AS THE crescent moon signals the beginning of Ramadhan, Muslims across Mindanao once again find themselves in familiar territory — not only of fasting, prayer, and reflection, but also of questions about when the holy month truly begins.
This year, as in many before it, a wave of confusion spread through communities when announcements from Saudi Arabia came earlier than those from local Muslim authorities. Some families began fasting a day ahead, following Makkah’s declaration. Others waited patiently for confirmation from the National Commission on Muslim Filipinos (NCMF) and their local muftis.
The issue is not new, but it remains important to understand. Islam follows the Hijri or lunar calendar, which is based on the moon’s phases. Each Islamic month begins with the sighting of the hilal, the sliver of a new crescent visible just after sunset. Because the lunar cycle is about 29.5 days, the Islamic calendar drifts roughly ten days earlier each year in comparison to the solar or Gregorian calendar.
This method of marking time is rooted in the Qur’an itself, where believers are instructed to start fasting upon seeing the new moon of Ramadhan. Moonsighting, then, is an act of worship — not just astronomy. Yet the moon’s visibility varies by region. The crescent visible in Saudi Arabia might not be seen in Davao or Cotabato on the same night due to differences in geography, weather, and time zones.
Here lies the heart of the debate: Should the whole Muslim world follow one moonsighting, or should each community rely on its own? The answer depends on Islamic jurisprudence. The four major Sunni madhabs—Hanafi, Maliki, Shafi’i, and Hanbali—agree on the duty of moonsighting but differ in the scope of its authority.
The Shafi’i school, which influences much of Southeast Asia, teaches that moonsighting should be local (ikhtilaf al-matali). This means that a sighting in Saudi Arabia or Indonesia does not automatically start the month for Muslims in the Philippines. Other scholars, mainly from Hanafi or Hanbali traditions, support ittihad al-matali, or “unity of horizons,” arguing that one sighting anywhere in the world should suffice for all Muslims.
Both interpretations have merit. One highlights geographical accuracy and community coordination; the other celebrates unity of faith across borders. But for Muslims in Mindanao, where local structures of religious authority exist, it is wiser and more practical to follow one’s own Mufti or regional Ulama Council.
Doing so strengthens local unity and avoids unnecessary division. When we fast, pray, and celebrate Eid together, it reflects not only our obedience to faith but also our respect for community order. A single day’s difference may seem small, but harmony in observance carries a much deeper meaning—especially among families and neighbors who share the same call to prayer.
The mix-up at the start of Ramadhan this year reminds us that unity in Islam isn’t always about uniformity. The essence of faith lies not in agreeing on every detail, but in acting with sincerity and respect. Our scholars in Mindanao have the wisdom and responsibility to guide us according to our context. Trusting their leadership nurtures local harmony and keeps us connected to the core of our tradition.
In the end, the beauty of Ramadhan does not depend on when it begins, but on how we live through it — fasting with discipline, praying with humility, and giving with compassion. Whether the crescent is first seen in Makkah or Mindanao, what matters most is that it leads us to the same light: the light of faith, community, and peace.