The Spirit of Eid-ul-Adha: Beyond animal sacrifice
By: Sahil Swe
Eid al-Adha (Arabic: عيد الأضحى, romanized: ʿĪd al-ʾAḍḥā, lit. ’Feast of Sacrifice’) is the second of the two main festivals in Islam alongside Eid al-Fitr. It takes place on the 10th of Dhu al-Hijja, the twelfth and final month of the Islamic calendar.
Celebrations and observances are typically carried over to the next three days, referred to as the Tashreeq days. Eid-ul-Adha, known as the “Festival of Sacrifice,” is among the most revered celebrations in the Islamic world. But over time, its essence has often been constricted to just one dimension—the ritual slaughter of animals. While sacrifice is a significant symbol of this occasion, it is not the sole essence of Eid-ul-Adha. In fact, Islam never glorified bloodshed, but rather glorified intention, piety, and the spirit of submission to God’s will.
Today, in a world where ethics, environment, and empathy converge with tradition, it is time to revisit and re-understand the deeper layers of Eid-ul-Adha—not just as a ritual, but as a philosophical guide to ethical living, social responsibility, and spiritual growth.
A Legacy of Faith and Trust
Eid-ul-Adha, often called the Festival of Sacrifice, is one of the most sacred occasions in the Islamic calendar. But behind the outward rituals lies a much deeper truth—a legacy of unwavering faith, heartfelt submission, and selfless love. At its heart, Eid-ul-Adha is not only about sacrifice. It is about trust—trust in God, trust in His wisdom, and trust in the higher values that shape a meaningful life.
The name itself holds great significance. Eid comes from the Arabic root meaning “to return,” a reminder that this festival is an annual return to the essence of faith. Adha means sacrifice, but not only of animals—it points to the inner sacrifices we must make, like our pride, ego, and selfish desires. Together, Eid-ul-Adha becomes a return to a state of spiritual surrender and trust in God’s will.
Two main acts are performed on this day: the congregational prayer and the symbolic sacrifice. Both reflect the soul of Eid-ul-Adha. The first—prayer—is an expression of modesty. The second—sacrifice—is an embodiment of selflessness.
During the Eid prayer, Muslims gather in mosques or open fields to offer two units of namaz. This prayer includes the takbir, the repeated proclamation that “God is Great.” But its real meaning is deeply humbling: God is Great—and I am not. It reminds us that God is the Creator, and we are His creation. He is the Giver, and we are the recipients. This expression of humility is the true spirit of prayer. It invites us to let go of arrogance and instead live with dignity and submission.
Islam, after all, means submission. And submission is the highest form of modesty—not forced, but chosen, out of love and reverence. In this way, Islam teaches us to stand before God with a heart stripped of pride and filled with gratitude.
Look around the universe, and you will see this same humility everywhere. The planets move silently, never leaving their paths. The stars obey the laws written into their being. The moon never demands more than its share of light. The entire cosmos functions in quiet submission to its Creator. The culture of the universe is one of harmony, order, and modesty. Shouldn’t we, too, as thinking beings, mirror that grace?
Then comes the second act of Eid-ul-Adha—the sacrifice. But what are we truly sacrificing? It is not the animal that matters most. The Qur’an itself says, “Their flesh and their blood do not reach Allah; it is your piety that reaches Him” (Qur’an 22:37).
The real offering is within. The act is symbolic, a powerful reminder of Prophet Ibrahim’s (Abraham’s) supreme test of faith, when he was asked to sacrifice his beloved son, Ismail. It was a test of heart, not of harm. And just as Ibrahim was about to make the ultimate sacrifice, God intervened—because the lesson was complete. It was not about loss. It was about love.
Eid-ul-Adha is a moment when each believer is asked to look inward and ask: What am I willing to surrender for the sake of truth? Can I silence my ego for the greater good? Can I sacrifice comfort, pride, or personal gain for justice, compassion, or righteousness?
Every year, as Muslims across the world participate in qurbani, they are not merely re-enacting history. They are renewing a legacy. A legacy carried by the noble family of Abraham—by the father’s obedience, the son’s trust, and the mother Hajira’s unbreakable resilience. It is a story that transcends religion and time. A story that whispers to all humanity: True greatness lies in submission, not dominance. In humility, not arrogance. In trust, not fear.
In our times, many have begun to explore new dimensions of sacrifice—some choosing to honor the spirit of Eid by planting trees, donating food, caring for animals, or giving generously to those in need. These acts, too, are beautiful reflections of sacrifice when done with sincerity. Science tells us that compassion for the environment, empathy for other living beings, and sustainable choices are not just ethically right—they are necessary for survival. Islam embraces this too. Mercy to animals, care for the planet, and generosity toward fellow humans are all forms of ibadah—worship.
.Was animal sacrifice the Purpose or the Metaphor?
To understand the festival, we must go back to its roots. The origin of Eid-ul-Adha lies in the profound story of Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) and his willingness to sacrifice his beloved son Ismail (Ishmael) in obedience to a divine command. But when the moment came, God replaced the boy with a ram, symbolizing that it was not the blood God wanted—it was the submission.
The Qur’an clarifies this point emphatically:
“It is not their flesh or blood that reaches Allah, but your piety (taqwa).” (Surah Al-Hajj 22:37)
This verse becomes a philosophical cornerstone: the physical act of slaughtering an animal was never meant to be the core objective. The deeper intention—to detach from the ego, from materialism, and from selfishness—is the essence of the sacrifice. The animal is symbolic of our base desires, greed, pride, and arrogance. The real sacrifice is the willingness to purify the soul.
Why Then Did Sacrifice Exist in the First Place?
Historically, societies were agrarian and pastoral. Animals were part of the economy and daily life. Sacrifice served as a communal charity, where meat was distributed to those who rarely accessed protein-rich food. It also had a social purpose—ensuring inclusion, compassion, and nourishment for all.
But Islam did not mandate that animals be slaughtered without reason or without regulation. The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) strictly forbade animal cruelty. He said:
“Verily, Allah has prescribed ihsan (excellence) in all things. So when you kill, kill well; and when you slaughter, slaughter well.” (Sahih Muslim 1955)
This hadith is a foundation of animal ethics in Islam—even in sacrifice; mercy, purpose, and respect were required.
Philosophical Interpretation -Sacrifice of the Ego & Environmental Lens: A New Perspective
If Prophet Ibrahim’s trial was about giving up what was dearest to him, then for us today, the question becomes:
- Can we sacrifice our arrogance, even when we’re right?
- Can we give up our comforts to protect the planet?
- Can we let go of our prejudices to embrace empathy?
Eid-ul-Adha is the annual spiritual audit of our moral life. The animal we are asked to slaughter may not just have four legs—it may live inside us: the inner beast of hatred, lust, pride, greed, or injustice. In an age of climate crisis and mass animal farming, we are morally compelled to rethink the impact of excessive meat consumption.
Scientific data shows Qurbani, when practiced consciously, does not have to harm the environment. Unlike daily industrial meat consumption, it is performed just once a year with spiritual intention. By choosing locally raised animals, avoiding waste, and sharing meat with the needy, we reduce environmental impact and promote social justice. In fact, small-scale ethical Qurbani supports biodiversity and rural economies. Islam encourages balance—so Qurbani, done right, can honor both faith and environmental responsibility.
Remember, Eid-ul-Adha gives us a moment to reflect, not only on our relationship with God, but on our stewardship of the Earth. The Quran calls humans “Khalifa” (vicegerents) on Earth (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:30). A vicegerent must protect, not destroy. Therefore, to perform Qurbani today with awareness means to:
- Choose ethical, locally sourced meat.
- Avoid waste.
- When isn’t able Or opt for alternative forms of sacrifice—like donating the money to plant trees, support the poor, or build sustainable communities.
At last, the spirit of Eid-ul-Adha is timeless—but its expression must remain relevant. In its highest form, it asks us to sacrifice pride for humility, wealth for charity, and consumption for sustainability. Whether we slaughter an animal or not, the deeper question remains: what will we sacrifice within ourselves to bring harmony to our soul, our society, and our planet?
So, Eid-ul-Adha is not a moment locked in the past. It is alive, relevant, and deeply needed today. It asks us to go beyond the ritual and enter the realm of meaning. It urges us to live a life shaped by faith, humility, and service to others.
This is the true spirit of Eid-ul-Adha—a legacy of faith and trust. One that invites us all to return to what really matters.
(The author is a researcher. He regularly contributes to ‘Kashmir Vision’)
