Episode Details

We praise Allah for allowing us to experience and complete another Ramadan. And now that we’ve emerged from it, there’s a question worth sitting with: what comes next?

Imam Ibn Rajab al-Hanbali mentions that the pious predecessors would spend six months after Ramadan asking Allah to accept their deeds — and the remaining months begging Him to let them witness another one. That’s the rhythm. Gratitude, then longing. Never stagnation.

But the Qur’an gives us something even more precise than that rhythm. It gives us a transition.

In Surah al-Baqarah, the discussion of Ramadan begins at ayah 183 — *kutiba alaykum al-siyam* — and runs through to ayah 187. Then, immediately, in ayah 189, Allah says:

**يَسْأَلُونَكَ عَنِ الْأَهِلَّةِ**

*They ask you about the crescent moons.*

The companions asked Rasulullah ﷺ about the significance of the moon’s phases — crescent to full, waning and returning. Allah answered that the moon exists so that humanity can track time. So we know when a month begins and when it ends. (I understand this topic is sensitive in Perth. We’ll leave that there.)

But then, immediately, Allah connects this to Hajj.

“Qul hiya mawaqitu li al-nas wa al-hajj.”

The crescents are time-markers for people — and for Hajj.

The transition is beautiful. One act of worship ends. The next one begins. No gap. No off-season. The life of a believer is simply moving from one ibadah to the next. The same Lord we worshipped in Ramadan is the same Lord who governs every moment outside of it. Ramadan ending doesn’t mean the haram becomes negotiable again, or the wajib becomes optional. We have a new aim now.

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Now, not everyone can perform Hajj. It’s a mathematical impossibility. Two billion Muslims, roughly two million pilgrimage spots per year — the number has been reduced since COVID. Do the maths. It would take something like 700 years before every Muslim alive today gets a turn. That’s why Hajj is the only pillar where Allah specifies man istata’a ilayhi sabila — for those who are able. Ability is a condition.

But the mindset still applies. The transition from one ibadah to the next is for everyone.

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There are so many dimensions to Hajj worth unpacking. But I want to focus on one moment — a snapshot — from the stoning at the Jamarat.

The backstory is Sayyidina Ibrahim عليه السلام. He was commanded by Allah, through a dream, to sacrifice his only son at that time, Isma’il. And when he told his son — and Allah recorded this exchange in the Qur’an — Isma’il responded with full submission: *ifʿal mā tu’mar* — do as you have been commanded. You will find me among the patient.

But Isma’il set conditions. He said: don’t do it in Makkah, because if I scream, my mother will hear and it will break her heart. And make sure the blade is sharp so it’s quick.

(Side note to the sons in the room: if your father knocks on your door and says he saw a dream about slaughtering you — dial 000. These days, the worst our fathers do is say, “Son, wake up for Fajr.” And even that’s a struggle.)

Father and son walked about five or six kilometres from Makkah to Mina. And at each of the three stations along the way, Iblis appeared. He whispered. He cast doubt. He said: *You’ve done enough. You built the Ka’bah. You migrated from Iraq to Jerusalem to Makkah. You’ve sacrificed so much already. Why this? Just say no.*

At each station, Ibrahim took seven pebbles, threw them in the direction of Iblis — *Allahu Akbar* — and moved on.

After the third station, Iblis left and never came back.

Falamma aslama wa tallahu li al-jabin. When both of them submitted fully — the father resolute, the son’s forehead on the stone — Allah called out. The test was fulfille