By Faisal Al-Zamel

I once climbed to the Cave of Hira’, located on Jabal An-Nour in the sacred city of Makkah. As I stood there, I found myself wishing for a camera that could have captured a single frame from 1,400 years ago, a photograph frozen in time, taken from outside the cave. In it, we would see a solitary figure seated in stillness, facing the qiblah. His back would be visible through a narrow crevice in the rock, fully immersed in deep contemplation.

His gaze is fixed toward the Ancient House (Ka`bah). His hands are lifted in supplication: his left hand open, palm raised in humble plea; his right hand closed, except for one finger pointing upward—a gesture declaring the Oneness of Allah, the very same way that Ibrahim (peace be upon him) once called upon his Lord.

In a narrow opening between rugged stone formations, the most profound encounter in human history took place.

The image would show him seated in complete solitude, at a height of 642 meters, during the sacred month of Ramadan. He did not yet know precisely how to worship the God of Ibrahim, as believed in by the few remaining monotheists of Makkah, such as Waraqa ibn Nawfal, Zaid ibn `Amr ibn Nufail, and Quss ibn Sa`ida, who used to circle the Kaʿbah crying out: O people, do you not see? Surely, the trace leads to the journey, and the dung points to the camel. A sky adorned with constellations, an earth with wide paths, and seas with surging waves! Do they not point to the existence of the Almighty Creator?”

The Spirit of Monotheism Amidst Polytheism

Muhammad ibn `Abdullah would walk around the Ka`bah and hear the words of this monotheistic man—whispering his logical, heartfelt expressions of belief in the One Creator. Yet, Muhammad saw from Quraysh nothing but disgrace and indifference. They ignored the call to worship the One True God, and instead devoted themselves to lifeless stones, to which they gave an honor and reverence they did not deserve. It was then that Muhammad made a decision: to withdraw from them during the month of Ramadan, to seclude himself in a place from which he could see them, yet not to witness their irrational, misguided practices.

The Wise Arbitration and the Black Stone

Quraysh greatly admired Muhammad, who combined in his character the virtues of trustworthiness, purity of speech, and a sincere devotion to the refinement of his soul. Because of these noble qualities, they chose him as their arbiter during a dispute that arose while rebuilding the Ka`bah. When they reached the stage of replacing the Black Stone, each tribe wanted the honor of placing it in its rightful position. Tensions rose, and disagreement spread—every clan wanted the honor for itself.

Muhammad proposed a wise and just solution. He called for a cloak and put the Black Stone on the middle of it, and asked a representative of each tribe to take hold of one of the edges of the garment. Together, they raised lifted the stone up. When they reached the designated spot, Muhammad picked it up with his own noble hands and placed it in its original place.

The seclusion in the Cave of Hira granted Prophet Muhammad, (peace be upon him) a rare spiritual clarity. His soul ascended, purified and detached from the human tendencies that so often bind a person to the norms of society—as the Qur’an says:

“Rather, they say, ‘Indeed, we found our fathers upon a religion, and we are in their footsteps rightly guided.’” (Al-Zughruf 43:22)

In that sacred space, the Prophet (peace be upon him) was liberated from the confinement of inherited tradition, and from there—from that lofty height—he looked down upon a society trapped at the foot of the mountain. He looked with the gaze of an eagle, soaring freely in the open sky, gliding through realms unseen by those still anchored to the ground below. He had a strong desire to withdraw from the environment of polytheism, and so he sought solitude in this remote place.

However, he did not yet possess the clear answers that were granted to Ibrahim (peace be upon him) in his dialogue with his people in rejecting idol worship. All he had were the words passed down by the few remaining monotheists in Makkah. Then came the momentous event—the arrival of the Divine Revelation from the Almighty Creator. Its signs and beginnings were later recognized by one of the eldest and most devout monotheists of the time: Waraqa ibn Nawfal. Then came the Chief of the Angels (Gabriel) with the great answer from the heavens to the questions that had long occupied the heart of Muhammad ibn `Abdullah. It happened there—at that lofty height, where no sound could be heard except the whistle of the passing wind and the occasional song of a few birds.

The Momentous Encounter: The Arrival of Jibril

In a narrow opening between rugged stone formations, the most profound encounter in human history took place. Suddenly, Jibril (Gabriel) appeared, standing at the edge of the mountain, in the form of a man. The angel advanced majestically toward the one in the cave, who stared at him for a long time, his tongue tied in shock. He was speechless, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the surprise. The visitor commanded: “Read.” The mysterious visitor repeated his command: “Read.”

Astonishing indeed—it was a man standing before him with no book in hand, yet he commanded with firmness: “Read”. Realizing the gravity of the moment, Muhammad was drawn close to him and replied, his voice shaking, “I am not a reader.” But the command persisted, and this time, the response came in the form of a question: “What shall I read?”—a sign that he knew an answer must follow. Then Gabriel (peace be upon him) declared:

“Recite in the name of your Lord who created – Created man from a clinging substance. Recite, and your Lord is the most Generous – Who taught by the pen.” (Al-`Alaq, 96:1-4)

Muhammad (peace be upon him) listened. These words were unlike any he had ever heard. They were not poetry, nor the murmurings of soothsayers. He, the most eloquent of the Arabs, knew deeply—this was not the speech of man. His awe only grew, especially as the verses spoke of the very themes he had long pondered: the origin of man, the Creator, the search for truth. With calm reverence, he recited—for the first time—the words of Allah, the One Who created the universe and was now teaching him what he had never known. This was the answer he had been yearning for in his retreat.

The First Revelation and the Birth of Prophethood

When the angel departed, the Messenger of Allah left the cave, overwhelmed by awe and fear. He hurried down the mountain, longing only to reach his wife Khadijah, may Allah be pleased with her, and find solace. But the trial intensified the moment he stepped outside the cave. In the solitude of the mountain, a voice echoed from the heavens:

“O Muhammad, you are the Messenger of Allah, and I am Jibril.”

The Prophet (peace be upon him) later recounted to his companions: “I raised my head toward the sky, and there was Jibril in the form of a man, his feet firmly set upon the horizon of the heavens. He was saying, ‘O Muhammad, you are the Messenger of Allah, and I am Jibril.’” The path down the mountain was strewn with rocks and scattered low shrubs—an area often frequented by wild goats passing beneath the cave. Yet on this day, every detail of that familiar scene appeared different in the eyes of Muhammad (peace be upon him) as he descended swiftly from the cave.

He had climbed the mountain as an ordinary man, but descended as a Prophet (may peace and blessings of Allah be upon him).