Force of habit is not the only factor accounting for low mosque attendance. The secular context of the state is at least equally important. According to the law, Azerbaijan is a secular country, where religion is separated from the state. Many regulations function in a way that makes fulfilling some religious duties quite tough. Friday, the day of the main Muslim public prayers, is a working day. Some of my informants from Baku admitted that they would like to participate in the mid-day Juma Prayer (juma in Arabic means Friday), but they have to be at work at that time. Praying is also surrounded by obstacles, as Islamic law puts the emphasis on formal aspects. Islamic prayer, highly regulated by jurisprudence, consists of several ritualistic words and formal body movements. Not all companies or workplaces have a special room for that purpose, and even if there is one, work obligations don’t always allow a person to pray at specific times.
Finally, care should be taken with terms characterizing religious practices. Devon et al. (2011) in the paper “Measuring Religiosity/ Spirituality in Diverse Religious Groups: A Consideration of Methods,” described the preliminary phase of his research among Christian, Jewish and Muslim students. That part of the project consisted in the evaluation of survey questions by experts and leaders of those three religions. One of the improvements that followed was the replacement of the word “church” by “synagogue” or “mosque” when Jews or Muslims were questioned. If a word used in the survey to describe religious activities was ambiguous or false for believers, research results would be unreliable.
Let us examine the surveys from Azerbaijan. In the CRRC’s study from 2007–2008 (Table 4.4) the question was asked in a very general way: “How often do you attend holy places?” The same version of the question, but most probably in different languages, was asked of Georgians and Armenians, who are mainly Christians. In the Azerbaijani context, “holy place” has at least two distinct meanings: a mosque or a pir (a shrine of a saint or a sacred place; an equivalent to mazar in Central Asia). How do respondents understand the question? Do people who visit pirs count such “pilgrimages” as being at a “holy place”? The tradition of paying special respect to sayyids (holy people, great religious scholars or relatives of the Imams) is still very popular among people in Central Asia and the Caucasus. This phenomenon of “folk” forms of Islam is typical of non-Arab countries, where Islamic religion mixed with local culture and earlier, often pagan religions and local social networks. Folk Islam, including pilgrimages to sayyids’ tombs, alternative healing practices, the use of magical objects, is nowadays quite widespread. Even in Baku, the cosmopolitan, vibrant capital city, the site of the Islamic University and the Azeri ulama, it is not uncommon to see some practices of this kind.
Fasting is more common in Azerbaijan than in Georgia or Armenia. But still more than a half of the Muslim majority society does not follow this requirement or does it rarely. The same with praying. Over 50% of Muslims say they pray only on special occasions, e.g., during religious holidays or funerals. Additionally, one fourth of the population does not pray at all (Table 4.4). Thus, there are more people who consider themselves attached to religion, say that religion is somehow important for them than people who are active in performing religious formal duties. Rituals are less common than faith, so on the basis of pure observation of religious attendance it is hard to describe religious revival in all aspects. Religiosity in the post-Soviet context is a dynamic phenomenon and subject to constant reinterpretations. It has many faces—beliefs, mosques attendance and performance of religious duties, but also less formal, focused around shrines and its traditions.
4.3Religiosity of the Shrines
Secularization is not a synonym to irreligiousness or atheism. Across the Caucasus and Central Asia, shrines are among the most visible signs of religiosity. For many centuries, in changing political contexts, they served as a primary site for spiritual experience. Veneration of saints’ tombs is a ritual that has been popular in various areas of the umma. It is practiced by Muslims of Morocco, Central and Southeast Asia, Indonesia and in many other places. In the Caucasus the tradition of worshipping sacred places used to be, we could say, quite ecumenical. It was not uncommon to find Muslims and Christians praying together at the tomb of a local saint, as it was quite natural to hear from Muslims that occasionally they visit Orthodox churches to pray.
Hafiza visits pirs from time to time. The practice of ziyārat to the tombs of great scholars, poets, saints or descendants of the Shia imams remains a highly popular practice in Azerbaijan. During communism, such public display of religiosity was officially discouraged, but people did not stop visiting those sanctuaries.
In scholarly literature, such forms of religious engagement are often referred to as “folk Islam,” or “popular Islam.” There is some sense in it; those terms convey some meaning of this type of religiosity—religiosity based on spiritual experience, centred around saints, shrines, legends, sometimes magic. But, for the people who visit pirs, mosques are not seen as a separate realm. Mosques are not classified as the venues of “official” or “orthodox” Islam. In the public perception, there is no such distinction. Praying at the tombs of the saints is as much a religious activity as praying at mosques. It’s more a question of family or local tradition and preferences. This differentiation is not valid even for the Islamic clerics in Azerbaijan, who accept the complex reality to some extent. They do confront some elements of “non-orthodox” Islam, such as the bloody rituals of ʿĀšūrāʾ. But in their vision of what is acceptable in Islam there is a place for ziyārat.
Hafiza admires the shrine of Mir Movsum Aga22 in Shuvalan on the outskirts of Baku, which she has already visited five times during the last two years. An impressive mausoleum has recently been built there, and it attracts hundreds of people every day. She explained her reasons for visiting that place:
When I am at the pir, close to the tomb of this saint man, I feel exceptionally well. It is a kind of blessing to my soul. But also my wishes come true. When you ask the saint for help, you should promise him something, a traditional or special reward, and then to come back.
People often bring money, usually a manat or a few. Hafiza is against this practice. She suspects that people who serve at the shrine take the money for themselves. That’s why last time she brought with her two kilograms of sweets. The gifts people leave at the shrine are supposed to be given to the poor. When she left the sweets in the pir, she was given a halvah, which has to be taken even though it is usually served at funerals.
The cult of saints is not officially sanctioned in Islam, but there is a tradition that assigns some people special status as the “friends of God.” Walī is a person who acquires special qualities, capacities and exceptional powers due to his closeness with God. He is thought to have a more intimate relationship with God and to be more in a position to ask Him for help. Even after the saint’s death, his extraordinary capabilities serve people. Baraka, God’s grace and blessings, can be bestowed on those who made a visit at a Walī’s tomb.
Mir Movsum Aga is a renowned miracle worker, probably the most prominent saint figure of the Absheron Peninsula. Everybody I asked for famous pirs pointed to his tomb. Hafiza’s aunt, who admires saint people very much, told me the popular legend about this man’s life. There is a legend of a young, mute boy at the age of six, who was brought to Mir Movsum to be cured. The saint ordered to fill a glass with water and passed it to the boy. “Drink it,” Mir Movsum said and when the child finished, the saint asked him: “What shall you say when you get a drink?” The boy answered, “Thank you,” and that were his first words. There is also another anecdote about a miracle from the Soviet times about a finance minister’s wife who was cured at the saint’s tomb after doctors in Moscow had been unable to help her (Kotecha, 2006).
Figure 4.1 The pir of Mir Movsum Aga I visited this pir accompanied by Julia, a woman of 35 from Baku. Sitting in a bus, which was taking us to the village of Shuvalan, Julia was telling me about Mir Movsum. She said
that one has to express his wish at the tomb. What kind of dreams can be realized by the saint? I asked. “Everybody has his private wishes: better health for himself or for relatives, more money, a child,” the woman answered. She is divorced and does not have a child, what in that society puts her under a very strong social pressure. As a single woman, she will never reach the same social status in her country as a mother does. The individualist model of an emancipated woman who develops her career, looks after herself and enjoys life with all opportunities it offers has not reached the Caucasus and Central Asia. The degree of interdependence among people is greater than in the West. Moreover, she does not work and has not own financial security. It was the third time that she was visiting this pir, believing it is the only way to change her life. Besides she has also been several times to Mir Movsum’s house (transformed into a place of prayer) and to the tomb of Imamzade in Ganja. She repeated the rule which I had heard from Hafiza—it is not enough just to ask a saint for something. One has to promise Mir Movsum that, after a dream has come true, the person would come back and give him what has been promised. “It can be 10 kg of sweets or 10–15 manats; one can give more or less depending on his means,” she explained. It was Thursday, a working day. Inside the pir, covered with mirrors, there were around 30 people walking in circles around the tomb of the saint and his relatives—sayyids (as Julia explained to me, not knowing how to translate this word into Russian). There was a continuous movement; people were entering and leaving the shrine. I was told that real crowds are on Sunday. Once inside a pir, one has to follow some unwritten rules. Everyone moves anti-clockwise round the tomb three times in a queue. When we reached the decorated bars surrounding the grave, Julia touched and kissed them. Then, turning her face towards the centre she was whispering prayers (in her own words, as she told me later), and expressing her wishes. Other people were also saying prayers in silence, slightly moving their lips. They touched the bars all the time and kissed it from time to time. The majority of “pilgrims” were women, but there were a few men as well.
In pirs, as in mosques, it is forbidden to walk in shoes. Women need to have their heads covered; there are headscarves hanging at the entrance. This kind of cover does not resemble a modern hijab, which is worn all the time when a woman is in a public place. Headscarves worn by women at the pir do not hide their hair, as hijab requires. In the corner of the room there is a box where people throw money. However, some people cast manats directly into the tomb when they walk round it. From the central place of the pir there is an entrance to a small mosque. On that day several woman were praying. Again, I noticed how different it was from what I experienced at other mosques. Two older women were sitting on the carpet and prayed. Their prayer did not resemble an “orthodox” namaz, which defines every movement of the body in detail. The women that were doing proper namaz did it in a Shia way (e. g., Shiites keep their arms down, whereas Sunnis cross them). At the wall there were small prayer rugs, headscarves, and small pebbles for the Shia way of performing namaz, called muhur. On the opposite site, there were a few copies of the Koran. Women who had finished praying approached the Holy Books and touched them with their hands and kissed them.
Mir Movsum Aga’s house also attracts people. Although no sign directs people to this place, which is hidden in the Baku Old City, almost everybody knows where it is. Women pilgrims predominate, but some men pray too, as I have witnessed. The majority of women wear headscarves in a fashion similar rather to that observed in Orthodox churches than to the hijab popular among “new Muslims.” In a small room, pilgrims move in a queue towards the saint’s portrait, where they pray for a while, slightly touching a face with both hands, as if they were cleaning it. To leave the room one has to stay directed towards Mir Movsum’s image and to put some money in a special box.
Similar practices I have witnessed in Ganja at a tomb of Imamzade, where a descendant of a Shia Imam is buried. Next to the tomb, in the same building there is a separate room—a kind of mosque. When I entered it, there were only women sitting on the carpet and praying. Their postures and gestures did not resemble official namaz positions. It was striking to me how much they were similar to the style of prayer I witnessed among Chechen Muslim women in Pankisi valley in Georgia gathered in a room that belonged to Sheikh Effendi, who taught Islam in that region several decades ago.
The Imamzade pir is regarded by Shia Muslims as one of the most important in Azerbaijan. Local people claim it to be the holiest Muslim place after Mecca and Medina. Huge crowds appear at the pir during Shiite celebrations of ʿĀšūrāʾ. According to my host, who guided me to this place, all surrounding streets are packed with cars on that particular day. People come from all over Azerbaijan and even from abroad and often sleep in tents.
The ritual aspects of Muslim religiosity, exemplified by ziyārat, are mixed with spiritual beliefs. For Hafiza and Sughra, who represent the “cultural Muslims,” Islamic religion means, first of all, faith in God and life after death. Even though their Islamic knowledge is rather basic, they are aware of some religious concepts, mostly of the Shia tradition. In their everyday life the most visible is the emphasis they place on morality. A lot of moral rules, guiding behavior and relations to people occupying various social positions have religious justification. As I mentioned before, there is a common mix-up of ethnic and religious norms and values. Strict social segregation of girls and boys is explained in religious terms (The girls said, “in a Muslim society it is haram for girls to meet with boys,” “in our religion girls must be decent and modest”). Those Azerbaijani girls who lived in Europe for some time stated that the largest difference between Christians and Muslims was seen in gender relations. “We were surprised to see the freedom of Christian girls who used to meet with many boys before marriage. Our religion does not allow us this,” one of the students concluded. As far as marriage is concerned, they cannot imagine having a non-Muslim husband. When I inquired into the reason for that, they explained that it is not only the religious requirement, but also their personal wish.
Figure 4.2 The tomb of Imamzade in Ganja This concern for religion as a criterion in choosing a wife or a husband is frequently observed in Muslim families, even if their religiosity is confined to occasional religious practices. I happened to take part in a general discussion on religious topics in a Muslim house. The hosts, self-identified Muslims, were at first convincing me that I should visit pir in Nardaran and read the Koran. As a Muslim holiday Kurban Bayram (the Feast of Sacrifice) was approaching, they mentioned the story and rituals related to that event. My first impression of being among knowledgeable and practicing people was soon shattered when, before dinner, the father raised a glass of vodka and proposed a toast: “Let us drink in the name of Allah for our meeting.” He also confessed that he eats sausages from time to time. His wife, however, explained that it is not common to eat pork, because Islam forbids us this for the reason of health. But when the father raised an issue of the children’s marriage, he suddenly became a strict Muslim: “My daughter can marry a foreigner, I will not oppose, but he must first become a Muslim and accept our customs.”
Why do so many people adhere to the secular model of Islam? Tradition is certainly the main criterion of authority of this way of Islamic practice. Even though the experience of pluralism, or “perceived pluralism,” is common to an increasing part of the Azerbaijani society, socialization into the religious worldview received in a family maintains its force. The prevalence of a secular outlook in the society also accounts for its popularity. Another reason for keeping an attachment to parents’ secular understanding of religion is the widespread public image of new religiosity as too radical and too discordant with traditional ethnic culture. Still for other people new religious traditions are nonproblematic, but unsuitable for their lifestyles. This became clear in a discussion I held with two secular families. For them, people practicing Islam in everyday life are doing a good thing. When I asked them about namaz, one of the women answe
red that they simply do not have time for praying. Islamic ritual requirements, such as five pillars, are seen as too demanding and time-consuming, thus omitting them is not considered a sin. Alcohol can also be justified, but only for men, who refrain from drinking during the Muslim fast (known in Azerbaijan as Orujlug) and Muḥarram (the mourning period of the Shiites). Further, there are families with both practicing and non-practicing members. In such cases people often decide themselves which way to follow, but basically a tolerant attitude towards religious beliefs prevails.
Eclecticism
The widespread lack of knowledge about Islamic doctrines accounts for a certain degree of eclecticism in adhering to a given variant of religion. Thus, in empirical social reality, divisions between Islamic traditions are often blurred; they interact and overlap. This tendency is more common among secular Muslims than among those who drift toward orthodoxy. The eclectic system of beliefs and practices is in fact typical of religious landscapes all over the former Soviet state (Borowik, 2002). This fact must also be taken into consideration while dealing with choices; a practice of merging elements of two traditions (a kind of tinkering) enables believers to refrain from making a choice and, thus, lessens the impact of competition on the religious market.
There is an important aspect of bricolage in the Azerbaijani version. The heterodox, syncretic form of Islam developed for many decades in isolation from Islamic scholarly centres. Its mainstream status enables an average person to easily accommodate various ideas, if only they did not contradict existing ones. There are two basic forms of such bricolage: inter-religious and intra-religious. In the first case, as it will be exemplified below, people tend to enrich their basic religious tradition with some elements from other religions. In Azerbaijan, such a mix often refers to Islam, in its more heterodox secular version, and to Christianity in its Russian Orthodox model.
Religious Revival and Secularism in Post-Soviet Azerbaijan Page 15