Every year, Eid ul Azha comes around and we talk about sacrifice. We talk about Prophet Ibrahim (AS) holding the knife. We talk about Ismail (AS) lying down, willingly. We talk about the ram sent in his place. What we don’t talk about enough is what happened minutes before all of that. “O my son, I see in a dream that I am slaughtering you. So tell me what you think.” [Qur’an 37: 102] That was the moment.
Ibrahim (AS) didn’t just enact, he spoke. He didn’t command, he consulted. He brought his son into the heaviest decision of his life, and gave him space to respond. And Ismail’s (AS) reply is the real essence of this day: “O my dear father! Do as you are commanded. Allah willing, you will find me steadfast.” [Qur’an 37: 102] It was active submission, not passive resignation; aligning himself with the command, not just enduring it. He added “Allah willing”; even in his willingness, he acknowledged that steadfastness itself is a gift. It’s humility, not bravado. That’s why in sha Allah is there. He called Ibrahim (AS) “Ya abati” – my father, the bond and respect stayed intact. The test didn’t erase the relationship; it deepened it. That reply is why the conversation is the real essence. Without it, you just have a father acting alone; with it, you have a father and a son complying together. Submission isn’t about silence; it’s about conscious consent and trust.
Notice what’s there:
- Trust without avoidance
Ibrahim (AS) didn’t hide the dream form his son to protect him. He told him the truth, however brutal. That’s the sunnah we miss – choosing clarity over comfort in hard conversations. Most of us instinctively shield our kids from weighty realities thinking reticence is compassion. But Ibrahim (AS) showed that trust means letting your child face reality with you, not alone. That’s what turns fear into shared responsibility.
- Agency without rebellion
Ismail (AS) didn’t argue or run. He accepted, but his acceptance was active. “Tell me what you think” becomes “do as you are commanded.” He owned the decision. That’s the difference between being controlled and choosing to align.
- Surrender without erasing humanity
Both of them were terrified, grieving but obedient. The Qur’an doesn’t sanitize that. “When they both submitted and he laid him down on the side of his forehead.” [Qur’an 37: 103] – the Arabic aslama means to submit, surrender and also means to make peace with something. It was not forced obedience, they made peace with what they couldn’t control or alter, together. The Qur’an emphasizes their shared internal state before the physical act. The conversation had worked; Ibrahim (AS) consulted, Ismail (AS) consented and submission was the product of that dialogue; the conversation made the submission real.
The sacrifice of the animal came later. That was the symbol. The real sacrifice was that conversation on a hillside: A father choosing not to be authoritarian. A son choosing not to be passive. A father-son duo choosing trust over fear, even when trust looked like a loss.
Why this matters now
We’ve turned Eid ul Azha into a logistics exercise: buy the animal, manage the Qurbani, distribute the meat. All of that matters. But if we miss the conversation, we miss the point. The Sunnah isn’t just slaughtering. It’s speaking honestly to your children when life gets heavy. It’s letting them having a voice in things that affect them. It’s modelling that faith isn’t blind obedience, but conscious submission after understanding.
Most of us won’t face a dream like Ibrahim’s (AS). But we all face moments where we have to tell our kids something hard, or ask them to carry something heavy. Do we have the conversation? Or do we just decide for them? This Eid, maybe the qurbani we need to make is of our need to control the narrative. Sacrifice the assumption that silence protects. Sacrifice the habit of deciding for instead of deciding with. Because if there’s no conversation, there’s no real submission. That’s what I think the knife was meant to reveal. May we remember the conversation, not just the knife.
