The Qur’an recounts, in Sūrat 37, the episode in which Ibrāhīm (Abraham) believes he must sacrifice his son. Yet where Genesis explicitly names Isaac, the Qur’anic text remains silent. Nowhere does it identify the child as either Isḥāq (Isaac) or Ismāʿīl (Ishmael). This silence is not a gap; it is a narrative choice.
Within the Muslim tradition, it gave rise to sustained debate, not only about the identity of the son, but about what that identity implies in terms of lineage, sacred geography, and the relationship to other Abrahamic traditions.
“The text does not say, “God has commanded me to sacrifice you.” Instead, it emphasizes the dream (ruʾyā) and Abraham’s interpretation of it.”
A Deliberately Sparse Narrative
The Qur’anic account (37:100–111) is striking in its sobriety. Abraham first asks God to grant him “a righteous son.” The child grows, walks alongside his father, and then the vision occurs:
“O my son, I see in a dream that I am sacrificing you; consider, then, what you think.” (37:102)
The son replies:
“O my father, do what you are commanded; you will find me, if God wills, among the steadfast.”
The text does not say, “God has commanded me to sacrifice you.” Instead, it emphasizes the dream (ruʾyā) and Abraham’s interpretation of it.
This nuance was already noted by Muhammad ibn Jarir al-Tabari (d. 923), who understood the scene not as the execution of a divine command to kill, but as a test of human interpretation of a divine sign. Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 1209) developed a similar reading. What is at stake is not obedience to an explicit command, but the purity of intention and the ability to correctly interpret what has been perceived.
“It is within this framework that the central question emerges: who is this son whom the Qur’an does not name? … The son is identified as the one who accompanies Abraham to Mecca, participates in the establishment near the Kaaba, and helps build the sanctuary … Isaac, by contrast, is associated, both in the Biblical and Qur’anic imagination, with Palestine, not the Ḥijāz. To identify the son as Ishmael is therefore to anchor the Abrahamic trial in the sacred landscape of Mecca and in the ritual memory of pilgrimage.”
A Son Without a Name
It is within this framework that the central question emerges: who is this son whom the Qur’an does not name?
Contrary to common assumptions, early Islam did not immediately reach consensus. Al-Tabari records, with characteristic philological care, traditions identifying the child as Isaac, transmitted in particular from Ali ibn Abi Talib (d. 661) and Al-Zuhri (d. 742), clearly echoing the Biblical narrative.
The main argument rests on what follows the episode:
“We gave him glad tidings of Isaac, a prophet among the righteous.” (37:112)
Some interpreted this as a narrative continuation, confirming Isaac’s central role.
Yet other early traditions identify the son as Ishmael. Abd Allah ibn Abbas (d. 688), whose authority carries great weight, is frequently cited in support of this view. From the 9th century onward, this position became dominant, notably in the works of Muqatil ibn Sulayman (d. 767) and Ibn Kathir.
At this stage, the argument shifts from textual analysis to sacred geography. The son is identified as the one who accompanies Abraham to Mecca, participates in the establishment near the Kaaba, and helps build the sanctuary (Qur’an 2:125–127).
Isaac, by contrast, is associated, both in the Biblical and Qur’anic imagination, with Palestine, not the Ḥijāz. To identify the son as Ishmael is therefore to anchor the Abrahamic trial in the sacred landscape of Mecca and in the ritual memory of pilgrimage.
“An Isaac-centered reading situates Islam in closer continuity with Judaism…An Ishmael-centered reading produces a decisive shift. It grants spiritual centrality to Arab lineage, makes Mecca the stage of the supreme trial, and inscribes Islam within a distinct religious geography, while still claiming the same Abrahamic root.”
Beyond Exegesis: A Question of Identity
The stakes go far beyond a simple exegetical curiosity.
An Isaac-centered reading situates Islam in closer continuity with Judaism. The son of promise, heir to the prophetic lineage in Canaan, is also the figure through whom the drama of non-sacrifice is expressed.
An Ishmael-centered reading produces a decisive shift. It grants spiritual centrality to Arab lineage, makes Mecca the stage of the supreme trial, and inscribes Islam within a distinct religious geography, while still claiming the same Abrahamic root.
The scholar Reuven Firestone has shown, in Journeys in Holy Lands, how traditions concerning Ishmael evolved, from a secondary figure to a spiritual ancestor of the Arabs, in parallel with the emergence of a specifically Arab monotheism.
“The scene thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual transmission. What unfolds between Abraham and his son is a model of how to receive, interpret, and assume a sign from God. The son is not a silent victim. He is a moral subject engaged in dialogue: “Consider, then, what you think.”
The Meaning of Silence
From a textual perspective, however, the Qur’an’s refusal to name the son remains significant.
Al-Tabari suggests that the Qur’an “deliberately omits the name so that attention focuses on the act, not the lineage.” Al-Qurtubi similarly argues that the aim is not to resolve a genealogical dispute, but to highlight the moral quality of what he calls “the two believers”: the father willing to relinquish what is most precious, and the son who consents fully to this logic of trust.
The scene thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual transmission. What unfolds between Abraham and his son is a model of how to receive, interpret, and assume a sign from God.
The son is not a silent victim. He is a moral subject engaged in dialogue:
“Consider, then, what you think.”
This line, absent from Genesis, fascinated the Andalusian jurist Ibn Atiyya (d. 1147), who saw in it the foundation of a dialogical model of prophetic education. The father does not impose; he consults.
“This active role shapes the figure of the son … the son’s identity carries symbolic weight. It articulates how Islam situates itself in relation to other heirs of Abraham.”
The Son as Moral Figure
This active role shapes the figure of the son.
If one follows the dominant tradition identifying him as Ishmael, the episode becomes the moment when the future ancestor of the Arabs embodies a virtue explicitly attributed to him elsewhere:
“He was true to his promise.” (19:54)
His consent to the sacrifice, understood as consent to the truth of the vision rather than to violence, anticipates a form of piety centered on steadfastness (istiqāma).
If, on the other hand, one adopts the Isaac-centered reading, the episode reinforces Isaac’s role as a vehicle of universal lineage shared with Judaism. The son through whom the covenant passes is also the one through whom the break with archaic sacrificial logic is expressed.
In both cases, the son’s identity carries symbolic weight. It articulates how Islam situates itself in relation to other heirs of Abraham.
“… The question “Isaac or Ishmael?” is not eliminated, but relativized. The child becomes a figure of believing consciousness rather than of a specific lineage.”
Contemporary Readings: Beyond Genealogy
Many modern scholars return to the text itself and take its silence seriously.
Mohammed Arkoun interprets this silence as a gesture of “de-genealogization.” By refusing to specify lineage, the Qur’an shifts attention toward what he calls the “structure of trial,” namely the process of discerning what truly comes from God and what arises from human projection.
Similarly, Fazlur Rahman emphasizes that the passage’s center of gravity is not the substitution of one victim for another, but the correction of the image of God. The dream does not establish a sacrificial order; it reveals a God who does not desire human blood.
In this perspective, the question “Isaac or Ishmael?” is not eliminated, but relativized. The child becomes a figure of believing consciousness rather than of a specific lineage.
“Classical Sunni doctrine maintains that God does not command injustice, and killing one’s child would be the ultimate injustice.”
Theology and the Limits of Violence
From the standpoint of theology and law, this interpretation is coherent.
Classical Sunni doctrine maintains that God does not command injustice, and killing one’s child would be the ultimate injustice. Theologians such as Al-Baqillani and Al-Juwayni used this episode to affirm that revelation cannot impose a duty contrary to divine justice.
The interruption of the act,
“We called out to him: O Abraham, you have fulfilled the vision” (37:104–105)
marks a crucial equilibrium. Abraham has fulfilled the intention; God intervenes to prevent a literal interpretation from resulting in an unjustifiable act.
Here again, the child is not merely an object of trial, but the locus through which the limits of religious violence are revealed.
“Through its silence, the Qur’an neutralizes a potential dispute between the descendants of Isaac and those of Ishmael. It transforms the child into a hermeneutical figure. Through him, the relationship between vision, interpretation, and violence is explored.”
A Son Beyond Identity
One may therefore propose the following synthesis.
For the Qur’anic text, the precise identity of the son is not theologically decisive. What matters is that he is a son, embodying both the continuity of lineage and the possibility of learning.
Through its silence, the Qur’an neutralizes a potential dispute between the descendants of Isaac and those of Ishmael. It transforms the child into a hermeneutical figure. Through him, the relationship between vision, interpretation, and violence is explored.
The later tradition, by favoring Ishmael, sought to articulate something else: the Arab rootedness of Islam, the centrality of Mecca, and the inscription of the Abrahamic drama within the ritual landscape of the ḥajj and Eid al-Adha.
But behind these constructions, the text preserves its own economy: a father, a son, a dream, and the gradual discovery of a God who cannot be confined within human representations of sacrifice.
Dr. Othman EL KACHTOUL is a diplomat and Islamologist with expertise spanning North Africa, the Middle East, and Sub-Saharan Africa. An Arabist and holder of the Agrégation, he holds a PhD in Islamology focused on the ideological use of eschatology, particularly within the Islamic State, and is the author of Rendez-vous à Dabiq. His work explores the intersections of theology, geopolitics, and intellectual history across the Abrahamic world.
