Marakech, Morocco- Days 5 & 6

We woke up after an exciting night in Telouet to a spectacular rainbow,

and left early Friday morning to begin our winding accent then decent from the mountains so we could make it to Marakech (the end is pronounced “sh”) in time for Shabbat. When we arrived in Marakech in the early afternoon we visited the Jewish Quarter of the old city, which contains a shul built in 1492 that continues to have morning services.

At one point during our visit Raphy, our tour guide who single handedly resurrected the history of the Jews of Morocco and even built a Moroccan Jewish Museum, told us something I found very touching and worth sharing. Raphy said, “I didn’t do my work for the Jews, but for the Muslims. When the Muslim kids grow up and see the negative media concerning the Jews, they will know more about the Jews than just what the TV says. They will understand.”

After our visit to the synagogue we checked into the hotel and got ready for our Shabbat in Marakech, Morocco, with a Jewish community of only 250 people. The number used to be about 120 times as big at 31,000 Jews before 1948.

We spent Shabbat at a different synagogue than the one we visited early that day. This synagogue contained an Ark that was miraculously saved by the current Rabbi’s father. He took this beautiful ark from an old synagogue that burnt down not too long after he moved it. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures, but it was large and handcrafted by two brothers (I forgot what year it was from).

A few things really caught my attention during our Shabbat in Marakech. On Friday night the “lecha dodi” was one of my favorite parts. The stark difference between the familiarity of the words and the foreign tune is one of the most basic yet moving parts of learning about and experiencing Judaism from all over the world. The tune, which sounded very similar to the call to prayer, is something Moroccan Jews hear five times a day, so it’s not surprising that the Jews incorporated it into their prayer. The call to prayer is pretty self explanatory, but I may or may not elaborate on it more in the next post, I guess we'll see how much time I have/how I'm feeling.

One other interesting part of the Friday night service was that “Yigdal” was sung to the tune of HaTikvah, the Israeli national anthem. What I found so fascinating was that they live in a country of roughly 5,000 Jews with dwindling communities, and their connection to the land of Israel was so apparent during “Yigdal.” When we just look at them and hear them pray we feel virtually no connection, or it may be better to say distant, from them, but we are able to connect with these North Africans whom we otherwise may have never interacted with or thought of.

Lastly, on Shabbat morning it was so cool to hear the Rabbi give his speech in Arabic, French, and Hebrew. He was just jumping between the three languages surprisingly fluidly. How often do you get a chance to hear that?

Now to add a little color to this blog, here are a couple more pictures from Marakech.