The First Ten Days of Dhul Hijjah

One Month From Today

Today is the first of Dhul Qa’dah. Dhul Qa’dah is one of the four sacred months in Islam—not a month of major worship in itself, but the month that leads into Dhul Hijjah. Thirty days from now, the first of Dhul Hijjah begins. Ten days later, Eid al-Adha.

Two peaks, two months apart

I notice this now because Ramadan is so recent. The alarm that woke me for suhoor is still muscle memory. I can still feel the rhythm of those last ten nights—the quiet, the resolve, the gathering in. It feels like those were the peak. It feels like now is the valley. But the calendar disagrees. The next peak is already visible from here.

The Oath on Ten Nights

The Quran is not extravagant with oaths. When Allah swears by something, it is because that thing carries weight the rest of us might miss. Surah Al-Fajr opens with four of them. One of them is this:

Wa layalin ‘ashr. And by the ten nights. Just three Arabic words, with no further specification in the text itself. Which ten nights? The answer is not in the ayah—it is in the tradition that interpreted it.

Ibn Abbas, the cousin of the Prophet ﷺ and the scholar whom classical tafsir treats as foundational, identified these ten nights as the first ten of Dhul Hijjah. Mujahid, his student, agreed. Ibn Kathir in his commentary on this ayah quotes the same. The near-unanimous classical view is that these are the ten days ahead.

The ayah immediately after continues the oath:

And the even and the odd. Classical scholars read this, too, as naming specific days within the ten: the odd (al-watr) being the ninth — the Day of Arafah — and the even (al-shaf‘) being the tenth — the day of sacrifice. A nested oath. Ten days, and inside them the two that matter most.

There is a second Quranic reference that is less ambiguous. In Surah Al-Hajj:

Ayyam ma‘lumat—“known days.” Ibn Abbas identified these as the first ten of Dhul Hijjah. This is why the takbir—Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, la ilaha illa Allah—is recited loudly in these days. The ayah specifically commands the remembrance of Allah’s name during them.

What the Prophet Said

If the Quran swore the oath, the Prophet ﷺ explained the scale. There is one hadith in particular that every scholar writing about these days returns to. It is in Sahih al-Bukhari, the most authenticated collection of all.

Sahih al-Bukhari #943Sahih

“No good deeds done on other days are superior to those done on these (first ten days of Dhul Hijjah). Then some companions of the Prophet said, 'Not even jihad?' He replied, 'Not even jihad, except that of a man who does it by putting himself and his property in danger and does not return with any of those things.'”

— Ibn Abbas

I had to sit with this for a while. The Prophet ﷺ is the one who taught the ummah about martyrdom—who called it the highest rank in Paradise, who praised the one who dies in Allah’s path with every ayah that mentions the shaheed. And yet a righteous deed in these ten days is more beloved to Allah than even that—unless the martyr gives everything, his life included. That is the bar. The deeds in these ten days clear it without requiring death.

Al-Tirmidhi records a more specific version of the same reality:

Jami` at-Tirmidhi #758Sahih

“There are no days more beloved to Allah that He be worshipped in them than the ten days of Dhul-Hijjah, fasting every day of them is the equivalent of fasting a year, and standing in prayer one of these nights is equivalent to standing on the Night of Qadr.”

One fast in these ten days equals a year of fasting. One night of standing equals Laylatul Qadr. This is the only time in the Islamic calendar where a day of fasting is valued that highly. During Ramadan, we do not speak in these terms—a fast in Ramadan is a fast in Ramadan. But here, inside these ten days, a single fast is weighted as a year.

If Ramadan’s last ten nights are the peak of the nights, the first ten of Dhul Hijjah are the peak of the days. Ramadan is the month of the night—of tahajjud, of taraweeh, of Laylatul Qadr. Dhul Hijjah’s first ten belong to the day— of fasting, of hajj, of dhikr under open sky. The pairing is almost architectural.

The Day of Arafah

Inside the ten days is one day that outweighs the others. The ninth of Dhul Hijjah. The Day of Arafah. Classical scholars called it the greatest day of the year. When you gather what was said about it—by the Prophet ﷺ, by the companions, by Allah Himself in the Quran—the weight is difficult to hold in one mind. Let me try to put the pieces down in order.

1. Hajj is Arafah — and Hajj is Ibrahim’s

For the one making pilgrimage, the entire Hajj comes down to standing on the plain of Arafah from noon to sunset on the ninth. If a pilgrim misses every other station but stands at Arafah, their Hajj is valid. If they perform every other ritual but miss Arafah, their Hajj is void. The Prophet ﷺ said it as plainly as it can be said:

Jami` at-Tirmidhi #890Sahih

“Hajj is Arafat, Hajj is Arafat, Hajj is Arafat. Whoever catches the night of Arafat before the break of dawn on the night of Muzdalifah, his Hajj is complete.”

The center of the most elaborate act of worship in Islam is a single afternoon on a plain outside Mecca. Everything else in Hajj orbits it.

And the Hajj itself is Ibrahim’s عليه السلام inheritance. The Quran records Allah’s command to Ibrahim: “And proclaim to the people the Hajj; they will come to you on foot and on every lean camel, coming from every distant mountain pass” (22:27). Every pilgrim standing at Arafah answers a call placed thousands of years ago, by the father of the prophets, from this very land. The rituals—the tawaf around the Kaaba he rebuilt, the running between Safa and Marwa where Hajar ran for water, the sacrifice commemorating his near-sacrifice of his son—are all his legacy, sealed and completed by the Prophet ﷺ.

2. The Day the Religion Was Perfected — the Farewell Sermon

There is an ayah in Surah Al-Ma’idah that every Muslim hears at some point but rarely learns the backstory of:

This ayah was revealed on the Day of Arafah, during the Prophet’s ﷺ farewell pilgrimage — the only Hajj he performed. It came down while he stood on his camel on the plain of Arafah, delivering what came to be known as the Farewell Sermon. In that address he declared the end of tribal blood feuds, abolished riba, established the rights of women and slaves, and reminded the ummah that all humans are equal, “as the teeth of a comb” — no Arab above a non-Arab, no white above a black except in taqwa. He ended by asking the companions three times: “Have I conveyed?” They answered yes. Then he raised his finger to the sky and said: “O Allah, bear witness.”

It is the last major legislative ayah revealed in the Quran. Islam, as a complete body of law and guidance, closed on this day. Months later the Prophet ﷺ returned to Allah. The Farewell Sermon was the seal.

The companions understood the weight. Al-Bukhari records that a Jewish man came to Umar ibn al-Khattab and said: “If this ayah had been revealed to us, we would have taken the day of its revelation as a festival.” Umar replied: “By Allah, I know the day it was revealed and the place it was revealed. It was revealed on a Friday, on the Day of Arafah.”

Sahih al-Bukhari #45Sahih

“A Jew came to Umar and said, 'O leader of the believers, there is an ayah in your book which you recite; if it had been revealed to us Jews, we would have taken the day of its revelation as a festival.' Umar asked, 'Which ayah?' He replied, 'This day I have perfected for you your religion...' Umar said, 'I know the day and the place of its revelation. It was revealed on a Friday, on the day of Arafah, and we were with the Prophet.'”

— Tariq ibn Shihab

Two things sit with me here. First: the religion’s completion was dated precisely, and it was on this day. Second: the Jewish scholar recognized the magnitude before some of the Muslims did. He saw that a day so freighted should be marked. Umar’s answer was not to dismiss the observation—it was to acknowledge that the day was already marked, by the Prophet ﷺ and the companions, without needing a new festival grafted on.

3. The Day of Freedom From the Fire

Of all the hadiths about Arafah, this is the one I keep coming back to:

Sunan Ibn Majah #2750Sahih

“There is no day on which Allah ransoms more slaves from the Fire than the Day of Arafah. He draws closer and closer, then He boasts about them before the angels, saying: What do these people want?”

— Aisha

Read that again. Allah boasts of His servants. To the angels. The same angels who objected when humans were being created (2:30), who worried we would spill blood and cause corruption. On the Day of Arafah, their Creator turns to them and boasts about the very creatures they questioned. The reversal is complete. The pilgrims, dusty and disheveled from standing under the sun, have become Allah’s argument to the angels that this creation was worth it.

4. Two Years Erased

For those of us who are not at Arafah, not wearing ihram, not standing on the plain under the sun—there is still a way in. A single fast on this day.

Sunan Ibn Majah #1464Hasan

“Fasting on the Day of Arafah, I hope from Allah, expiates for the sins of the year before and the year after.”

— Abu Qatadah

One fast. Two years of sins expiated. The year behind you, erased. The year ahead, prepaid. There is no other single day in the Islamic calendar that carries this specific reward. Not even Ashura—whose reward is one year—matches it. And for the pilgrim at Arafah, fasting that day is not required; the standing itself is enough.

5. The Best of Duas

The Prophet ﷺ also identified the best dua of the year:

Jami` at-Tirmidhi #3669Hasan

“The best of supplication is the supplication of the Day of Arafah. And the best of what I and the Prophets before me have said is: La ilaha illa Allah, wahdahu la sharika lah, lahu al-mulk wa lahu al-hamd, wa huwa ala kulli shay’in qadeer.”

— Abdullah ibn Amr

Not “one of the best.” The best. And the best version of that best dua is a single line of tawhid—There is no god but Allah alone, without partner. His is the kingdom and His is the praise, and He is able to do all things.The culmination of the best day is a declaration that Allah is one.

The Other Days

The other nine days are not in Arafah’s shadow—each of them carries the weight of the hadith we started with. A righteous deed on any of them is more beloved to Allah than a righteous deed outside. What follows is a tighter pass through the rest.

Days 1 through 8

These days are general in their worship. The Prophet ﷺ did not prescribe a specific ritual unique to day three or day six. What he recommended was any righteous deed: fasting, sadaqa, dhikr, reading the Quran, kindness to parents, removing harm from the path. The ordinary deeds, on extraordinary days, yield extraordinary weight.

The one addition that does distinguish these days is the takbir. Ibn Abbas taught that the takbir—Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, la ilaha illa Allah, Allahu akbar wa lillahi al-hamd—should be recited throughout these days, in markets, streets, mosques, and homes. The early generations were known to raise their voices with it, so much that the markets of Mecca and Medina would ring with it. The ayah we saw earlier—22:28—commands this remembrance by name.

The 9th — Arafah

Covered above. For those not performing Hajj: fast, dua, reflection. The hadith of two years stands on its own.

The 10th — Eid al-Adha

The tenth is Yawm al-Nahr—the Day of Sacrifice. It is Eid al-Adha. It is the day of qurbani. It is also, according to some scholars, the greatest day of the year—there is a narration ranking it even above Arafah because it combines hajj, prayer, sacrifice, and celebration into one day. But the consensus leans the other way: Arafah stands higher. What is not disputed is that the tenth is where the ten days crest.

The sacrifice itself—qurbani—is not a minor ritual. It is a re-enactment of the moment Ibrahim عليه السلام was ready to give his son, and the moment Allah ransomed Ismail عليه السلام with a ram from paradise. Every Eid al-Adha, millions of animals are slaughtered in every corner of the Muslim world, and their meat distributed to the poor. The ritual teaches detachment. The meat teaches generosity. Both together teach that submission is costly and worth it.

The Month Ahead

If the first ten of Dhul Hijjah are the summit, Dhul Qa’dah is the approach. We are at the foot of it today. One doesn’t climb a mountain the morning of the ascent. The climbing starts weeks out: the training, the gear, the acclimation. The same is true here.

What I want to do with this month, in order of weight:

1. Settle the obligations. Any missed fasts from Ramadan. Any outstanding qada. These should be cleared before Dhul Hijjah begins, so voluntary fasts on those days are voluntary in fact, not just in name.
2. Plan the nine fasts. Nine is the maximum—the first through the ninth. Even three is real. Picking which days, in advance, removes the friction of deciding in the moment.
3. Settle the qurbani. If one has the means. Picking the charity or partner now, rather than in the first week of Dhul Hijjah, keeps the act deliberate instead of rushed.
4. Build the dhikr habit. The takbir is the sunnah of these ten days, but it is easier to say a thousand times if the tongue is already moving with dhikr in the weeks before. Build the habit here.
5. Prepare one dua. A specific dua. Something personal. Written down. Something one would actually want Allah to grant on the day when Allah boasts about His servants to the angels.

What Stays With Me

Islamic time is not flat. Some days weigh more than others. Some nights carry more than others. Ramadan has Laylatul Qadr—one night worth more than a thousand months. Dhul Hijjah has the first ten days—each day capable of erasing a year, each night equal to Laylatul Qadr in reward, capped by the Day of Arafah when Allah boasts about His servants to the angels. The calendar is built with peaks.

I am not a scholar. I am someone who recently started paying attention to the Islamic year properly and keeps finding things that stop me in my tracks. The two ten-day windows—Ramadan’s last ten nights and Dhul Hijjah’s first ten days—fall two months apart, with Shawwal and Dhul Qa’dah bridging them. A believer who uses both windows is gathering extraordinary weight twice a year. Most of us gather it once, or neither.

One month from today is a chance. The Quran swore by it. The Prophet ﷺ ranked it above jihad. Allah descends to boast about those who show up on the ninth. The data—the ayahs, the hadiths, the classical consensus—does not discover something the scholars did not already know. It confirms, in detail, what believers have known for fourteen centuries: these days are a door. Whether one walks through it is a matter of preparation.

One month to prepare. May Allah—Al-Karim, Al-Wahhab—grant us the taqwa, the health, and the time to meet Dhul Hijjah ready. Whatever is right in this essay is from Him. Whatever is wrong is mine alone. If something feels off, please let me know.