Jabal Abu Qubays: The Silent Witness of Makkah’s Sacred History
In the heart of the holiest city on Earth, where millions of souls converge in a timeless ritual of faith, a silent guardian stands watch. It is a mountain of sun-scorched rock and ancient memory, its slopes rising to the east of the sacred Kaaba, casting a long shadow over the Grand Mosque as the sun makes its daily journey across the Arabian sky. This is Jabal Abu Qubays, a name that resonates with the deepest echoes of Islamic history. It is more than a mountain; it is a witness, a stage, and a sanctuary, its story inextricably woven into the very fabric of Makkah and the message of Islam.
To understand Abu Qubays is to understand the geography of revelation itself. Before the city was Makkah, and before the valley was filled with the sounds of pilgrimage, tradition holds that this was the very first mountain created by God on Earth. In the primordial quiet of a new world, it stood as a foundational pillar, destined to observe the unfolding of humanity’s most profound spiritual drama. Its purpose became manifest when the world was washed clean by the great flood of Prophet Nuh. As the waters surged, the sacred Hajar al-Aswad, the Black Stone sent down from Paradise, was taken into the mountain’s care. It lay dormant within the rocky heart of Abu Qubays, a hidden jewel awaiting its time.
Centuries passed. The floodwaters receded, and the barren valley of Bakkah was chosen for a divine purpose. It was here that Prophet Ibrahim, the friend of God, arrived with his wife Hajar and their infant son, Isma’il. When Ibrahim was commanded to raise the foundations of the House of God, the Kaaba, he sought the cornerstone that had been part of the original structure built by Adam. It was then that Jabal Abu Qubays fulfilled its ancient trust. A divine light is said to have emanated from its slopes, or perhaps a voice called out, guiding Ibrahim to the resting place of the Black Stone. He retrieved it from the mountain’s core and placed it in the eastern corner of the Kaaba, where it remains to this day, a celestial marker for the beginning of circumambulation and a link to the dawn of creation. The mountain had not just given a stone; it had anchored the very center of the monotheistic world.
In the Dawn of Time: The First Mountain and the Sacred Stone
As generations came and went, the seeds of monotheism sown by Ibrahim began to wither in the valley. The tribe of Jurhum, and later Khuza’ah, became custodians of the Kaaba, but the clarity of pure faith grew clouded. The memory of the one God was slowly replaced by a pantheon of idols, each with its own name and ritual. From its vantage point, Abu Qubays watched as the sacred precinct around the Kaaba, a space meant for the worship of the unseen Creator, became crowded with the stone figures of Hubal, Al-Lat, Al-Uzza, and Manat. The call of Ibrahim faded into a murmur, replaced by the boisterous chants of pagan festivals and the dark practices of a society lost in ignorance, the Jahiliyyah.
The mountain became a part of the city’s cultural and social landscape. Its name is said to have come from a man of the Khuza’ah tribe, Qubays ibn Shalah, who was the first to build a house upon its slopes, seeking refuge or perhaps a place of prominence. It became a landmark for the powerful Quraysh tribe, who eventually took control of Makkah. Its peak was a place from which to make proclamations, its caves a refuge for solitary contemplation, and its presence a constant, reassuring feature in the lives of the Makkans. Yet, it remained a silent observer of the spiritual darkness that had enveloped the land, awaiting another moment of divine intervention, a new dawn that would break from the very people living in its shadow.
A Stage for Prophecy and Miracles
That dawn arrived with the birth of Muhammad ibn Abdullah, a descendant of Ibrahim and Isma’il. In the fullness of time, he received the first revelation in the Cave of Hira on a different mountain, Jabal al-Nour. But it was in the shadow of Abu Qubays that his public mission would be irrevocably launched. Commanded by God to warn his nearest kinsmen, the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) ascended Mount Safa, a small hill that is a rocky outcrop at the foot of the great Abu Qubays. From this humble pedestal, with the towering mass of the mountain behind him, he looked down upon the clans of Quraysh he had summoned.
His voice rang out in the still air, not with the arrogance of a chieftain, but with the urgency of a warner. “O Banu Hashim! O Banu Abd Manaf!…” he called, gathering their attention. “If I were to tell you that an army was advancing from behind this mountain, would you believe me?” They answered with one voice that they would, for they had never known him to lie. It was a testament to his character, the perfect prelude to his message. But when he declared his true purpose—to call them to the worship of one God and to warn them of a great chastisement—the warmth turned to ice. The harshest rejection came from his own uncle, Abu Lahab, whose words of scorn would be immortalized in the Quran as a lesson for all time. In that pivotal moment, with the ancient stones of Abu Qubays as his witness, the Prophet declared his mission to the world, and the lines of belief and disbelief were drawn at its feet.
As his message grew, so did the opposition. The leaders of Quraysh, steeped in their traditions and vested in the economy of idol worship, demanded proof. They gathered before the Prophet one night, a delegation of skeptics and mockers, and issued a challenge: “If you are truly a prophet, then show us a sign, a miracle that we cannot deny.” In the clear, dark sky of the desert, the full moon hung like a silver lamp. The Prophet turned to his Lord in prayer, and then, pointing a finger toward the heavens, a wonder unfolded. The moon split into two distinct halves. The Makkans stared in disbelief, rubbing their eyes. One half of the luminous disc appeared to rest over the peak of Jabal Abu Qubays, while the other hung suspended over the opposing mountain, Qu’ayqa’an. The valley was bathed in an ethereal, divided light. For a moment, the universe itself seemed to bend to the will of God to affirm His messenger. This event, the Shaqq al-Qamar, was so profound that it was enshrined in the sacred text: “The Hour has drawn near, and the moon has been split.” (Quran 54:1). The mountain that had once cradled the Black Stone now served as a celestial frame for the splitting of the moon—a powerful, cosmic testament to the truth of the prophecy unfolding below.
Echoes in Stone: From Caliphs to Kings
The Prophet’s mission triumphed. Islam spread from Makkah to the far corners of the earth, and the idols that had polluted the Kaaba’s sanctity were shattered. Throughout the centuries that followed, Jabal Abu Qubays continued its role as a silent witness. It saw the righteous caliphs who came for pilgrimage, the expansion of the mosque, and the ebb and flow of empires. But it also witnessed moments of profound tragedy that served as a reminder of the fragility of peace and the destructive nature of human ambition.
One of the darkest of these episodes occurred during the second Islamic civil war. The noble companion Abdullah ibn al-Zubayr, refusing to pledge allegiance to the Umayyad caliph, had established his authority in Makkah, making it his capital. In response, the ruthless Umayyad general Al-Hajjaj ibn Yusuf marched on the holy city and laid siege to it. In an act of shocking impiety, he placed a massive catapult upon the peak of Jabal Abu Qubays. From this hallowed high ground, which had hosted a divine miracle, stones were launched against the Grand Mosque and the Kaaba itself, damaging its blessed walls. The mountain that once served as a backdrop for revelation was now being used as a weapon platform against the very house it was created to protect. It was a harrowing lesson that sacred geography offers no immunity from the consequences of human discord.
In times of peace, however, the mountain reclaimed its spiritual aura. Scholars and mystics sought its heights for contemplation, gazing down at the circumambulating pilgrims who moved like a swirling galaxy around the Kaaba’s stellar core. Houses and lodges were built upon its slopes, offering unparalleled views of the sanctuary, their inhabitants awakening to the call to prayer echoing from the minarets below. It became a coveted location, a place where the worldly desire for a good view merged with the spiritual desire for proximity to the divine. The mountain, once a rugged, natural peak, became increasingly integrated into the urban fabric of the growing city, its stones providing the foundations for the homes of the faithful.
Today, the face of Jabal Abu Qubays is transformed. The rugged slopes that once witnessed the Prophet’s call are now crowned by a grand royal palace, a symbol of the modern Saudi state and its custodianship of the holy sites. The original, raw texture of the mountain has been reshaped by development, its form altered to accommodate the needs of a global city that hosts millions. Some may lament the loss of its pristine, historical state, yet its essence remains untouched. Its physical location, its unshakeable presence overlooking the Kaaba, is eternal. Pilgrims still lift their eyes to its peak, and though they see a palace, their hearts recall the stories of the Black Stone, the splitting of the moon, and the first public call to Islam that was made at its base.
Jabal Abu Qubays is more than a geological feature; it is a repository of sacred memory. It has absorbed the prayers of prophets, the awe of companions, the tears of saints, and the echoes of history’s greatest triumphs and deepest sorrows. It saw the world before the Kaaba and will, by God’s will, see it until the end of time. It stands as a timeless reminder that the earth and stones around us are not merely inert objects; they are witnesses, bearing a silent, powerful testimony to the enduring conversation between humanity and its Creator. To stand in the courtyard of the Grand Mosque and gaze up at Abu Qubays is to connect with the very beginning of the story, to feel the weight and wonder of every prophet, pilgrim, and seeker who ever stood on that blessed ground.
