Among the many moments that shaped the early Islamic community, the Bayʿat al-Riḍwān — the Pledge of Loyalty at Ḥudaybiyyah — stands out as one of the strongest covenants ever made in the shadow of prophecy. It wasn’t just an agreement. It was an oath made in the name of God — a commitment never to be broken, a bond sealed with faith and willingness to die.

Ibn ʿUmar was there that day. And he would recount it with pride: “We were on our way to Makkah with the Prophet ﷺ. Our only intention was ʿUmrah — a peaceful pilgrimage. But the Meccans misunderstood us. They denied us entry. The companions were scattered under the trees of Ḥudaybiyyah, resting in the shade, when my father ʿUmar noticed something.”

He turned to his son and asked:“Abdullah! What’s going on over there with the Prophet? Why are people gathering around him like that?”

Ibn ʿUmar went to see. The Prophet ﷺ was taking a pledge — a solemn promise of loyalty and readiness to stand by him, even if it meant death. Ibn ʿUmar didn’t wait. He joined in without hesitation.

It was during this time that ʿUthmān had been sent as an emissary to negotiate with the Quraysh. But word came — or so they thought — that ʿUthmān had been killed in Makkah. Tension thickened. The Prophet ﷺ called the companions to pledge themselves anew, in readiness for confrontation.

Ibn ʿUmar later said, with evident pride:“I pledged my hand to the Prophet ﷺ before my father did.”

Some historians even report that the very first person to place his hand in that pledge was none other than Abdullah ibn ʿUmar.

As for ʿUthmān, who was absent, the Prophet ﷺ took his own right hand and placed it in his left — symbolically pledging on behalf of ʿUthmān.

Only twenty days after returning from Ḥudaybiyyah, the Muslims found themselves preparing for another mission — the expedition to Khaybar. The reason was urgent: the Jewish tribes had begun to rally secretly for war against Madinah. Silence in the face of such a threat would only invite disaster.

Revelation descended: God has promised you much spoils that you will capture (Surah al-Fath: 20)

The Prophet ﷺ prepared for battle. Ibn ʿUmar joined the army. Nearly all who had pledged at Ḥudaybiyyah were part of this campaign — except for Jābir ibn ʿAbdillah.

The march toward Khaybar shook the hearts of the enemy. Fear spread in advance of the Muslims’ arrival. Victory came swiftly, and the spoils were abundant. Ibn ʿUmar would later say:“Until the conquest of Khaybar, we had never eaten our fill of dates.”

But if Khaybar brought satisfaction, the next battle brought a memory that never faded — Muʾtah.

Located on the borders of Greater Syria, Muʾtah was the site of a historic encounter between the Muslims and the might of Rome. The Prophet ﷺ had sent an envoy, Ḥārith ibn ʿUmayr al-Azdī, with a letter to the Byzantine governor. But before he reached his destination, he was intercepted by Sharḥabīl ibn ʿAmr al-Ghassānī, a Roman official — and brutally killed.

To murder an ambassador was a violation of every diplomatic code, even among pagan tribes. The Prophet ﷺ took this transgression seriously and dispatched a force of 3,000 men — including Ibn ʿUmar.

The enemy numbered in the hundreds of thousands — Roman troops, backed by allied Arab tribes.

Fear spread like wind through the Muslim ranks. But the Prophet ﷺ had already chosen the commanders: first Zayd ibn Ḥārithah. If he fell, then Jaʿfar ibn Abī Ṭālib. If Jaʿfar fell, then Abdullah ibn Rawāḥah.

The moment of battle came. The sea of enemy soldiers stood before the modest Muslim army. Some hearts wavered. It was then that Abdullah ibn Rawāḥah stood before them and addressed the troops: “O people! Why do you hesitate? You are not marching for land, nor for spoils. You are marching for martyrdom. If it is death you fear — know that death will find you regardless. Our heritage is not in numbers or might, but in truth. This is the religion for which we fight. Choose now: either victory, or martyrdom!”

The men roared back as one: “What Ibn Rawāḥah has said is the truth!”

The battle erupted. Zayd fell, sword in hand.

Jaʿfar took the banner. When his right arm was severed, he gripped it with his left. That too was cut off. He held the flag with the stumps of his arms until he fell — a lion even in death.

Then came Ibn Rawāḥah — and he too met the same fate.

Khalid ibn al-Walīd was appointed the next commander. With brilliant tactics, he managed a fierce counter-strategy. Against impossible odds, the Muslims survived — it was not defeat, but a staggering moral victory.

Ibn ʿUmar recalled: “When Jaʿfar disappeared from the field, we searched among the fallen. We found him — his body bore ninety-nine wounds, all from the front. None from the back. That was the kind of man he was.”

The sight of Jaʿfar became an eternal image in Ibn ʿUmar’s heart. Yet amid the victory, one thorn remained: Ibn ʿUmar had left the battlefield early. A small group, including him, had returned to Madinah before the campaign concluded.

He himself recounted: “We turned back. But soon, a heavy shame fell upon us. Had we fled the battlefield? Had we drawn upon ourselves God’s wrath? What had we done?”

They resolved to go to the Prophet ﷺ before dawn and beg forgiveness. They arrived just before Fajr prayer.

The Prophet ﷺ noticed their uneasy presence.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Those who fled the battlefield,” they answered in sorrow.

But the Prophet ﷺ, who knew the soul of battle and the soul of men, said: “Never! You are not those who fled — you are those who turned back to join the fight again. I am with you. I am with every contingent of this Ummah.”

That moment, Ibn ʿUmar would say, was the greatest lesson of his life. It was when he truly saw the breadth of the Prophet’s ﷺ mercy — and the depth of his understanding of the human heart.