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VII. Saints and Holiness
One word that is heard often in Morocco is baraka. It essentially means ”blessing” but is used in a broader sense to denote a mystical, miraculous force that is seen as a blessing from God. In English it can be replaced with the word ”holiness ”.
It is said that every person possesses a certain amount of baraka, which is, however, usually too insignificant to be taken notice of. Only those who possess baraka in an exceptional degree are eligible to be called a [síyĭd], [ṣâleḥ] or [wäli], or in other words a saint. The prophet Muhammed possessed such an enormous degree of it that it was enough for all his descendants in the male line of his daughter Fāṭimah, the so-called [šúrfa] or shereefs, who are innumerable. It stands to reason that the relationship with the prophet is mostly of the apocryphal sort. By simply moving to another district and there pretending to be one of Fāṭimah’s descendants, a person may gain the title of shereef.
We have seen that the oldest shereef family in Morocco consists of [Mûläi Idrīs]’s descendants; but hardly less venerated are the so-called [ʿAlawîin], whose ancestor came from [Yanboʿ] in Arabia and settled down near [Tafilelt]. A member of this family ascended the throne in Morocco in 1648 and thus became the founder of the present dynasty. Although it is not only in his role as the head of the [ʿAlawi] shereefs that the sultan is considered to be a holy person. The sultanship has its own baraka as the sultan is God’s representative on Earth. It is upon his holiness that the welfare of the whole country depends. If it is strong and unpolluted, the fields provide abundant crops, the women give birth to good children and the Christians will leave the country alone. The misfortunes that plagued Morocco during the rule of [Mûläi ʿAbdlʿăzîz] resulted from the sultan’s baraka having been sullied through his ties with Christians; but in his successor, [Mûläi Ḥâfid̮], the baraka returned to its former strength, which could be seen the very same summer that he ascended the throne, as the sardine fishery along the coast was more profitable than it had been for a long time.
The shereefs are not the only ones who have inherited holiness. This is also the case with the so-called [mrábṭīn], who are the descendants of a [mrâbăṭ] – a person who, in his lifetime, in one way or another, earned so much baraka that he had become a saint. In the mountain ranges of northern Morocco, there are families of [măʿámmrīn], whose forefathers had become saints by being ”filled” ([măʿámmrīn]) with the baraka of others. There are various ways that a person may be filled with baraka, for example by a saint spitting in the mouth of one of his friends. But only very holy people can allow themselves to do a thing of this kind without themselves losing their baraka. [Sîdi ʿAbdsslam] had been forbidden by his mother to spit into people’s mouths when he had been asked to do so.
The transference of baraka from one person to another does not always take place willingly. When a pretender to the throne has succeeded in replacing the ruling sultan and made himself his successor, this is because he has somehow come into possession of the sultan’s baraka. The [Wazzan shereefs] are said to indulge in the wicked habit of robbing other shereefs of their holiness. If a shereef visits the town of Wazzan and enjoys the hospitality of its governor, he is careful not to leave behind even the smallest crumb of food he has been served and meticulously hides the bones remaining from meat dishes so that his host cannot, with the help of the remains of the meal, imbibe his baraka; and for a similar reason, a shereef is unwilling to shake hands with a Wazzan shereef. Shereefs are equally cautious of strangers. When a stranger meets a shereef and cranes his head forward to kiss his hand, the shereef hastily pulls back his hand – not because of modesty as I first thought, but due to fear that the stranger through some magic trick shall rob him of his holiness.
Baraka can also be earned through pious deeds and devotional exercises. Along the Moroccan coast, as we have seen, lie a number of white-washed sepulchral chapels for [mujahédīn], hero saints who were killed in fights against the Christians and on that account came to be regarded as saints. Others have become saints through incessant praying, fasting or giving of alms. Some say that a person can become a saint by praying at forty daybreaks successively, particularly if it takes place on the sea-shore. Pilgrims derive baraka from pilgrimages to the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, scribes from learning the Koran off by heart and schoolboys from studying the Koran, small children from the innocence of childhood and old men from wisdom and grey hair. Simpletons and madmen qualify as saints, whose wits dwell with God in Heaven while their bodies wander about the earth. They can afford to do almost anything. During my first stay in Fez there was a mad woman who used to walk about in a state of perfect nudity; and when I, after an interval of nearly twelve years, revisited the city, she was still alive and continued her old habit – which will serve as encouragement to air-bath enthusiasts.
The greatest saints can be found among the dead. Their holiness has followed them to their graves, which are in fact identified with the dead saints; [síyĭd] means both saint and shrine. Morocco is teeming with shrines of various kinds. A noted saint often has a [qóbba] on his grave – a square, white-washed building with a horseshoe-shaped entrance and either a dome (photograph, on pages 195–196) or a pointed roof consisting of four triangular, sharply sloping planes (photograph, on page 198). Sometimes there is a mosque, with or without a minaret, attached to the qóbba (photograph, on page 199). It is highly plausible, as Goldziher has suggested, that the qóbba has developed from the tent that the old Arabs would pitch over the grave of an important man. But the building atop the shrine can also be a ”room” [(bīts])] with a flat roof (photograph, see page 200), and in many cases the grave is marked only with an enclosure ([ḥauš]) consisting of four walls without a roof (photograph, on pages 201–203), or quite simply a stone circle (photograph, on pages 204–205). Many saints do not wish to have roofs over their graves, which they have clearly indicated by making the roof collapse when one has been built. They wish to see the sky and God, they wish the rain to fall on their graves and for birds to come and sing to them. But a ḥauš is not always a sign that a saint lies buried underneath it: it often marks a place where a holy man has worshipped or rested during a journey. Sometimes it has been deemed sufficient to build a cairn upon such a site or even on a saint’s grave (photograph, on pages 206–207). The traveller constantly comes upon cairns along the roadside (photograph, on pages 208–210). They serve different purposes. A cairn at the top of a hill marks the first point from which a distant shrine becomes visible to the wayfarer; and the wanderer does not neglect to place a stone on the pile, thereby enveloping himself in the saint’s goodwill. It must be remembered however, that in many or most cases the so-called shrines are not graves at all; as mentioned earlier, many of Morocco’s saints have never been historical figures. The veneration of saints in Morocco is essentially a personified form of nature worship. Even today, especially in the Berber areas of southern Morocco, there are sacred trees and springs which have eluded this personification process, in other words which are not associated with a dead saint.
Everything, be it alive or inanimate, which belongs to a holy place is considered to be sacred. But in addition to plants and animals that are deemed sacred on such grounds, there are entire species thought to possess baraka. This is the case with the fruit-bearing date palms and olive trees, bay trees and myrtles, certain aromatic herbs and above all wheat and barley. The horse is a sacred animal; it is like a shereef; and sheep also have much baraka. The cow is not looked upon as a holy animal, but its milk is extremely sacred and its dung is a powerful means of purification. The swallow, nightingale, wild dove and stork are more or less sacred; the bee is such to a high degree. And some claim that there is also a morsel of baraka in a certain kind of vermin, white in colour, which thrives so well in the clothes of the faithful that without it, if we may believe a Moroccan proverb, no man can be a true Moslem.
In its highest form, holiness manifests in the ability to perform miracles. Several saints are able to transport themselves and others in an instant to a distant land or to fly through the air, often in the form of a dove. [Sîdi ʿAbdsslam] once wrote that he wished he were so holy that he could fly to me in London – and he weighed more than one hundred kilogrammes. Other saints know what is happening in distant places or are able to foresee future events. A holy man sticks his pen into the ground and a spring bursts forth into the daylight. Or he spits on the ground and a flame rises towards the sky. Or he makes the blind sighted and cures the sick. Not far from Tangier lives a holy man who oversees [Sîdi Heddi]’s shrine; his specialty consists of satisfying the hunger of two or three hundred people with a single plate of kŭsksu [kuskus]. Once when [Sîdi l-Ḥadíd] wished to cross the river [Tsahaddarts] near [Azîla] and the ferrymen asked him to wait a while, he walked over the water as though it were dry land.
Miracles are not only performed by living saints, but even more often by those already buried in their graves. The baraka of a saint is not lessened, but rather increased, by his death – or so-called death as, strictly speaking, a saint never dies but only sleeps. If a Moroccan is ill or wishes for a good wife or a son or some other blessing, he goes to a shrine and calls to the saint for help. He takes there a child who cannot learn to walk, an ox which does not wish to plough or a camel that bites. And when the water dries up in the wells and the crops are languishing from drought, the village folk head in procession to a shrine to pray for rain. But woe to the poor soul who incurs a saint’s wrath by killing an animal or felling a tree or cutting a branch near his grave! Some saints who are buried on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean are especially inclined to wreck passing ships arriving from the lands of the Christians.
The most common sign of l-baraka is that it is a supernatural force of good fortune, operating entirely mechanically upon whoever or whatever comes into contact with it. A small twig from a holy tree, which one sticks in one’s bag when going to the market means that trade will be successful. The bark of such a tree or the juice from its leaves are used as medicine. To bathe in a sacred spring or to drink its water is good for both the sick and the healthy. A pinch of soil from a sacred place, carried in a small bag fastened with a string around the neck, protects people and animals against evil. Even the dust in the garb of the pilgrim returning from Mecca brings a blessing with it. One is happy to allow a pilgrim or a shereef to ride one’s horse, as it benefits the horse. When a shereef is entertained as a guest, he must always leave a little food on the plate, so that the hosts, by consuming the leftovers, may have the benefit of his baraka. The water in which a saint has washed his hands is wholesome to drink; and to kiss his hand or clothing brings luck. After visiting a shrine, one must not stay away overnight, but hurry home while the saint’s [baraka] still remains on the clothing. But no matter how beneficial holiness may be in general to those who come into contact with it, under certain circumstances it may act as a poison. The dose can be too strong. Those who visit [Sîdi Ḥămäd u ʿIsa]’s grave in southern Morocco are treated by the shrine’s care-taker to figs and dates, but the visitor must settle for eating very little of them, as a larger quantity of the sacred fruit would cause his stomach to burst. I heard tell of another Berber saint at whose annual feast – the more prominent saints have recurring annual feasts – the pilgrims’ horses for the same reason were all provided with just a single spoonful of barley from the saint’s larder. And we have already seen how dangerous it is for an unclean individual to come into contact with anything sacred.
But holiness is not just a danger to others but is also itself exposed to dangers. It is by nature extremely vulnerable to external influences. That is a widespread idea which has played a very important role in the history of religion. As is known, for example the Asian religions are overflowing with commandments that impose ritual cleanness as a rule for all who perform rites. Islam requires that such persons shall have clean clothes and a clean body; a devotional exercise must be preceded by washing, although where there is no water, the purification ceremony can be performed with sand. A holy being has every reason to keep every unclean individual at a distance, as contact with such an individual would sully its holiness. Add to this the fact that a rite that is performed by an unclean person lacks the holiness or supernatural powers required for it to have the desired effect. Muhammed said that cleanliness is half of faith and the key to prayer. The Moroccan believes that a scribe need fear evil spirits only when he is unclean; for in general he can protect himself against them by reciting passages of the Koran, but the holy words lose their power if uttered by an unclean person. Among many peoples, the belief that sexual impurity contaminates the sacred has led to religious celibacy. This is not the case in Morocco. But people say that if a scribe has lived an entirely chaste life, he becomes so holy that he can fly.
Holiness can be injured by excremental as well as sexual impurity. It can also be polluted by consumed food. This is why many magical or curative practices, in order to be efficacious, must be performed in the morning on a fasted stomach. It is considered meritorious to fast on the day before the great annual sacrificial feast, [l-ʿid l-kbīr], and in some parts of Morocco it is also held proper that the sacrificial animal, which must be clean and without blemish, should fast on that day, or at least the following morning, until some barley or flour is placed in its mouth immediately before it is slaughtered. This is believed to have a purifying effect; while a little salt drives away evil spirits. It must be mentioned in passing that the same belief in the polluting effect of food on holiness forms the basis for the Catholic practice of fasting before taking communion. The breath is also regarded as one of the body’s impurities. One must avoid blowing on milk; and if a person writing an amulet breathes on the writing, it is no longer good for anything.
Baraka may also be spoiled by contact with the ground and its impurities. Before setting foot in a holy place, a person must remove his shoes, and the place where he prays must be clean; praying is best done on a clean rug. An amulet loses its miraculous power if it falls on the ground, at least if one does not instantly purify it by placing it in a pile of wheat or barley; but if anybody has trampled upon it or stepped over it, its holiness is irremediably lost. There are certain springs whose water is a remedy for rabies, but only under the condition that the cup the water is fetched in and stored in does not touch the ground.
Holiness is also particularly vulnerable to harm from evil spirits, the evil eye and all kinds of magical tricks. It is said that jinn haunt the pious but leave the ungodly alone, just like the pig; and the lavish agricultural ceremonies are, for the most part, intended to protect the harvest from jinn and people’s evil eye. Strangely enough, sacredness must in many cases also beware of contact with other sacred things. A saying goes that ”baraka must not meet baraka”. Among some Berbers, it is forbidden to take fresh milk into a mosque. If two flocks of sheep belonging to different persons meet or pass each other in the yard, a silver bracelet must be put between them, to protect their lives. Like unclean women, holy schoolboys must not enter the subterranean room where the threshed grain is stored; for if they were to do so, contact with the sacredness of the grain would deprive them of the ability to learn the Koran. It will cause the sea to grow rough if one shouts from the shore the profession of the faith: ”There is no god but God, and Muhammed is the prophet of God.” And the sea is a saint, called [Sîdi Muḥammed l-Bhar], or, as is also claimed, forty saints are hidden in its depths. Whoever finds himself on board a boat or a ship can only say the prayers required by the duty of his religion, but must not otherwise recite any Koran verses for fear of an accident happening to the vessel. The sultan must never travel by sea; the antipathy between the sea and the sultan is so strong that once when [Mûläi l-Ḥasan] visited Tangier, the sea rolled back at his arrival. It is likely that the custom that states that the sultan, when outdoors in the sunshine, must always be shaded by a large parasol, is associated with the belief that sunlight, which also has baraka, can have an injurious effect on the sultan’s own baraka. Amulets containing Koran verses lose, in general, their holiness if the sun is allowed to shine on the writing; and a cup with water that cures rabies must not be exposed to sunlight. But the provision that baraka must not come into contact with baraka hardly applies to all cases. We must not expect too much consistency in beliefs that have to do with the supernatural. This is made very clear in the understanding of the effect of fire on baraka.
In some cases, fire has an injurious effect on holiness. For the ink to dry a written amulet must not be held over a fire. Amulets against illness are often burned and the smoke is inhaled by the patient, but this must not be done with such that contain verses of the Koran. If a fire is made amongst a flock of sheep, the wool will be bad. To burn wool will make the wool expensive. If milk boils over or spills into the fire, the cow’s udder will dry up. But on the other hand, in some cases, fire does not have power over a holy person or a holy object. [Sîdi Ḥmed ben Yúsĕf]’s descendants can lick red-hot iron without burning their tongues, and their beards are non-flammable. The members of [Sîdi Ráḥḥal]’s large family can hold a burning candle in the mouth or under the arm, and if they fill their mouths with boiling water, they can make it as cool as rainwater when they spit it out. I have seen this trick performed in my own house; and Tousi, who is also a [Raḥḥâli], showed me how he could touch his arm with burning tow without singeing his skin. When the renowned saint [Sîdi Mä l- ʿAinīn] visited [Mogador] a few years ago (he was still alive when I was there), it happened that a man who had just before bought a piece of meat at the market and put it into his bag, met the saint in the street and went with him to his house to pray together with him. When the man came home, the meat was placed in a pot, but it would not cook; even though it was kept over the fire the whole night, the next morning it was just as raw as when it was bought. When the man told the saint about this, he answered: ”Fire has no power over meat that people carry with them while they are praying in my company.” Persons who have caught doves at a certain shrine near [Marráksh] have found them impossible to cook. In [Dukkâla], I heard tell that a stick that had been taken from the forest where the great saint [Mûläi ʿAbdsslam] has his shrine would not catch fire, even if the tent with everything else that it contains were to be reduced to ash; one who has made a pilgrimage to [Mûläi ʿAbdsslam]’s shrine is even said to have thereby insured his bones against hell-fire. Forest fires have many times ravaged the area around some [mujahédīns]’ graves that can be found a half day’s journey south of Tangier, but the trees that surround the grave have never been touched by the fire.
It is hardly surprising that holiness is often its own enemy. As we have seen, it carries within it a seed of evil, and is, besides, extremely vulnerable to external influences. The difference between holiness and uncleanness is not so great as it can seem to be. Uncleanness that has a polluting or destructive effect on holiness is not identical to what we consider to be impurity, instead it is itself, like holiness, something mystical, supernatural – a magical force. That is why in some cases it is difficult or impossible to draw a sharp distinction between them. Just as holiness, although chiefly beneficial, can at times be injurious, so uncleanness may, in certain circumstances, be a cause of good. In some areas in the vicinity of Fez it is the custom, if the kitchen garden is not thriving, to ask a Jew – who is the personification of impurity – to come and touch the plants. Murderers, who are equally unclean individuals, are considered to be able to cure certain illnesses. Pork in very small doses is used as a medicine, and drinking three spoonfuls of human urine is a cure for jaundice. If milk does not leave as much butter as usual and is therefore assumed to be cursed, the churn is exposed to the smoke of burning dog excrements – the most unclean substance that a Moslem can think of.
There is also a certain connection between baraka and jnūn – the jinn. Holy persons, animals and objects are often haunted by these spirits. People avoid visiting secluded shrines after nightfall, when the jinn are at large. Many saints have jinn as their obedient servants. And in the jinn-saint’s person, the boundary between saint and jinn is almost obliterated. Just like humans, the jinn also have their saints. And all saints obey the same ruler, the great [Mûläi ʿAbdlqâder], whose shrine is in Bagdad.