Pagan shadows over the crescent moon

As many traditional Christians observe Lent—fasting in biblical repentance and preparation for Easter—billions of Muslims have begun their own fast during Ramadan, the holiest month in Islam. For millions among them, this season connects to the sacred duty of traveling to Mecca for the Hajj, a pilgrimage consisting of prescribed rituals: circling the cubic black shrine known as the Ka’ba and kissing a black stone to gain forgiveness of sins. Both Ramadan fasting and the Hajj are among the five pillars of Islam—duties that Muslims believe Allah has prescribed for every Muslim.

While Christians fast in various ways, always following biblical calls to seek the face of God in restoration, forgiveness, and repentance, Muslims follow rituals that trace their roots to pagan worship in pre-Islamic Arabia—practices that Muhammad and his followers later adopted and refashioned with an Islamic veneer as they designed their religion. This contrast calls believers to examine how pagan customs persist beneath a monotheistic surface, standing in sharp opposition to the Bible’s unambiguous warnings against idolatry in any form (Deuteronomy 12:2–4).

Islam is a works-based religious system. Because everything depends on human effort and mandatory duties to earn Allah’s favor, Islamic rituals are non-negotiable—viewed as divinely ordained paths not to assured salvation, but to a hoped-for rescue from hellfire, with no guarantee of final destiny. While Muslims sincerely believe these rituals come from Allah himself, even a brief critical examination reveals that many derive directly from the pagan Arabian culture surrounding Muhammad in seventh-century Arabia. These rituals, in reality, represent a continuation of Arabian paganism—creatively transformed and repackaged under Islamic identity. When a supposedly divine religion adopts pagan rites, it cannot replicate them exactly, or its borrowed nature would be far too transparent.

The 30-day fast may echo ancient religious practices found across many traditions, but many scholars rightly trace Ramadan’s origins to the lunar calendar and the moon cults of northern Arabia and Mesopotamia, where pagan devotees honored the gods through nearly identical observances. In order to appeal to Christians and Jews, however, Islamic tradition overlays these practices with the figure of Abraham—a connection that cannot be historically demonstrated or verified by any external evidence. It is a deliberate strategy: By anchoring itself to a patriarch revered by Jews and Christians, Islam claims shared origins—even as many Muslim texts themselves cast doubt on any firm link between Muhammad, Ishmael, and Abraham.

Then, during the fast, Muslims who want to fulfill the Hajj begin with the kissing of the Black Stone inside the Ka’ba. Picture millions rushing to kiss a “sacred” stone in order to obtain forgiveness of sin. Virtually no Muslim regards this as pagan in origin, yet to any honest observer, the connection is unmistakable. The stone’s own Islamic story makes matters worse. According to some Muslim traditions, it was originally white and descended from heaven, but turned black from the accumulated sins of humanity. Some Muslims believe that the black stone will intercede for them in the last day, as Muhammad reportedly declared, “Allah will raise [the black stone] on the Day of Resurrection with two eyes by which it sees and a tongue that it speaks with, testifying to whoever touched it in truth.” Few Muslims may pause to question how strained that claim is—heaven does not drop rocks, and sin does not alter the physical composition of stones—setting aside how stones may have eyes.

Still more questionable rituals follow. After kissing the stone, pilgrims hurry between two hills, expending great effort to fulfill a mandatory act of the Hajj. Similarly, Muslims believe Allah throws heaven’s gates open wide on a particular night in the final ten days of Ramadan—the Night of Power, Laylat al-Qadr—yet no one knows its precise date. Tradition even holds that Muhammad was told the exact night by Allah, then forgot. Apparently, no one thought to ask whether Muhammad might simply have inquired again.

Taken together, these rituals and their speculative traditions reveal something the world should observe. Islam is based on falsehoods. Muslims are commanded to follow Islamic practices, and the Quran itself warns them not to ask questions about things they do not understand, lest the answers trouble them. The system thus ensnares its followers on two sides: It demands they observe rituals rooted in paganism while promising divine reward, and when the origins of those rituals begin to surface, it forbids the very inquiry that might expose them.

Islam’s pagan borrowings should sharpen the Christian instinct for discernment—the call of 1 Thessalonians 5:21–22 to test all things and hold fast to what is good. They should prompt us to ask seriously how such origins affect the spiritual validity of Islamic practices, particularly during seasons such as Ramadan when many well-meaning believers pursue evangelism, intercession, and outreach. Christ declared plainly that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life—and that declaration leaves no room for silence.

When we see billions bound by rituals and uncertain works, we are compelled to proclaim the Good News: not of striving and guesswork, but of a divine Son of God who gave His life for the certain salvation of all who trust in Him.