Even in the matter of fasting, Ibn ʿUmar carved out a path distinct from others. He was among those who observed voluntary fasts regularly, following the example of his beloved father, ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb, who fasted consistently until the end of his life. Yet, during travel, Ibn ʿUmar would not fast. He insisted on availing the concessions Allah had granted to the traveler, and he wanted his companions to do the same.
When setting out on journeys, he would impose a few gentle conditions on his companions:
“No one shall fast while traveling without our consent.”
“Don’t bring camels that feed on refuse.”
“Don’t argue with us about leftovers.”
“And if there’s meat to be cooked, let me be the one to slaughter the goat.”
During the Farewell Pilgrimage, Ibn ʿUmar stood with the Prophet ﷺ at ʿArafah. And every Hajj after that, he made it a point to stand in the same spot. He never missed a single Hajj. Nor did he ever neglect ʿUmrah during the month of Rajab. He was one of the foremost authorities in the rituals of Hajj. He learned every detail directly from the Prophet ﷺ and carried it exactly as it was. This precision made him a reference for others.
Even Marwān ibn al-Ḥakam once told al-Ḥajjāj: “You’re not to interfere with Ibn ʿUmar when it comes to Hajj.”
Indeed, the hadith literature is rich with detailed descriptions of Ibn ʿUmar’s Hajj practices. He recited the Talbiyah just as the Prophet ﷺ had done, adding whatever was appropriate, but never altering the core. In matters of Hajj, he was a beacon.
But Ibn ʿUmar was not merely a scholar—he was also a reformer, a moral compass for his society. He insisted on upright behavior. He raised his voice against wrongs. One day, he saw people gambling with dice. He walked up and smashed the board. Another time, a popular dice game called “Fourteen” was being played. He snatched the equipment and smashed it, even though the players were close acquaintances.
He wasn’t afraid to rebuke even tyrants like al-Ḥajjāj ibn Yūsuf.
There’s a story of him once striking one of his sons—an act of moral rectitude. Once, when two people were speaking loudly in the masjid, Ibn ʿUmar picked up a pebble and tossed it gently at them, whispering: “Be silent.”
His son ʿAbdullāh once recalled: “I was a boy, sitting with my legs spread out in a relaxed, careless manner. My father came and scolded me: ‘Don’t sit like that!’ But then I saw that he too was sitting the same way. Sensing my confusion, he added: ‘I sit this way only because my legs are hurting.’”
On one journey, he came upon an Iraqi man collapsed on the road, surrounded by onlookers.
“What’s wrong with him?” Ibn ʿUmar asked.
They said: “He faints when he hears Qurʾān recited.”
Ibn ʿUmar quietly remarked: “We fear Allah too, but we do not collapse to the ground.”
When he met Jābir ibn Zayd, he said: “O Jābir, you are known in Baṣrah as a scholar of legal judgment. But never give a fatwa except based on the Book of Allah or the Sunnah of His Messenger.”
He disapproved of the pompous dress and ostentatious display of some pilgrims. When he saw Hajjis riding luxurious mounts and adorned in lavish garments, he would say: “There are fewer pilgrims now, and more tourists.”
Once, he saw a man in ragged clothes sitting quietly on the roadside.
“That man,” said Ibn ʿUmar, “is better than all these Hajjis.”
He always honored humility. And never hesitated to correct—whether it was his son, a fellow pilgrim, or a prince. Because for Ibn ʿUmar, truth was not negotiable.
