Ibn ʿUmar lived with an almost surgical mindfulness—so meticulous that even the great Tāʾūs once said, “I’ve never seen anyone more cautious in life than him.”
He emulated the Prophet ﷺ in the finest of details, steering far from anything that might resemble the forbidden. Once, while traveling, he heard the faint notes of a shepherd’s flute playing in the distance. Immediately, he steered his mount off the road, thrust his fingers deep into his ears, and asked Nāfiʿ,
“Can you still hear it?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
Only after traveling some distance and confirming he could no longer hear it did Ibn ʿUmar remove his fingers and return to the road.
“I once saw the Messenger of Allah do this,” he said.
He would never sit in a place where someone else had just been made to stand. That, he feared, would fall into the realm of oppression—and such was his scrupulousness.
He once made an agreement with a young slave: the boy could earn his freedom through staggered payments. When the slave brought the first portion, Ibn ʿUmar asked, “Where did you get this money?”
“I earned some by working, and begged for the rest,” replied the boy. Ibn ʿUmar’s face changed. “So you come to me with scraps of people’s charity to buy your freedom from me? I want no part in that. I set you free for the sake of Allah—take the money too and go, joyfully.”
During Ibn al-Zubayr’s rule, there were thefts of dates. Some of these stolen dates were turned into syrup and sold. The mother of one of the buyers sought Ibn ʿUmar’s opinion. His verdict was unwavering: “Spill it all. Let none of it remain.”
He refused to enter public bathhouses. When asked why, he said, “They are newly invented luxuries—I do not like them. Besides, there’s always a risk of exposing one’s body.”
He added, “I don’t wish to see another’s nakedness, nor have mine seen.”
Ibn ʿUmar’s generosity knew no hesitation. He was never touched by miserliness. He lived as if he were a tree of unending goodness—its branches shading the poor.
Once, during a single gathering, he distributed 22,000 dirhams and walked away empty-handed.
Nāfiʿ, his close companion, once said: “Before his death, Ibn ʿUmar had freed nearly one thousand slaves.”
Once, when he received 20,000 dinars, he gave it all away by sunset. When a man in need came after that, Ibn ʿUmar borrowed money just to help him. Muʿāwiyah once sent him 100,000. Not a single coin remained with him by year’s end.
Ayyūb ibn Wāʾil recalled: “I arrived in Madinah and heard that Muʿāwiyah had sent 4,000 dinars to Ibn ʿUmar. Another person had sent another 4,000. A third sent 2,000 and some blankets. But when I went to the market, I saw Ibn ʿUmar trying to buy camel fodder on credit. I was stunned. Could the reports have been false?”
He went to Ibn ʿUmar’s house and asked a servant girl about it. She replied: “Everything you heard is true. All of it arrived safely. But he gave it all away last night. That is how he lives. No one can change him.”
His contentment and detachment were not because of poverty. It wasn’t frugality. It was fear of the Hereafter. To him, this world was merely a traveler’s inn. Even his house reflected this. Bare walls, simple utensils, only what was essential. Maymūn ibn Mihrān once said after visiting, “Even my Turkish servant owns better furnishings.”
When Muʿāwiyah once offered financial security for his family, Ibn ʿUmar said: “Do you think I would sell my religion for gold and silver? I want to leave this world with clean hands, just as I came into it.”
He even avoided visiting Bayt al-Maqdis lest Muʿāwiyah impose royal hospitality on him. He refused the caliphate—again and again. He even rejected a judgeship.
It was Caliph ʿUthmān who first offered him the post of qāḍī. Ibn ʿUmar replied: “I will not preside over the disputes of people.”
ʿUthmān pressed him: “Are you disobeying my command?”
“No,” said Ibn ʿUmar. “But I’ve heard of three kinds of judges.
One is ignorant—he misjudges and enters Hell.
One knows the truth but judges wrongly—he too ends up in Hell.
The third is just—he judges rightly and is safe. But he earns no reward either. So why would I step into something so dangerous with no reward?”
ʿUthmān retorted: “But your father used to judge!”
Ibn ʿUmar responded: “Yes, but when my father was unsure, he would ask the Prophet ﷺ. And if the Prophet didn’t know, he could ask Jibrīl. But who will I ask?”
His reasons for refusing posts of power were never lacking. They were always grounded in deep humility, fear, and a burning desire for salvation.
