Miracles in Morocco

I used to not believe in miracles. Then again, there was a time when I didn’t believe in God. However, even when I publicly denounced my faith, I always wanted to find it again. I looked so hard for signs and miracles that would reignite my faith. Every time I looked, I was disappointed, and further denounced my faith.

But that’s the thing about miracles; you can’t wait for them to happen. They just do. And that’s what makes them miracles; they are things you need so much at the moment that only God knows you need, and you don’t realize you needed it until it’s there.

We arrived in Fes the morning of the 17th; some might say a day prime for miracles because it’s Mommy’s birthday after all (I bet you thought I was going to say because it’s St, Patty’s day; come on people I’m pretty damn Jewish). Anyways, we’re in Fes and our guide points out the Jewish quarter, saying one or two things about it and then moving on. I asked my professor if we were going to have a chance to stop there later on, but he didn’t seem very sure. I knew I’d find some way to come back, as disappointed as I was that it wasn’t included on our program. I mean aren’t we studying religious pluralism?

But that begs the question I’ve been constantly asking: does pluralism include Judaism? I honestly still don’t have an answer for that.

So we get back on the bus to drive to the Medina (a large fort and wall that surrounds Fes) of the city. All of a sudden the bus stops and our guide says we’re getting out. I was confused because he had said the Medina was a bit of a way’s away. We get off, and I notice it’s the Jewish quarter the guide had pointed out earlier.

“Why are we here?” I ask my professor, Dr. Thiam. He just says, “I just wanted to stop here, that’s all.”

So we continue walking, as I desperately look for someone wearing a kippa, someone carrying a siddur, or just anything to show me Jewish life is still there. Our guide pointed out the rabbi’s house and showed us how all the Jewish houses have balconies on the outside whereas Muslim houses have balconies on the inside. I overhear Dr. Thiam ask the guide “Is there a synagogue?” The guide replied that there was, but it cost money to get in. “It’s fine,” I thought, “at least I’ll get to see that there is one.” We arrived at the synagogue which had been there since the 17th century. Just seeing the sign above the door blew my mind. Then, Lamine pushed me inside.

“I don’t have any money,” I said.

“It’s ok, just go in,” he replied.

I smell. I smell the old book smell of the siddurs. I smell the wood the ark was made from. I smell the years old smells kept in the velvet drape that covers the ark. I then look and see the small women’s section, and the not much bigger men’s one. I see the pictures on the walls, showing all the other synagogues in Morocco. I see the bimah or small stand the rabbi shares with the cantor.

I hear. I hear Hebrew. I approach the only other group there, a group I later found out to be Israelis. I speak to them in our common language and find out that one of the women had family who lives in Aventura. What a small freaking world. I then hear my name. I think it’s Lamine, telling me we have to leave. I look up and it’s David, one of my classmates from JTS. I gasped. I didn’t know what to say. I hugged him and began to cry. I breathed in his presence, still in shock that he was here in front of me. I held on so tight, grasping this miracle.

I later found out that David and his friend had been running 15 minutes late to their tour of the synagogue, so I probably would have missed them if they had been on time. I would’ve also missed them entirely if our group hadn’t gone to the synagogue, because I also ran into David later at the Medina, something that had been delayed for us because of our stopping at the synagogue. This was a miracle thanks to God, but it also cannot go unnoticed the acting of Dr. Thiam and Lamine in this miracle. Their hearts were so open to me by letting us stop at this place of much importance to me and my people. They provided me an opportunity to breathe again. They enabled me to have my spirit boosted by seeing a place that reminded me of what I was doing here, of what I was doing abroad, away from the comfort of my community.

I‘m here to discover what I’m doing here. I still don’t quite know what I’m doing here, but as David and my dad told me, I probably will figure that out only after I leave. Right now I just need to take in all that I’m learning, realize it’s not always going to be fun and enjoyable; because that’s life. It’s not always rainbows and butterflies. And that’s ok. Because as beautiful as rainbows and butterflies are, they don’t make us stronger (as Dr. Thiam so frequently says) “at the end of the day.”