Eid al-Adha 2024: Meaning, Celebrations & Why Muslims Observe the Festival of Sacrifice
Pilgrims gathered at the Plain of Arafat on Tuesday, May 27, 2026, as the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the climax of Hajj and the beginning of Eid al-Adha—the Festival of Sacrifice—observed by Muslims worldwide. More than 1.7 million worshippers, slightly more than in 2025, stood in silent prayer, their voices rising in supplication as they sought spiritual fulfillment in the same valley where Prophet Muhammad is believed to have delivered his final sermon over 1,400 years ago.
The annual pilgrimage, one of Islam’s Five Pillars, unfolded against a backdrop of geopolitical tension. While Saudi Arabia’s Ministry of Hajj and Umrah reported smooth operations, the shadow of a broader regional conflict—pitting the United States and Israel against Iran—cast uncertainty over the celebrations. In Gaza, where Israel’s months-long offensive has reduced entire neighborhoods to rubble and displaced the majority of the population, families marked Eid in overcrowded shelters. For many, the holiday’s traditional rituals—sacrificing an animal, distributing meat to the poor, and gathering in festive attire—were scaled back drastically. “This Eid is different,” said a resident of Rafah, speaking to Al Jazeera from a tent city. “There is no meat to share, no new clothes for the children. Just prayers and hope for an end to the war.”
The religious significance of Eid al-Adha lies in the Quranic narrative of Prophet Ibrahim’s unwavering faith, when he prepared to sacrifice his son Ismail as an act of obedience to God. Islamic tradition holds that God intervened, replacing Ismail with a ram. This year, as pilgrims performed the symbolic stoning of the devil in Mina—a ritual reenactment of Ibrahim’s trials—the act took on added weight for many. “It’s a reminder of sacrifice, not just of animals, but of resilience,” noted Sheikh Ahmed al-Tayeb, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, during a sermon broadcast from Cairo. “In times of hardship, faith becomes our strongest currency.”
Across the globe, the holiday’s communal spirit was evident in cities from Jerusalem to Jakarta. At the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound in Jerusalem’s Old City, worshippers prayed alongside the Dome of the Rock, their voices echoing through the historic site. In Schiedam, Netherlands, members of the Islamic Community’s South Holland region gathered at the Yildiz Islamic Center, while in New Delhi, markets bustled with last-minute preparations for the feast. The Philippines and Ivory Coast saw families donning their finest attire, though in some regions, economic strains limited celebrations. “We’re making do with what we have,” said Aisha, a mother in Manila, as she prepared a modest meal for her children. “The important thing is coming together, even if it’s just for a moment.”
The contrast between the grandeur of Hajj and the austerity of Eid in conflict zones underscored the duality of the holiday. While Saudi Arabia’s holy sites operated at near-capacity, humanitarian organizations warned of deepening crises in war-torn areas. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reported that Gaza’s displaced population—now exceeding 1.5 million—faces acute shortages of food, clean water, and medical supplies. “Eid al-Adha should be a time of joy and generosity,” said OCHA spokesperson Lynn Hastings in a statement. “For too many, This proves a stark reminder of what they’ve lost.”
As the sun rose on Wednesday, pilgrims in Mina completed the final rites of Hajj, including the stoning of the devil and the symbolic circumambulation of the Kaaba in Mecca. Meanwhile, in cities from Baghdad to Baku, Muslims embraced one another after Eid prayers, sharing blessings and food. Yet for those in Gaza, the holiday’s traditional joy remained tempered by the realities of war. The contrast between the two experiences—one of spiritual fulfillment, the other of enduring hardship—highlighted the complex interplay of faith and circumstance in 2026.