Turning Off the Lights in Jewish Fes
By Dania Alvarado
We started our day with a sudden change of plans. Initially, we were scheduled to meet with a member of the local Jewish community named Shalom, who was going to guide us through Fes’s active synagogue. Instead, Professor Rabinovitch informed us that they had recently learned of his passing. While describing Shalom’s character, Professor Rabinovitch emphasized how he referred to his responsibility as “turning the lights off.” Shalom proudly embraced this role, yet he remained concerned about who would eventually continue the work of preserving Jewish heritage and memory in Fes. During our early morning lecture, we were told that there are concerns that the Jewish community in Fes may disappear within the next decade if current demographic trends continue.
In Morocco, many of the remaining Jewish communities in cities such as Fes and Marrakech have gradually become concentrated in Casablanca. Professor Rabinovitch explained that Latin America reflects a similar phenomenon of diminishing Jewish populations, which can often be attributed to chain migration. This process operates through momentum, especially within minority communities: once one group migrates and establishes social, economic, and communal networks elsewhere, it becomes easier for others to follow. A similar parallel was drawn to the economic migration of Jewish communities in Boston. When migrants create infrastructure, institutions, and opportunities in a new location, remaining behind can become increasingly difficult, especially when better economic or social prospects exist elsewhere. This led us to ask an important question: how did the momentum for Jewish emigration from Morocco begin? Professor Rabinovitch traced part of this shift back to the instability following the fall of the Marinid dynasty in 1465, which affected Jewish life in Fes and other parts of Morocco. He then outlined a series of later changes over the following centuries, ultimately arriving at the acceleration of Jewish migration in the twentieth century, particularly after the establishment of the State of Israel and Morocco’s independence in 1956.
After Professor Rabinovitch’s lecture, we drove to the Jewish cemetery to meet our tour guide, Azzedine. He began by giving us historical context on the Jewish population in Fes. We learned that Fes was once home to one of the most important Jewish communities in the Muslim world. The Mellah of Fes was established in 1438 and is often considered one of the earliest Jewish quarters in Morocco. A Mellah refers to a designated walled Jewish quarter in a Moroccan city, sometimes compared to the European ghetto that later emerged in Venice. The term “Mellah” is often linked to the Arabic word for “salt,” reflecting early commercial associations in the area. We also learned that Jews lived in Moroccan cities long before the establishment of Mellahs, and that urban coexistence between Jewish and Muslim communities was part of medieval Moroccan society, despite shifting boundaries over time. Morocco was home to two main groups of Sephardic Jews: the Toshavim and the Megorashim—the latter referring to Jews who fled to Morocco after the Alhambra Decree.
Then we visited the Israelite Cemetery of Fes. Upon entering the cemetery, we were met with scenic views and long rows of thousands of white tombs. Aazddine explained that the cemetery is the resting place of thousands of individuals, including many revered rabbis and saintly figures, such as Solica Hatchouel and Rabbi Abner Israel HaSarafati. It was fascinating to learn about the significance of sainthood within the Jewish communities of Morocco, where many revered figures are venerated in local tradition. This is reflected in the broader culture of saint veneration in Morocco, where Muslim and Jewish devotional practices have, in some cases, overlapped, particularly in regional pilgrimage traditions and the annual saint festivals in Fes.
We then sat down and listened to Azzedine tell us an intriguing story of the famous Rabbi Yehuda ben Atar, also known as El Kabir. He was a rabbi, but also a goldsmith. The sultan at the time was looking for a very skilled goldsmith to make jewelry for his daughter, who was getting married. The sultan asked for the rabbi and explained his expectations, but the rabbi was troubled because he could not ask the sultan for a down payment, yet he did not have the money to buy the necessary materials. Upon returning to the synagogue, members of his community loaned him money to complete his task. Once the jewels were completed, he met with the sultan’s advisor, who was a corrupt man. The advisor pocketed the sultan’s payment and falsely informed the sultan that he had provided the money but was not given the jewels in return. Hearing this news, soldiers were sent to retrieve the rabbi, and he was taken to a cage full of hungry lions. El Kabir began reciting prayers aloud, and miraculously, the hungry lions gathered around him to listen to his prayers. Seeing this extraordinary event, the sultan brought back the blessed holy man and apologized. He appointed him as his new advisor, while the corrupt one was fed to the lions; thus, the lion symbol is inscribed on El Kabir’s tomb. This site is a major pilgrimage destination, with many visitors coming to pray for salvation and healing.
After this fascinating story, we proceeded to walk to the famous Ibn Danan Synagogue. This synagogue was constructed in the 17th century and was restored in 1999 as part of a major conservation effort. Prayer is meant to be separated by gender, with men praying on the main floor and women occupying the upper mezzanine. Interestingly, the Torah scrolls preserved within are written on animal parchment, reflecting traditional scribal practice and careful preservation. At the synagogue, there was also a mikveh, a ritual bath typically filled with collected natural rainwater. It is used for ritual immersion, most commonly by women following menstruation, after childbirth, and prior to marriage, though it may also be used in other religious contexts.
For the last activity of the day, we walked a couple of blocks to the Royal Palace of Fes. Much of the palace visible today dates to the Alaouite dynasty, although the site itself has older historical roots extending back to earlier Marinid-era foundations in the 13th century. This brought us full circle to the morning’s lecture, connecting different layers of Moroccan history and the enduring presence of Jewish heritage within it. Although there is concern that the Jewish community in Fes may continue to decline, its cultural and historical legacy remains deeply embedded in Moroccan history and continues to be seen and felt today.