl carried the heavy stones. Big ones. Small ones.

And Ibrahim... his hands strong from years of work... placed each stone carefully on top of the last.

When the walls grew tall... and Ibrahim could not reach... Ismaʿīl brought him a special stone to stand on.

A stone that today... we still call... Maqām Ibrahim. The standing-place of Ibrahim.

And as they worked... they made duʿā together.

"Rabbanā taqabbal minnā. Innaka anta as-Samīʿ ul-ʿAlīm."

"Our Lord, accept this from us. You are the All-Hearing... the All-Knowing."

Stone by stone. Brick by brick. With every prayer rising up to Allāh.

When they finished... Ibrahim raised his hands and made one more duʿā.

"Our Lord, send among them a messenger from themselves... who will recite Your verses to them."

Allāh heard that prayer.

And thousands of years later... in that same valley... a baby boy would be born.

His name was Muḥammad. Sallallāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam.

The final messenger. The answer to Ibrahim's duʿā.

The dream and the ram

Ibrahim loved his son Ismaʿīl very much.

But Allāh wanted Ibrahim's love to be known... to every generation... until the end of time.

So Allāh sent Ibrahim a dream.

In the dream... Ibrahim saw himself making the greatest sacrifice for Allāh.

He saw himself... offering his beloved son.

A dream from Allāh is a message.

So Ibrahim sat with his son. And gently... softly... he told him.

"My beloved Ismaʿīl... I have seen in a dream that I must offer you to Allāh. What do you think?"

And young Ismaʿīl... brave Ismaʿīl... looked at his father with calm eyes.

He said... "My dear father... do what you have been commanded. You will find me, in shā Allāh, among the patient ones."

Ismaʿīl was not afraid.

Because Ismaʿīl loved Allāh more than he loved his own life.

So they walked together... father and son... toward a quiet hill.

When they reached it... Ibrahim laid his son down softly upon the ground. As the Qurʾān tells us... they had both submitted to Allāh.

He whispered... "Bismillāh."

But in that very moment... Allāh called out from the heavens.

"Yā Ibrahim! O Ibrahim! Stop! You have already fulfilled the dream."

Ibrahim stopped.

And right there... on the hill... Allāh provided a beautiful ram. A great sacrifice in place of Ismaʿīl.

A gift from Allāh. A mercy for Ibrahim and his son.

The Qurʾān tells us... "wa fadaynāhu bi-dhibḥin ʿaẓīm." We ransomed him with a great sacrifice.

Ibrahim's heart filled with joy. He hugged his son. Tears in his eyes.

His Ismaʿīl was safe.

Allāh's command had been a great test... and the meaning of the test was Ibrahim's trust.

And Ibrahim had given it. Without holding back.

Allāh said... "Salāmun ʿalā Ibrahim." Peace upon Ibrahim.

And Allāh promised... that this story would be told... in every generation... until the end of time.

That is why... every year... Muslims all over the world celebrate Eid al-Aḍḥā.

The day we remember their love. Their trust. And the mercy of Allāh.

And so

Little one... Ibrahim's whole life was a journey of trust.

He trusted Allāh as a boy looking at the stars. He trusted Allāh in the fire. He trusted Allāh in the empty desert. He trusted Allāh on the quiet hill.

And every time he trusted... Allāh gave him more than he ever imagined.

A spring in the desert. A son who grew into a prophet. A house that millions of people would visit. A grandson born thousands of years later... who would be the final messenger.

That is what trust does, little one.

When you give Allāh your heart... He multiplies your blessings beyond what you can see.

And now... slowly... we leave that long-ago world behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry Ibrahim with you, wherever you go. Because whenever something feels frightening... or far too big... you can whisper the very words he whispered, as they lifted him toward the fire. They mean... Allah is enough for me... and He is the best protector.

*Ḥasbunā-llāhu... wa niʿma-l-wakīl.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a wide desert land... at the end of the day... just as the sun goes down and the very first stars come out.

And here we are.

Feel the cool evening air. Look up... as the sky turns from gold... to soft blue... to deep, deep dark. And standing here, beneath that darkening sky, is a boy named Ibrahim, alayhi salaam.

His people did not know Allāh. They worshipped statues made of wood and stone. They worshipped the sun and the moon and the stars.

But Ibrahim... knew the truth in his heart. And he wanted his people to see it too.

One evening... when the sun went down... Ibrahim went out among his people.

The sky turned from gold to soft blue. And then... darker... and darker.

A bright star appeared in the sky. Shining so beautifully... brighter than all the others.

Ibrahim pointed up at the star. And he asked his people...

"Could this be my Lord?"

They watched it together for a long time. And then... slowly... the star began to fade. The light grew weaker. And it disappeared from the sky.

Ibrahim shook his head. And he said... "I do not love things that disappear."

Then... the moon rose.

Big and round and silver. Brighter than any star. Lighting up the whole desert.

And Ibrahim pointed up at the moon. And he asked his people again...

"Could this be my Lord? This one is greater."

But as the night went on... the moon began to set. Slowly... it sank below the hills. And the sky grew dark again.

Ibrahim said... "If my Lord does not guide me... I will be lost."

And then... the morning came.

The sun rose over the desert. So bright they could barely look at it. So warm. So powerful.

And Ibrahim said... "Could this be my Lord? This is the greatest of them all."

But as the day passed... the sun crossed the sky... and slowly... it began to set.

It dipped low... lower... and disappeared behind the mountains.

And then Ibrahim turned to his people.

He said... "My people, I am free of what you worship. I have turned my face toward the One who created the heavens and the earth. I will never give Him a partner."

Allāh was not the star. Allāh was not the moon. Allāh was not the sun.

Allāh was the One who made all of them.

The One who never disappears. The One who never sets. The One who is always... always there.

And now... slowly... we leave that desert evening behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry young Ibrahim with you, wherever you go. The next time you look up at the stars... remember: everything in the sky comes, and everything in the sky goes. But Allah remains. He is the One who made you. The One who watches over you. And He is closer to you... than your very own heart.

So carry Ibrahim's words with you. They mean... I have turned my face toward the One who made the heavens and the earth.

*Innī wajjahtu wajhiya lilladhī faṭara-s-samāwāti wa-l-arḍ.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a town from long ago... where a young man is about to do something very brave.

And here we are.

This young man is Ibrahim, alayhi salaam. He is older now, and wise. And he knows the truth, deep in his heart: that there is only One Lord... only One Creator... only Allah.

But all around him... his people were still bowing down to statues.

They had built a great temple. Inside it stood many idols. Made of wood. Made of stone. Big ones... and small ones.

The people brought food to them. They prayed to them. They believed these statues could help them.

But Ibrahim... his heart was sad.

He said to his people... gently at first... "These statues cannot hear you. They cannot see you. They cannot help you. Why do you worship them?"

But his people would not listen. "We found our fathers doing this," they said. "And we follow what they did."

So Ibrahim... made a plan.

One day... a great festival was coming. The whole town was going out to celebrate. They invited Ibrahim to come.

But Ibrahim looked at them... and he said... "I am not feeling well."

So they left him behind.

When the streets were quiet... when everyone was gone... Ibrahim walked into the temple.

He stood among the idols. Tall ones... small ones... silent and still.

He spoke to them softly. "Will you not eat? Why do you not speak?"

But the statues did not move. They did not breathe. They did not answer.

Ibrahim picked up an axe.

And one by one... he broke the small idols. Quietly. Carefully. Until only the biggest one was left standing.

And then... Ibrahim placed the axe... in the hands of the biggest idol.

And he walked out.

When the people came back from their festival... they ran into the temple.

They saw the broken statues on the floor. They saw the axe in the hands of the biggest idol.

And they cried out... "Who did this to our gods?"

Someone said... "We heard a young man named Ibrahim speaking against them."

So they brought Ibrahim before the whole town.

"Did you do this, Ibrahim? Did you break our gods?"

And Ibrahim... calm and clever... pointed to the biggest idol still standing.

He said... "Why don't you ask the big one? The axe is in his hand. Ask them, if they can speak."

The people were silent.

They looked at each other. They looked at the statue. They looked at the floor.

And quietly... in their hearts... they whispered... "These statues cannot speak. These statues cannot do anything."

Ibrahim looked at them gently.

"Then why do you worship something that cannot help you... or even speak for itself? Worship the One who made you. Worship Allāh."

For one small moment... the truth shone in their hearts.

But then their pride came back. And they grew angry.

And now... slowly... we leave that old temple behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry Ibrahim's courage with you, wherever you go. He was brave, not because he was big or strong, but because he stood up for the truth... even when he stood all alone. And Allah loves the ones who speak the truth: even when it is hard... even when it is scary... even when no one else will.

So carry Ibrahim's dua with you. It means... my Lord... grant me wisdom... and join me with the righteous.

*Rabbi hab lī ḥukman wa alḥiqnī bi-ṣ-ṣāliḥīn.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a wide-open square, in a town from long ago... where the people have built the most enormous fire you have ever seen.

And here we are.

Feel the heat of it on your face, even from far away. See the flames roaring higher than the houses... higher than the trees... turning the whole sky orange. The heat is so strong... that no one can stand anywhere near it.

And this whole enormous fire... was built for just one man. A brave young man named Ibrahim, alayhi salaam. He had shown his people that their statues could not be gods... and instead of listening, their proud king, Namrud, had ordered this fire to punish him.

They tied Ibrahim's hands. They placed him in a giant catapult... a machine made to throw him from far away.

Because no one could get close enough to the fire.

And in that moment... while the whole world was against him... Ibrahim was calm.

He whispered the words... that Muslims still whisper today when things feel impossible...

"Hasbunā Allāhu wa niʿma al-wakīl. Allāh is enough for us. And He is the best protector."

And then... they launched him into the fire.

But Allāh commanded the fire.

He said... "Yā nāru kūnī bardan wa salāman ʿalā Ibrahim."

"O fire... be coolness... and peace... upon Ibrahim."

And the fire... obeyed.

The flames were still tall. The wood was still burning. The people could still see the orange light.

But for Ibrahim... the fire was gentle.

It was cool like a spring breeze. It was peaceful like a quiet garden.

The ropes around his hands fell away. He sat in the middle of the fire... safe... and calm.

The people watched in amazement. They had never seen anything like this. The fire that should have burned him... was holding him gently.

When the flames finally calmed... Ibrahim walked out. Safe. Calm. Just as Allāh had promised.

The people did not know what to say.

Some of them turned to Allāh that day. They saw the truth. They believed.

And some... were too proud. They turned away.

But Ibrahim... his trust in Allāh had only grown stronger.

And now... slowly... we leave that fire, and that faraway town, behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry Ibrahim with you, wherever you go. When something feels too big... or too scary... remember: the fire could not hurt him, because Allah was with him. And Allah is with you too, always. So when you feel afraid, you can whisper the very same words Ibrahim whispered. They mean... Allah is enough for us... and He is the best protector.

*Ḥasbunā-llāhu wa niʿma-l-wakīl.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going out into a vast desert... to walk beside a small band of travellers... as they leave the only home they have ever known.

And here we are.

Feel the warm sand beneath your feet, and the wide-open sky stretching all around. Leading these travellers is a brave man named Ibrahim, alayhi salaam. After everything that happened, he could not stay in his homeland any longer.

His own people had tried to hurt him. Even his own father, whom Ibrahim loved very much, would not turn to Allāh. Ibrahim had spoken to him gently. He had prayed for him many, many times. But his father chose his idols instead.

It made Ibrahim's heart sad. But he kept loving Allāh. And he kept loving his father in his duʿās.

So Ibrahim made a decision.

He said... "I will go to my Lord. He will guide me."

"Innī dhāhibun ilā rabbī sayahdīn."

He gathered his small family. His wife Sarah. His nephew Lūṭ, who believed with him.

And together... they set out into the unknown.

Imagine it... a small group of travelers... walking out of the only home they had ever known.

Behind them... the city they grew up in. The streets they played in. The people they loved.

In front of them... only desert. Only sand. Only sky.

They walked for days. And weeks. And months.

Through hot deserts where the sun was strong. Through cool nights where the stars came out.

Sometimes they stopped at a small spring of water. Sometimes they shared a piece of bread. Sometimes they slept under the open sky.

And every step of the way... Ibrahim trusted Allāh.

When the path was hard... he made duʿā. When food was little... he was thankful. When the way ahead was unknown... he kept walking.

Because Ibrahim knew... Allāh sees the path that we cannot see. Allāh knows where we are going... even when we don't.

After many years... Allāh blessed Ibrahim and Sarah with another companion. A kind woman named Hajar.

And then... after many more years of waiting... Allāh gave Ibrahim and Hajar a son.

His name... was Ismaʿīl.

A baby. A long-awaited baby. A gift from Allāh after so many prayers.

Ibrahim held his son... and tears came to his eyes.

He whispered... "Alhamdulillāh." All thanks to Allāh.

But Ibrahim's journey was not over yet.

Allāh had one more journey for him to make. A harder one. A stranger one.

A journey that would take him... and his baby son... to a place where nothing grew.

And now... slowly... we leave that long desert road behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry Ibrahim with you, wherever you go. Sometimes Allah asks us to leave the comfortable... and step toward the unknown. It can feel scary, and hard. But Allah never asks us to walk alone. He walks with us. He guides us. And what He has waiting at the end... is always better than what we left behind.

So carry Ibrahim's words with you. They mean... I am going to my Lord... and He will guide me.

*Innī dhāhibun ilā rabbī... sayahdīn.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a quiet, empty valley... between bare desert mountains... where no people live, and no water flows at all. A place that, one day, will be called Makkah.

And here we are.

Feel the dry desert heat, and see the burning sand and the bare, silent hills. For Allah had asked Prophet Ibrahim, alayhi salaam, to do something very difficult: to bring his wife Hajar, and their baby son Ismaʿīl, all the way out to this empty valley... and to leave them here, with only a small bag of dates and a small skin of water. And now... it was time for Ibrahim to go.

Hajar held her baby close. She looked around at the empty valley. At the dry mountains. At the burning sand.

She called out to Ibrahim... "Where are you going? Are you leaving us in this valley?"

Ibrahim did not answer. He could not. His heart was heavy.

She asked again. And again.

And then she asked one more thing...

"Did Allāh command you to do this?"

Ibrahim turned to her... and he said... "Yes."

And Hajar... brave Hajar... whispered... "Then Allāh will not let us be lost."

Ibrahim walked away. And before he was out of sight... he turned toward the empty valley... and made duʿā.

He said... "Our Lord, I have settled some of my family in a valley with no crops, near Your sacred House. So that they may establish prayer. Make the hearts of people lean toward them. And give them fruits to eat... so that they may be thankful."

"Rabbanā taqabbal minnā. Our Lord, accept this from us."

Days passed. The water in the small skin ran out.

The baby Ismaʿīl began to cry. He was thirsty. So thirsty.

Hajar looked around for help. But there was no one.

So she ran. She ran to the closest hill. A hill called Ṣafā.

She climbed to the top. She looked across the valley... searching for any sign of water. Any traveler. Any help.

But there was nothing.

So she ran down... and across the valley... to another hill. A hill called Marwa.

She climbed up. She looked. Nothing.

She ran back to Ṣafā. And then back to Marwa. Again. And again.

Seven times.

Her feet were tired. Her heart was breaking. But she did not give up.

She did not stop trusting Allāh.

And then... back near her baby... she heard something.

A sound like... water.

She ran to where Ismaʿīl was lying on the sand. And right there... right next to his little feet... water was bursting up from the ground.

Cool. Clear. Beautiful water.

In the middle of the desert. Where nothing had ever grown.

Hajar gasped. She bent down quickly. She tried to gather the water with her hands.

She said... "Zam zam." Stop, stop. Stay here, stay here.

And the water did stay. And it has been flowing... for thousands of years.

That spring is still there today. Right next to the Kaʿba in Makkah.

Millions of pilgrims drink from it every year.

It is called... the well of Zamzam.

And those two hills... Ṣafā and Marwa... where Hajar walked back and forth... every Muslim who goes for Hajj or ʿUmrah walks between them too.

Seven times. Just like Hajar did.

Because Allāh loved her courage. He loved her trust. He loved her so much... He made her footsteps part of His worship... forever.

And now... slowly... we leave that valley behind, though its well still flows there to this very day, and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry Hajar with you, wherever you go. When something is hard... try. Even when it doesn't seem to be working... keep trying. Hajar ran seven times before the water came. She didn't know if it ever would... but she never gave up, and she never stopped trusting Allah. And Allah sees every step you take. Every tear. Every prayer. And His help, when it comes, is always more than you expected.

So carry Hajar's trust with you. Whenever you feel lost, or alone, you can say what her heart said. It means... Allah is enough for me... there is no god but Him... upon Him I put my trust.

*Ḥasbiya-llāhu lā ilāha illā Huwa... ʿalayhi tawakkalt.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going back to the valley of Makkah... in the cool of the early morning... as the sun is just rising over the mountains.

And here we are.

But the valley has changed. It is no longer empty. Ever since the spring of Zamzam bubbled up, travellers have come to settle here, and it has become a home. And that tiny baby, Ismaʿīl... has grown into a strong young man.

The empty valley of Makkah... had become a home. Travelers had begun to settle there, drawn by the spring of Zamzam.

And Ibrahim came to visit his son.

The two of them had been apart for a long time. Now they walked together. They talked together. They prayed together.

And then one day... Allāh gave Ibrahim a special command.

Allāh told him... "Build a house. A house for Me. A place where people will come from every corner of the earth... to worship Me."

Ibrahim turned to his son. And he said... "Ismaʿīl... Allāh has commanded us to build His house. Will you help me?"

And Ismaʿīl smiled. He said... "Yes, my father. I will help."

So father and son... began to build.

Imagine it. A quiet valley in the early morning. The sun just rising over the mountains.

Ismaʿīl carried the heavy stones. Big ones. Small ones. He brought them one by one... up the small hill where the foundation would be.

And Ibrahim... his hands strong from years of work... placed each stone carefully on top of the last.

When the walls grew tall... and Ibrahim could not reach... Ismaʿīl brought him a special stone to stand on.

A stone that today... we still call... Maqām Ibrahim. The standing-place of Ibrahim.

You can still see it... right next to the Kaʿba.

And as they worked... they made duʿā together.

Every time they laid a stone... they whispered...

"Rabbanā taqabbal minnā. Our Lord, accept this from us. Innaka anta as-Samīʿ ul-ʿAlīm. You are the All-Hearing... the All-Knowing."

Stone by stone. Brick by brick. With every prayer rising up to Allāh.

The walls grew taller. A simple cube. Plain and beautiful. Pointing toward the sky.

When they finished... they stood back and looked.

Just a small stone house... in the middle of an empty valley.

But Ibrahim raised his hands to the sky. And he made one more duʿā.

He said... "Our Lord, send among them a messenger from themselves... who will recite Your verses to them... and teach them the Book and wisdom... and purify them. You are the Almighty, the Wise."

Allāh heard that prayer.

And thousands of years later... in that same valley... a baby boy would be born.

His name was Muḥammad. Sallallāhu ʿalayhi wa sallam.

The final messenger. The answer to Ibrahim's duʿā.

Today... that stone house in the middle of the desert... is the most visited place in the world.

Millions of Muslims travel to it every year.

And every single Muslim... wherever they live... whatever language they speak... turns toward it five times a day to pray.

A father and a son. Two pairs of hands. One simple house.

And a duʿā that echoed... for thousands of years.

And now... slowly... we leave that little stone house behind, though millions still turn toward it in prayer, five times a day, and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry this with you, wherever you go. When you do something for Allah... even if it feels small... it can grow into something far bigger than you could ever imagine. So build with kind hands. Build with a sincere heart. Build with dua. And Allah will accept it... and multiply it... and let it bloom.

So carry the words Ibrahim and Ismaʿīl whispered, stone by stone. They mean... our Lord, accept this from us. You are the All-Hearing, the All-Knowing.

*Rabbanā taqabbal minnā... innaka anta-s-Samīʿu-l-ʿAlīm.*

Come with me. Today, we're going on a journey... far, far away... and long, long ago.

We're going to a quiet hillside... under a wide and open sky... to hear about the greatest love a father and son ever shared.

And here we are.

There is a man here who waited his whole life for one thing: a child. He prayed, and prayed, and prayed. And at long last, Allah blessed him with a kind and brave young son. The father is Prophet Ibrahim, alayhi salaam. And he loves his son Ismaʿīl... more than anything in the whole world.

But Allāh wanted Ibrahim's love to be known... to every generation... until the end of time.

So Allāh sent Ibrahim a dream.

In the dream... Ibrahim saw himself making a great sacrifice for Allāh. The biggest sacrifice anyone could ever make.

He saw himself... offering his beloved son.

When Ibrahim woke up... his heart was heavy.

A dream from Allāh is not like other dreams. A dream from Allāh is a message.

Ibrahim sat with his son. And gently... softly... he told him.

"My beloved Ismaʿīl... I have seen in a dream that I must offer you to Allāh. What do you think?"

And young Ismaʿīl... brave Ismaʿīl... looked at his father with calm eyes.

He said... "My dear father... do what you have been commanded. You will find me, in shā Allāh, among the patient ones."

Ismaʿīl was not afraid.

Because Ismaʿīl loved Allāh more than he loved his own life.

And he loved his father too. He did not want him to be sad.

So they walked together... father and son... toward a quiet hill.

They walked slowly. They talked softly. Their hearts were full.

When they reached the hill... Ibrahim laid his son down softly upon the ground. As the Qurʾān tells us... they had both submitted to Allāh.

He whispered... "Bismillāh."

He said... "For Allāh."

But in that very moment... Allāh called out from the heavens.

"Yā Ibrahim! O Ibrahim! Stop! You have already fulfilled the dream."

Ibrahim stopped.

And right there... on the hill... Allāh provided a beautiful ram. A great sacrifice in place of Ismaʿīl.

A gift from Allāh. A mercy for Ibrahim and his son.

The Qurʾān tells us... "wa fadaynāhu bi-dhibḥin ʿaẓīm." We ransomed him with a great sacrifice.

Ibrahim's heart filled with joy. He hugged his son. Tears in his eyes.

His Ismaʿīl was safe. His son was with him. Allāh's command had been a great test... and the meaning of the test was Ibrahim's trust.

And Ibrahim had given it. Without holding back. Without doubting.

Allāh was so pleased with both of them. So pleased with Ibrahim's love. So pleased with Ismaʿīl's trust.

That He gave them something even more beautiful in return.

Allāh said... "Salāmun ʿalā Ibrahim." Peace upon Ibrahim.

And Allāh promised... that this story would be told... in every generation... until the end of time.

That is why... every year... Muslims all over the world celebrate Eid al-Aḍḥā. The Eid of Sacrifice.

It is the day we remember Ibrahim and Ismaʿīl. The day we remember their love. Their trust. The mercy of Allāh.

We give meat to families who need it. We share food. We pray together. We hug each other.

And we remember... that Allāh sees every heart. And He never forgets.

And now... slowly... we leave that quiet hillside behind... and travel back home. To right here. Right now.

But carry this with you, wherever you go. When you love Allah more than anything else... He never lets you truly lose. He gives back. He always gives back... often far more than you ever gave. So trust Him, the way Ismaʿīl trusted, and the way Ibrahim trusted. And He will take care of you. Always.

So carry these words with you. They mean... our Lord... upon You alone we rely.

*Rabbanā ʿalayka tawakkalnā.*