Last month, we explored Rabiʿ al-Awwal, the first spring. This month brings us to Rabiʿ al-Akhir—and, as it turns out, spring isn’t finished yet.
Rabiʿ al-Akhir is the fourth month of the Hijri calendar, also known as Rabiʿ al-Thani. Rabiʿ means spring. Thani means “second,” while akhir means “last” or “latter.” So Rabiʿ al-Thani can be understood as the second Rabiʿ, while Rabiʿ al-Akhir is the latter of the two Rabiʿ months, or the ‘last spring’. Two names. Same month.
There is something about learning these little details that I enjoy. I’ve heard the names of the Islamic months for years, but paying closer attention to them keeps opening doors to language and history I hadn’t thought to explore before.
The names themselves predate Islam. Rabiʿ al-Awwal was associated with the first period of spring when these months received their names, while Rabiʿ al-Akhir followed it. Because the Hijri calendar is lunar, of course, these months no longer remain fixed within the solar seasons.
But as I researched Rabiʿ al-Akhir, something else caught my attention.
What Makes a Month Significant?
Rabiʿ al-Akhir is not one of the four Sacred Months designated by Allah. Those are Muharram, Rajab, Dhul-Qaʿdah, and Dhul-Hijjah. Nor have I found an authentic teaching from Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, prescribing a special fast, prayer, celebration, or other act of worship specifically for Rabiʿ al-Akhir.
At first, when researching a month for this series, it is natural to ask: What happened during this month? What makes it special? What am I supposed to know about it?
But Rabiʿ al-Akhir brings my attention back to something much more fundamental.
Life is sacred.
I mean the sacredness with which we approach this life Allah has given us and the spiritual nature of our existence within it. We are souls on a journey. We are temporarily here on this earth, living the lives Allah has entrusted to us, and we are returning to Him. Allah says:
“O humanity! Indeed, you are laboring restlessly towards your Lord, and will eventually meet Him.”
— Qur’an 84:6
That journey is happening now. Not only during the four Sacred Months. Not only on Fridays, during Hajj, Ramadan or on days marked by great events in Islamic history.
Today. This hour. This very moment.
Living an Embodied Faith
There is something I want to become increasingly conscious of on my sacred journey: I don’t want my faith to only be something I believe. I want it to be something I embody. I want my consciousness of Allah to affect how I speak, how I eat, how I work, how I rest, how I treat people, how I respond when someone hurts me, how I care for my body, how I spend my money, how I use my time, and what I allow to occupy my heart.
That doesn’t mean living every second in some heightened spiritual state. We are human beings. We get tired. We become distracted. We laugh. We grieve. We work. We wash dishes. We pay bills. We care for people. We become frustrated. Sometimes the struggles of this life can feel overwhelming.
But all of that is happening inside our journey toward Allah. The spiritual life isn’t somewhere else. It is here.
Allah says:
“Indeed, we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.”
— Qur’an 2:156
We often hear those words when someone dies or when calamity strikes. But the truth they contain belongs as much to our living as it does to our dying—if not more. We belong to Allah right now.
Holding Fast Along the Way
Some stretches of this journey are easier than others.
There are times when our hearts feel open, and worship comes easily. There are other times when holding on requires determination. We may experience disappointment, grief, illness, uncertainty, loneliness, financial difficulty, family struggles, or simply the accumulated weariness of being human.
Allah tells us:
“And hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided.”
— Qur’an 3:103
Sometimes holding on is itself part of the worship.
We keep making salah. We keep making du’a. We keep asking forgiveness. We keep trying to purify our hearts. We keep correcting ourselves. We keep serving. We keep loving. We keep returning.
Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, taught us that the deeds most beloved to Allah are those that are consistent, even if they are small. There is mercy in that teaching.
Our journey toward Allah isn’t measured only by dramatic spiritual experiences. It is also being shaped in thousands upon thousands of seemingly ordinary moments. The mundane. And those moments accumulate into a life.
Another Month, Another Gift of Time
Perhaps I don’t need Rabiʿ al-Akhir to give me a major historical event around which to organize my attention. The month itself doesn’t have to be extraordinary for being alive within it to be extraordinary. Another month means more time—something none of us has been promised. Another opportunity to make tawbah, to forgive, to repair something, to learn, to serve.
Another opportunity to say Alhamdulillah and actually feel the gratitude behind the words. Another opportunity to purify the heart. Another opportunity to draw closer to Allah. Another opportunity simply to become more conscious of the soul that is passing through this world on its way home.
Allah swears by time in Surah al-ʿAsr:
“By Time! Surely humanity is in grave loss, except those who have faith, do good, and urge each other to the truth, and urge each other to perseverance.”
— Qur’an 103:1–3
Every day matters.
Every month matters.
Every hour matters.
Every second matters.
Not because every moment will feel profound. Most won’t. They matter because this is our life, and our lives belong to Allah.
So I embrace Rabiʿ al-Akhir without needing the month to announce its importance to me. I already know what is important. I am alive. I am Muslim. I belong to Allah. And, insha’Allah, I am still walking toward Him.
If I truly remembered that every moment is part of my journey back to Allah, what might I do differently with the moments He has given me today?
May Al-Hayy, the Ever-Living, make us deeply grateful for the life He has entrusted to us, and may Al-Hadi, the Guide, keep our hearts oriented toward Him throughout the journey.
Ya Allah, purify our hearts and our souls. Give us awareness in our days, purpose in our actions, gratitude in our joys, strength in our struggles, and steadfastness when the road becomes difficult. Help us embody the faith we profess and use well every moment You grant us until the moment we return to You.
Akanke is a native of Atlanta who now resides in Dayton, Ohio. She reverted to Islam in 1994 and is passionate about Islam and Islamic spirituality. Akanke is a graduate of Georgia State University, where she earned a degree in Communication, with a focus on film, TV, and cultural anthropology. Her career is diverse, and her interests span various creative forms of expression. From producing TV and radio shows to creating documentaries, writing, graphic design, and life coaching, she strives to make a lasting and authentic impact wherever she goes. Akanke has been a dedicated supporter of MANA since 2007, currently serving as the organization’s Board Vice President. In this role, she plays a key part in working with the Board President and Secretary to shape the organization’s trajectory. Additionally, she serves as MANA’s part-time Communications Director.
