Every Friday, in hundreds of mosques scattered across the Atlas Mountains, the Rif, Souss, Massa, and the East, the preacher stands on the pulpit and begins his sermon with “Praise be to God who…” in eloquent Modern Standard Arabic. The worshippers listen attentively, but many of them, especially the elderly, women, and children in remote villages, leave having understood half the meaning or less.
This is not a deficiency in faith, but a deficiency in communication.
The Moroccan constitution is clear and unequivocal. Article 5 explicitly states that Amazigh is an official language of the state alongside Arabic. The organic law No. 26.16 obliges the state to take all necessary measures to integrate it into various areas of public life, including the religious domain.
Despite this, the unified Friday sermons are still delivered only in Arabic in most mosques across the kingdom, even in areas where Amazigh is the mother and sole language for thousands of citizens.
This reality was forcefully raised by the deputy Khadija Arouhal, a member of the Progressive Socialist Team, in a written question addressed to the Minister of Endowments and Islamic Affairs. She did not call for the abolition of Arabic, but rather for the integration of Amazigh alongside it in the areas where it is spoken, so that preaching and guidance reach the hearts of the worshippers as they reach their ears.
The question is not merely technical; it is a question of linguistic justice and the effectiveness of religious discourse. What is the use of an eloquent sermon if those to whom it is addressed do not understand it? How can we talk about “the purposes of Sharia” and “faith-based education” while a large part of the audience listens to it as if it were in a foreign language?
Amazigh is not a transient local dialect. It is a constitutional official language, a language of rich civilization, and a daily language for millions of Moroccans. Its use in sermons does not diminish the sanctity of the sermon; rather, it enhances it. Islam came for all people and did not come to impose a single language at the expense of understanding the religion. In many Islamic countries, sermons are translated or given in local languages while maintaining the Quranic and Hadith texts in Arabic. Why then does Morocco remain an exception in this regard?
Deputy Arouhal did not stop at diagnosis but directly questioned the ministry:
- What are the reasons preventing the adoption of Amazigh in delivering or explaining Friday sermons in the areas where it is spoken?
- What measures does the ministry intend to take?
- And what is the specific timeline for activating this constitutional initiative in the religious field?
These questions open a wide door for a calm and responsible national discussion. The matter is not about “politicizing religion,” as some try to portray it, but rather about activating the constitution and ensuring the citizen’s right to understand his religion in his mother tongue.
Language is not just a communication tool; it is a vessel of identity and belonging. When an Amazigh citizen hears the Friday sermon in his language, he does not just hear words, but feels that the state and the religious institution are addressing him directly, not an archetypal image of him. This feeling of belonging is the strongest guarantee of national unity, not the opposite.
The ball is now in the court of the Ministry of Endowments and Islamic Affairs. Will there be clear and specific actionable steps with timeframes? Or will the topic remain shelved as has happened with other issues?
