Ibraahim said to his son, “O my son, indeed I have seen in a dream that I must sacrifice you. So look, what do you think?”

Years passed. His beloved wife, Sarah, was a woman of noble lineage and deep wisdom, but her womb was as barren as the desert they now wandered. Ibraahim was old, his bones weary, and Sarah was beyond the age of motherhood. The promise of Allah—that he would be the father of nations—seemed like a distant, impossible star.

Years earlier, Sarah, seeing her own barrenness, had given her Egyptian handmaiden, Hajar, to Ibraahim as a wife. Soon, Hajar bore Ibraahim his first son: Ismaeel (Ishmael). Joy filled the tent, but so did a new, sharp-edged emotion. Sarah felt the sting of jealousy. She could not bear to see Hajar’s child when her own arms remained empty.

He then asked his father to tie him tightly so he would not struggle, to blindfold himself so he would not hesitate, and to sharpen the knife well so that death would be swift.

“Shall I bear a child when I am an old woman and this husband of mine is an aged man?” she chuckled to herself, her heart mixing hope with disbelief.

Ibraahim did not turn around. He could not. His eyes were filled with tears.

Sarah was struck with awe. The impossible had just knocked on her door. But before Ishaaq, there was another story—a story of a mother and a son in the desert.

One night, Ibraahim had a recurring dream. In the dream, he was sacrificing his son. The dreams of prophets are revelation. This was a command from Allah.

But the angel said, “Why do you laugh, O Sarah? Indeed, Allah has given you glad tidings of a son, Ishaaq (Isaac), and after him, a grandson, Ya’qub (Jacob).”

Allah, in His wisdom, revealed to Ibraahim a command that would break any father’s heart: Take Hajar and the infant Ismaeel to a barren, uninhabited valley far away—the valley of Bakkah (later known as Makkah).