Islamic Spirituality · Haj
Rituals · Theology
There is a moment in Hajj that stops every pilgrim in their tracks — not with awe, but with something older and more visceral than awe. It is the moment you stand in the valley of Mina, a pebble trembling between your fingers, and you raise your arm toward a towering pillar of stone. You say Allahu Akbar. You throw. And something inside you — something you cannot name — exhales. This is Rami al-Jamarat, the stoning of the pillars, and it is one of the most misunderstood rituals in the entire canon of Islamic worship. The question that haunts nearly every first-time pilgrim, and many scholars before them, is deceptively simple: if Shaytan is one — if we all grew up hearing that Iblees is the devil, the singular whisperer, the ancient enemy — then why are there three pillars? Why a small one, a middle one, and a large one? Why not one? And why do we call them all "Shaytan"? The answer, when you trace it carefully through the Quran, the hadith, and the writings of the classical ulama, turns out to be one of the most illuminating theological journeys in all of Islamic thought.
To understand the ritual properly, you first have to separate two concepts that the modern Muslim mind often collapses into one: Iblees and Shaytan. We treat them as synonyms. We say "Shaytan" in ordinary speech when we mean that inner whisper pushing us toward sin, and we sometimes picture the same creature — the one who refused to bow to Adam, who was cast from the heavens, who vowed to lead humanity astray until the Day of Judgment. But the Quran itself is far more precise. In Surah Al-Baqarah, verse 34, Allah speaks of Iblees by name — he was among the jinn, he was present with the angels at the creation of Adam, and he refused the divine command. He is an individual. A specific creature with a history, a sin, and a sentence. The Quran mentions Iblees by name in eleven places, always in the context of that original act of arrogant disobedience. He is a proper noun, a personal name — the name of one being.
Shaytan, by contrast, is a category — a descriptor, almost a job title. The word shaytan comes from the Arabic root sha-ta-na, meaning to be far removed, to be rebellious, to deviate radically from truth. It is used in the Quran in both singular and plural forms, applied to humans, jinn, and even the whisperings within one's own soul. Surah Al-An'am, verse 112 is perhaps the most striking verse in this regard. Allah says: "And thus We have made for every prophet an enemy — shaytans (plural) among men and jinn, inspiring each other with adorned speech as delusion." Notice the plural. Notice that humans can be shaytans. This single verse dismantles the overly simplistic picture of one horned devil lurking behind every sin. Shaytan is not one — Shaytan is a force that can move through creatures, through whispers, through ideology, through the arrogance inside a human heart. Iblees is the first and foremost Shaytan, the father of all that inclination, but the category is vast.
With that distinction lodged firmly in mind, we can now enter the valley of Mina with new eyes. The three pillars — Jamrat al-Sughra (the small), Jamrat al-Wusta (the middle), and Jamrat al-Kubra (the large, also called Jamrat al-Aqabah) — are not three separate devils standing in a row. The ritual traces its roots to one of the most extraordinary spiritual dramas in all of human history: the trial of the Prophet Ibrahim, peace be upon him, and his son Ismail, peace be upon him, as they walked toward the command of Allah to slaughter what was most precious. This narrative is the key that unlocks everything.
According to a narration transmitted by Ibn Abbas, reported in the Musnad of Ahmad and Sunan Ibn Majah, when Ibrahim was making his way to carry out the command of Allah, Iblees appeared to him at three different locations along the path in Mina — at the first spot, at the second, and at the third. Each time, Iblees attempted to dissuade him. Each time, Ibrahim — unshaken, resolute, consumed entirely by his love of and submission to Allah — pelted the adversary with seven stones, driving him away. This happened three times. The three locations of those divine confrontations became the sites of the three Jamarat. And so when a pilgrim stands before each pillar and throws stones today, they are not attacking three separate entities — they are re-enacting one story of three temptations and three triumphs of the human will over the whispering enemy.
What is remarkable about this narrative is that the temptations did not come at random. Each confrontation at a different location corresponds, in the classical scholarly understanding, to a different kind of deception that Shaytan deploys against the believer. The first encounter, at the smallest Jamra, represents the whisper of hesitation — the quiet voice that says: "Are you truly sure this is from Allah? Could you be mistaken?" The second encounter, at the middle Jamra, represents the whisper of sentiment and attachment — "Think of your son, think of what you are about to do. Surely love and mercy demand you stop." The third and largest confrontation, at the great Jamra of Aqabah, is where the deception reaches its peak, where Shaytan makes his most fervent, desperate attempt to turn Ibrahim away from the threshold of the final act. This is why the Jamrat al-Kubra is stoned on the Day of Sacrifice (Yawm al-Nahr) first and alone, and then all three are stoned on the subsequent days of Tashreeq. The structure of the ritual itself encodes spiritual pedagogy.
The scholars of Islam have always been careful to stress that this ritual is not about mythology or superstition. Ibn Qudamah in Al-Mughni and Ibn al-Qayyim in Zaad al-Ma'aad both emphasize that the act of throwing stones in Hajj falls into the category of ta'abbudi — pure, unexplained worship performed because Allah commanded it, and because the Prophet ﷺ demonstrated it. This is a crucial point, because the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ himself said, as recorded in Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim: "Take your rituals from me." The Prophet ﷺ threw stones at these locations, and that single fact is sufficient justification for every Muslim who performs this act until the end of time. Yet the wisdom behind the ritual does not diminish because of its obligatory nature — it deepens it.
There is another layer of understanding that the great commentator Imam al-Nawawi draws our attention to in his commentary on Sahih Muslim. He notes that the number three in this ritual is not arbitrary — three is not about three separate devils, three buildings, or three theological enemies. It is about the completeness of the trial of Ibrahim. The number three, across many prophetic encounters in the Quran and Sunnah, represents the full arc of a test — the beginning, the escalation, and the crisis. By reliving all three stages, the pilgrim does not merely perform a historical re-enactment. They pass through the psychological and spiritual geography of every believer's struggle with the whispering enemy — from doubt, to emotional manipulation, to outright confrontation at the moment of highest stakes.
We should also pause on what the ritual teaches us about the nature of Iblees himself. After his expulsion from the heavens, Iblees was granted a reprieve until the Day of Judgment — not out of divine neglect, but as part of a cosmic arrangement by which human free will would be genuinely tested. In Surah Al-Hijr, verses 36-40, Iblees makes his vow openly to Allah: "My Lord, then grant me respite until the Day they are resurrected. He said: Then indeed, you are of those reprieved... except for My servants among them who are sincere." This is a terrifying and clarifying passage. Iblees does not hide. He announces his mission with full confidence that most of humanity will follow him — not through force, not through magic, but through whispers. His only weapon is suggestion. And the Quran tells us his weapon is almost universally effective, except upon those servants of Allah who are mukhlas — sincerely purified.
This is why scholars like Sheikh Ibn Baz and Sheikh Ibn Uthaymeen, when asked about the meaning of the Jamarat, consistently redirect the questioner from the external act to the internal reality: the pebbles thrown at the pillar are a symbol of the commitment to reject Shaytan's whispers in daily life. The pillar does not bleed. Iblees is not actually present in Mina — he was driven away by Ibrahim's pebbles over four thousand years ago. What is present is the memory of that confrontation, made tactile and visceral and personal for every pilgrim who takes their place where Ibrahim once stood. The wisdom of the ritual is that it engraves the commitment to resist Shaytan not in the mind but in the muscles, in the voice raised in takbir, in the physical act of throwing.
There is a question that scholars have long engaged with — and which many ordinary Muslims quietly wonder — about how it is that the same Iblees could appear in three places along the same path in rapid succession. Is this not physically impossible for a single being? The scholars offer several responses. First, jinn are not subject to the same physical constraints as humans — the Quran and hadith literature are replete with accounts of jinn moving with extraordinary speed and appearing in multiple forms. Second, and perhaps more theologically significant, many scholars read the narrative not as a literal three separate appearances but as a description of three stages of inward temptation that Ibrahim experienced at three moments during his walk — Shaytan working through the corridors of the heart, not necessarily through physical manifestation. Imam al-Qurtubi in his Tafsir suggests that both readings are valid and not mutually exclusive.
What Classical Scholars Say About the Jamarat
- Ibn Kathir (d. 774H) — confirms the narrative of Ibrahim's three encounters with Iblees in Mina as the authentic basis of the ritual in Al-Bidayah wal-Nihayah.
- Ibn al-Qayyim (d. 751H) — in Zaad al-Ma'aad, emphasizes the ta'abbudi (pure worship) dimension: the ritual's wisdom transcends complete rational analysis.
- Al-Nawawi (d. 676H) — in Sharh Sahih Muslim, affirms that pilgrims should perform the stoning with full presence of heart, not as a mechanical act.
- Ibn Qudamah (d. 620H) — in Al-Mughni, discusses the jurisprudence of Rami comprehensively and the scholarly consensus on its mandatory nature during Hajj.
- Sheikh Muhammad ibn Uthaymeen (d. 2001CE) — in his Hajj explanations, links the Jamarat to the daily battle with Shaytan and urges pilgrims to renew their intention to resist temptation.
- Sheikh Abd al-Aziz ibn Baz (d. 1999CE) — emphasizes that the Jamarat marks the spots of Ibrahim's confrontations and the act reinforces the Muslim's rejection of Shaytan in life.
One of the most moving dimensions of the Jamarat is its relationship to the concept of tawakkul — complete and utter reliance upon Allah. Ibrahim, at each of those three confrontations, did not stop to debate with Iblees. He did not negotiate. He did not try to prove a point or win an argument. He simply threw. The throwing itself was the answer. This is deeply instructive for every Muslim struggling with the subtler forms of Shaytan's influence in daily life — the overthinking, the rationalizing of sin, the endless internal debates that end with compromise. The Prophet ﷺ said, as narrated in Sahih Muslim (Hadith 2174): "If you feel the whisper of Shaytan, seek refuge in Allah and spit (dryly) to your left three times, and turn away." Notice again the number three. Notice the simplicity of the response. The believer does not engage, does not entertain, does not debate — they turn away. The pebble thrown in Mina is, at its core, a three-dimensional act of turning away.
The Quran's frequent use of the plural form — shayateen, devils — also explains why the ritual involves three pillars without it feeling inconsistent with Islamic monotheism or the belief in one original rebel. Islam does not teach that there is one supernatural devil responsible for all evil. Rather, evil is understood as a principle — a direction of deviation — that can inhabit many vessels. Surah Al-Baqarah, verse 268 tells us: "Shaytan threatens you with poverty and commands you to immorality, while Allah promises you forgiveness from Him and bounty." The word Shaytan here is singular, but it is functioning as a principle — the force of fear, scarcity, and moral compromise — rather than a specific named individual. This flexibility in the Quran's language is itself a theological lesson: the real danger is not one creature lurking in a cave somewhere — the real danger is the orientation toward what Shaytan represents, and that orientation can live in a human heart, a corrupt culture, an unjust system, or a poisoned friendship.
When Allah says in Surah Ya-Sin, verse 60: "Did I not enjoin upon you, O children of Adam, that you should not worship Shaytan — indeed, he is to you a clear enemy?" — the scholars note that "worshipping Shaytan" does not mean performing prayers to the devil. It means following his suggestions. It means letting his whisper determine your choices. Every time a person chooses arrogance over humility, lust over restraint, cruelty over compassion, envy over gratitude — that, the Quran says, is a form of following Shaytan. The three pillars at Mina stand as a monument to the truth that this following is not inevitable — that Ibrahim proved it is possible to stand at the edge of the greatest sacrifice imaginable, with every natural human emotion screaming at you to stop, and still choose Allah.
There is also a dimension of the ritual that speaks directly to the community of believers. Hajj is the only act of worship in Islam where millions gather simultaneously at the same place, performing the same acts, at the same moments. The Jamarat is experienced not as a private spiritual exercise but as a vast collective declaration. When two million people raise their arms and throw — Allahu Akbar ringing across the valley of Mina from every direction — it is not just an individual saying "I reject Shaytan." It is humanity speaking. It is the progeny of Adam, gathered once again in the valley where their forefather's trial was played out, renewing the declaration that they belong to Allah and not to the whisperer who once claimed he could lead them all astray.
The contemporary scholar Tariq Ramadan, in his reflections on Hajj, writes that the Jamarat is a ritual of conscious self-confrontation. You do not throw stones at Shaytan — you throw stones at what Shaytan has planted in you. The pebbles are directed outward, but the journey is inward. This reading finds strong grounding in the classical tradition: Al-Ghazali in Ihya Ulum al-Din writes at length about how the Hajj rituals are designed to be lived twice — once in the body, once in the soul. The body goes to Mina. The soul goes to the threshold of its greatest trial. The body throws pebbles. The soul makes a vow.
Finally, it is worth addressing one more misunderstanding that occasionally circulates — the idea that the pillars themselves represent Shaytan's wife, Shaytan's son, or various demonic companions. This has no basis in authentic narrations. IslamQA, citing the majority scholarly position, is clear: the three Jamarat represent the three locations where Iblees appeared to Ibrahim, and the locations only. They do not represent three distinct beings. No reliable narration — not in the six canonical hadith collections, not in the major classical commentaries — names Shaytan's family members as the symbols of the three pillars. Muslims are advised to hold firmly to what is established and avoid embellishing the sacred narrative with what is not.
The ritual of Rami al-Jamarat, in its complete theological depth, is one of the most sophisticated acts of worship Islam has given to humanity. It is simultaneously historical commemoration, spiritual warfare, embodied commitment, and communal vow. The three pillars are not three enemies — they are three moments in one man's greatest test, and by extension, three moments in every believer's eternal confrontation with the whispering force of deviation within and without. Iblees is one. Shaytan is many. The three pillars stand at the intersection of that truth: one ancient enemy, working through three stages of temptation, defeated — by the grace of Allah — at each one. That is the story every pilgrim's arm retells with every stone that flies. And that is the story the valley of Mina has been holding in its stones since the day Ibrahim walked through it, with his beloved son by his side, choosing Allah with every step.
Sources & References
- Holy Quran — Surah Al-Baqarah 2:34, 268; Al-An'am 6:112; Al-Hijr 15:36-40; Ya-Sin 36:60; Fatir 35:6; Al-A'raf 7:200 — quran.com
- Sahih Muslim — Hadith 2174 (on seeking refuge from Shaytan's whisper) — sunnah.com/muslim:2174
- Sunan Ibn Majah — Hadith 3023 (Rami al-Jamarat and Ibrahim's confrontations with Iblees) — sunnah.com/ibnmajah:3023
- Sahih Bukhari — Hadith 1732 (Prophet ﷺ performing and commanding Rami) — sunnah.com/bukhari:1732
- Ibn Kathir, Al-Bidayah wal-Nihayah — the story of Ibrahim and Ismail in Mina.
- Ibn al-Qayyim al-Jawziyyah, Zaad al-Ma'aad fi Hady Khayr al-Ibad — on the wisdom of Hajj rituals.
- Al-Nawawi, Sharh Sahih Muslim — commentary on the Jamarat and spiritual presence.
- Ibn Qudamah, Al-Mughni — detailed fiqh of Rami al-Jamarat.
- Al-Ghazali, Ihya Ulum al-Din (Book of Hajj) — inward dimensions of pilgrimage.
- Al-Qurtubi, Al-Jami' li-Ahkam al-Quran — IslamWeb fatwa 88186
- IslamQA — islamqa.info/en/answers/37877 — scholarly consensus on the Jamarat
- Islam Religion — Wisdom Behind Hajj Rituals
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