I attended Rabata’s retreat for the first time, and I returned home transformed into a different version of myself. The experience reminded me profoundly of my journey to Hajj, both in its challenges and its revelations.
Like Hajj, this retreat demanded sacrifice. Being away from my young children for five days, forgoing the comfort of familiar sleep and the solace of home, every aspect of my routine was tested. Yet in this testing, I found something sacred.
Just as pilgrims gather in Mecca from every corner of the earth fi sabilillah (for the sake of Allah), these women had come together from around the world with the same pure intention.
We were a tapestry of different faces, different stories, different struggles and like the pilgrims circling the Kabah, you couldn’t tell from our outer appearances the depths of our faith or the heights of our spiritual journeys.
The retreat revealed to me what I had learned in the Holy Lands: iman (faith) is beautifully, mysteriously hidden.
Sometimes the sister who appeared most “perfect” on the outside carried the heaviest burdens within her heart. And sometimes the ones you least expected held the most extraordinary devotion—like one sister with a 914-day streak of reading Surat al-Baqara daily, or the sister, barely nineteen, who had memorized both Surat al-Kahf and Baqara on what she casually called “a whim.” Or the one who, despite sharing that she’s seen her share of struggles, greets everyone with radiant joy—her smile itself an act of worship, a testament to faith that perseveres.
These encounters taught me that iman truly lives in the heart, in intentions that only Allah can see.
The most beautiful acts of worship are often the quiet ones—the ones no one else knows about, the private struggles and victories that happen between a soul and its Creator.
Just as Hajj strips away all worldly distinctions and reminds us that we stand equal before Allah, this retreat revealed that faith cannot be measured by appearances or assumptions.
In both sacred spaces, I learned that the journey inward is just as important as the journey we take with our feet. Whether walking the plains of ‘Arafat or sitting in a circle of sisters sharing their hearts, we are reminded that true devotion is a hidden treasure, known fully only to the One who placed it there.
Returning home from both experiences, I carried with me that same sacred feeling—a purity born from days immersed in ‘ibada (worship), in connection with Allah and community. Just as the pilgrim returns from Hajj cleansed of past sins, I felt transformed by this retreat.
There’s something profound that happens when you step away from the distractions of daily life and dedicate yourself wholly to spiritual growth. The countless prayers, the dhikr, the moments of reflection, the shared worship—all of it purifies the heart in ways that linger long after you return to familiar surroundings.
I am not the same person who left five days ago, just as I was not the same person who returned from the Holy Lands. These transformations remind me that Allah, in His mercy, provides us with opportunities for renewal, for spiritual rebirth, whether through the once-in-a-lifetime journey of Hajj or through the blessed gathering of His faithful servants seeking His pleasure together.
Dr. Fariha Rub, Student, Ribaat Academic Institute