As Nigeria celebrates today, KEHINDE ADEGOKE traces the genesis of the Feast of Sacrifice, the theological debate over whether killing a ram is compulsory, and what the Holy Quran actually says.
Across Nigeria and beyond, today — from the open-air Eid grounds of Kano and Sokoto to the prayer mats of Lagos and Ibadan — millions of Muslims are gathered in worship, celebration, and the solemn act of sacrifice that gives this festival its name: Eid-el-Kabir, the Great Feast.
The Federal Government has declared Wednesday, May 27 and Thursday, May 28, 2026, as public holidays to mark Eid-el-Kabir — a festival the Minister of Interior described as a time for sacrifice, obedience, and compassion.
But behind the prayers, the shared meals, and the familiar sight of rams being led through neighbourhood streets lies a story — one that began not in a modern city but on a mountain, millennia ago, with a father, a son, and a command from God that would echo through three of the world’s great religions.
The Genesis: Ibrahim, Ishmael, and the Mountain
To understand Eid-el-Kabir, one must go back to its origin — an origin that Islam, Christianity, and Judaism all share, though they tell it differently.
The story begins with Prophet Ibrahim — known in the Bible as Abraham — one of the most revered figures in all three Abrahamic faiths. Ibrahim had prayed for decades for a child. When his son Ishmael was born, the joy was immeasurable. And then came the dream.
In the dream, Ibrahim saw himself sacrificing his son. In Islamic tradition, a prophet’s dream is a form of divine revelation. Ibrahim understood the command. He told his son. And Ishmael — in one of the most moving moments in all of sacred literature — said: “O my father, do what you have been commanded. You will find me, if Allah wills, of the steadfast.”
Father and son went to the place of sacrifice. Ibrahim laid his son down. He raised the blade. And at that moment, the command came from God: “O Ibrahim, you have fulfilled the vision.” A ram appeared from the divine, and was sacrificed in Ishmael’s place.
According to the Quran, Ibrahim was about to sacrifice his son when a voice from heaven stopped him and allowed him to make something else as a “great sacrifice.” In Islam, Ishmael is regarded as a prophet and an ancestor of Muhammad. Eid-el-Kabir commemorates Ibrahim’s obedience and his son’s submission — values that the festival calls every Muslim to embody.
One key theological difference: while the Islamic tradition holds that the son was Ishmael, the Old Testament identifies the son as Isaac. Both traditions agree, however, on the core meaning — that Ibrahim demonstrated complete submission to God’s will, and that God honoured that submission with mercy.
What the Holy Quran Says
The Quranic account of this story is found in Surah As-Saffat (Chapter 37), verses 100-111. It is worth reading in full — not as abstract theology, but as the living foundation of what every Muslim celebrating today is honouring:
“My Lord, grant me from among the righteous.” (37:100)
“So, we gave him good tidings of a forbearing boy. And when he reached the age of exertion, he said, ‘O my son, indeed I have seen in a dream that I sacrifice you, so see what you think.’ He said, ‘O my father, do as you are commanded. You will find me, if Allah wills, of the steadfast.'” (37:101-102).
“And when they had both submitted, and he put him down upon his forehead, We called to him, ‘O Ibrahim, you have fulfilled the vision.’ Indeed, we thus reward the doers of good. Indeed, this was a clear trial. And we ransomed him with a great sacrifice.” (37:103-107)
The phrase “a great sacrifice” — in Arabic, dhibhin azim — is the Quranic foundation of the annual act of sacrifice that Muslims perform on this day. It is not merely a tradition. It is a reenactment of a divine mercy — the substitution of the ram for the son, mercy for obedience, life for submission.
Additionally, the Quran states in Surah Al-Hajj (Chapter 22), verse 34: “And for every nation We have appointed a rite of sacrifice, that they may mention the name of Allah over what He has provided for them of sacrificial animals.” And in verse 37: “Their meat will not reach Allah, nor will their blood, but what reaches Him is piety from you.”
That last verse carries its own profound message — and one directly relevant to the theological debate below.
Is Killing the Ram Compulsory? What Islamic Scholarship Says
This is the question that generates the most discussion — and the most misunderstanding — among Nigerian Muslims every Eid season.
The answer, according to mainstream Islamic scholarship, is: it depends on your school of jurisprudence — and your financial capacity. Islamic jurisprudence is divided into four major Sunni schools — the Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi’i, and Hanbali — and they hold different positions:
The Hanafi school — followed by many Muslims in the northern hemisphere and significant parts of Nigeria — holds that the Udhiyah (the sacrifice) is wajib (obligatory) for every adult Muslim who owns the nisab (minimum amount of wealth above basic needs), is not on the Hajj pilgrimage, and is a resident — not a traveller — on the days of Eid.
The Maliki, Shafi’i, and Hanbali schools — the majority position globally — hold that the Udhiyah is Sunnah Mu’akkadah — a strongly confirmed Sunnah, meaning it is highly recommended and should not be abandoned without reason, but it is not technically obligatory in the sense that abandoning it is sinful.
The basis for the majority position is the Quranic verse quoted above — “Their meat will not reach Allah, nor will their blood, but what reaches Him is piety from you” — which scholars interpret as placing the emphasis on the spiritual intention behind the sacrifice rather than the physical act itself.
The basis for the Hanafi position is a hadith attributed to the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH): “Whoever has the means and does not sacrifice, let him not come near our prayer place.” Hanafi scholars cite this as evidence that the sacrifice carries obligatory weight for those who can afford it.
What If You Cannot Afford a Ram?
Islamic scholarship is unanimous and merciful on this point: the sacrifice is not obligatory for those who cannot afford it. The nisab — the financial threshold — exists precisely to ensure that the act of sacrifice does not become a burden on the poor.
For those who cannot afford a full animal, most scholars permit sharing — up to seven people may share the cost and reward of a single cow or camel. A ram or goat, however, counts for only one household.
The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) is reported to have said: “I have been commanded to sacrifice, and it is a Sunnah for you.” The scholarly consensus is that financial incapacity provides a valid exemption — and that giving the equivalent value in charity to the poor is an acceptable alternative for those in genuine hardship.
The Spirit Behind the Sacrifice
Perhaps the most important dimension of the Udhiyah — and one that gets lost in the commercial frenzy of ram-buying that characterises Eid season in Nigeria — is its intended distribution.
The family will eat about a third of the meat, a third will go to friends and relatives, and the remaining third will be donated to the poor and needy. This three-way division is the Sunnah of the Prophet — and it transforms the act of sacrifice from a private religious ritual into a mechanism for community welfare.
In a country where millions face food insecurity, the Eid sacrifice — properly observed — is one of the single largest annual redistributions of protein-rich food to the poor. The theological significance and the social significance are inseparable.
Eid-el-Kabir in Nigeria: A Living Tradition
With Monday, May 18, marking the start of Dhul Hijjah, Nigerian Muslims have entered the most spiritually significant ten days of the Islamic year. Scholars have encouraged increased devotion, charity, and good deeds during this window.
The Sultanate Council of Sokoto urged Muslims in Nigeria and beyond to use this sacred month for prayers, sacrifice, and acts of charity for peace, unity, and progress in the country.
Today, as rams are sacrificed in compounds from Maiduguri to Mushin, the act connects every Nigerian Muslim to a chain of worship that stretches back to Ibrahim on a mountain — a father who loved his son enough to surrender him, and a God who loved that father enough to provide a way out.
The Dig
The ram is not the point. It never was.
The ram is the symbol. The point is Ibrahim’s surrender — complete, unquestioning, and costly. The point is Ishmael’s courage — “Do what you have been commanded. You will find me steadfast.” The point is the divine mercy that meets human obedience — “We ransomed him with a great sacrifice.”
Whether the killing of a ram is obligatory or strongly recommended, the scholars will continue to debate. But on this, the Quran is clear: “Their meat will not reach Allah, nor will their blood, but what reaches Him is piety from you.”
It’s clear from the above summation that what matters is not the animal. What matters is the intention — the willingness to give what is most precious, in submission to what is most sacred.
Eid Mubarak to every Nigerian Muslim celebrating today — and to every fellow citizen sharing in this day of joy, sacrifice, and community.
𝐊𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝-𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝟏𝟓 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐄𝐎 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬.𝐜𝐨𝐦, 𝐀𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬.𝐜𝐨𝐦 | 𝐰𝐰𝐰.𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬.𝐜𝐨𝐦 | 𝟎𝟖𝟎𝟑𝟗𝟏𝟑𝟓𝟒𝟕𝟐 | 𝐈𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧, 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚
editor@thediggernews.com