THE BUILDER AUGUST 1926
The Druse of Baruk

By BRO. JOHN W. SHUMAN, California

THE conflict between the French and the Druse of the Lebanon makes
the present article by Dr. Shurnan a timely one. The Druse religion
has been a subject of speculation and inquiry to a number of
Masonic authors and a good deal has been written about this curious
sect with a desire to draw some parallel or even to establish an
identity of origin for their mysterious religious rites and the
usages of the Craft. Few students of note, however, would agree
that any real case has been made out for this. Bro. Shuman writes
of them entirely as they appear to a sympathetic visitor.

THE Druse are a group of people numbering about 100,000 and live in
the Lebanon Mountains of Syria. They are an off-shoot of
Mohammedanism, although this is not recognized by the Moslems. They
intermarry with the Moslems, but it is not lawful for them to marry
with the Christians. They have preserved a religious and also a
tribal independence against all comers.

Their chief doctrine is the "Oneness With God". The Druse's
religion--if Such it may be called--is secret. Therefore, very
little is commonly known of their faith, for their doctrines are
secretly transmitted. Their "worship" or "meeting" is on some high
mountain top at midnight on Fridays.

That by way of introduction. Nevertheless, one is not able to tell
a Christian Lebanese (an inhabitant of the Lebanon Mountains) from
a Druse excepting for the head-dress. The Druse and the Moslem
usually wears a white cloth about the head; the Christian, a black
one.

In the illustration here given can be seen the headdress of the
Druse male, the fez or tarbush with a white rag wrapped around it,
also the white veil like headdress of the women. Our host is
sitting between his mother and sister and this is the first time
these ladies have shown their faces for a picture. The veil is
becoming thinner in Syria and Turkey and is not worn as religiously
as it used to be. Mrs. Shuman is in the center of the group. Second
from her left is a Syrian "Druse"--an American returned for a
bride--he secured her and later I examined her for the American
Consular passport to America.

On the steamship Bragga, sailing with us to Syria in September of
1922, there were a large number of Syrians going back for a visit,
among whom was a most likable young man, perhaps thirty years of
age, Sam Salem, from West Virginia, returning for a visit with his
aged parents in Baruk. In the hold along with our automobile was
his super-six Hudson. He had left his wife, "a sweet little Baptist
girl", at home. He had not been back for ten years and was quite
sure that this would be the last chance to see his aged father and
mother alive--the Oriental is a great respecter of his parents,
especially his mother. He invited us to spend a week-end at his
parents' home--we accepted with thanks. In the course of landing,
getting settled etc., the weeks soon flew by Mr. Salem had, in the
mean time, called for tea with some of "his cousins" and pressed
his invitation, but it was late in December before we could avail
ourselves of the opportunity.

The beautiful drive up the Lebanon Mountains or the route to
Damascus was by this time familiar to us, but the turn-off to Baruk
was new and interesting. Sam had a "driver". No Oriental soils his
hands with toil; that is, in his own country, if he can help it.
Drivers (chauffeurs) are not hard to get out there; good ones are--
Sam's was not a good one.

It was raining, as this was the rainy season, which will account
for poor photos. The narrow Baruk road was slippery, and the first
camel train we met, with saddle bags heavily loaded, took the
inside of the road as they always do, which caused us to slide off
the road, the left rear wheel hung suspended with a sheer drop of
eight or ten feet and a good chance for the auto and its occupants
to roll half a mile. Manpower put the machine back on the road and
Sam drove the rest of the way. The camel is an animal made up of
"spare parts" and you never can tell which way he is going to step
or what he is going to step on.

We arrived in time for the national Syrian dinner of many courses.
I will not tire you to name them; suffice it to say that it went
from soup to nuts and back again--with a dash of Arrak (the
spirituous gin of Syria) thrown in. The Druse male when he gets
religion (Din) does not drink, swear or use tobacco. In that
respect the Druse males are quite like Americans--Catholics or
Protestants, Lutherans or Presbyterians--perfectly human, not at
all divine. Folks are much alike the world over.

After dining we took a much-needed walk and one of the first sights
that greeted our eyes was a big fat sheep being fed mulberry leaves
by an old lady. Did I say fed? I meant crammed. The sheep was being
fattened to sell for the Feast of Ramadan (the great Moslem
religious feast that corresponds to the Christian Easter). It was
tied so it couldn't walk the fat off, and stuffed several times a
day with fattening food by the hand of the feeder. This sheep (like
all others) seemed to have no sense at all, but swallowed as fast
as it could until no mor fodder could be gotten into it--and there
it stood on it four little legs, panting as if it would burst.
Practice makes perfect, and these people know how to fatten the
sheep gradually so that it is about to die from fatty heart, liver,
etc., when the feast is due. In other countries, notably France,
geese are fed in the same manner. 

We then visited a mill. It was exactly like the one the words were
written; about in the Bible: "Two were grinding at the mill; one
was taken, the other left." The same old stream that was used in
biblical days, the same old stone house (or at least the same
stones), the same old huge mill-wheel turning the mill stones at
the same slow gait, grinding the same old slow stream of wheat from
the same old hopper - the miller (the one of the two that "was
left") was old and wrinkled and covered with flour--he padded about
in it, feet bare, with shovel in hand, seemingly unaware of the
presence of visitors.

Wheat is the main staple of Syria (in the Bible it is called corn,
as it still is in England). Bread, the "staff of life", will be
mentioned a little later.

We looked the mill stream over for fish, but it did not contain
any. Fishing in Asia Minor is a lost art, even the East
Mediterranean Sea has few edible fish in it.

At two o'clock a "clinic" by request was held in the ladies' part
of the house (my wife accompany). It did not seem possible that so
much remediable disease could exist in a place so near a big
medical center as the city of Beirut. It is only a comparatively
short time, though, about forty years, since the first medical
missionary began practice over there; prior to that "the
proselyting type" was the only missionary. A number of folks with
cataracts, skin diseases, etc., were examined, who were instructed
"how to get well", referring most of them to our hospital clinics
in Beirut. The immediate value turned out was only about thirty
cents' worth, but they were most grateful and piled the auto full
of leban (cottage cheese), chickens, kubs (bread), etc. Such bread
is not met anywhere but in the East. It is made from wheat, and it
is baked in large and thin circular sheets in outdoor ovens; it is
tough and pliable and looks like a piece of tanned hide. It is used
for knife, fork and spoon.

As we were leaving a man came, leading two struggling young white
and black goats, saying, "Effendi, these are yours !" Imagine our
chagrin--we had made the mistake of "admiring" them! If you don't
want a thing in Syria, don't admire it, for it is the equivalent of
asking for it.

An interesting incident in Syria is a wedding. While we were with
the Druse we saw the procession of one, which could be heard for a
long time before it could be seen--the singing, bells a-ringing
(but not much bigger than sleigh bells), laughing and shouting--
coming around a bend of the road. It was impossible to distinguish
the bride; all the women's faces were covered. We learned that the
groom was waiting at his parents' house, where the ceremony was to
take place; also that the bride is never very hilarious about a
wedding. From the motley appearance of the mob, it seemed that the
whole mountainside had been "invited". We shook hands with a young
fellow who rode his pony so like a Westerner that he was hailed
with "Hey, there, lad, what part of the West are you from?" He
answered, "From Washington state !"

Sam's folks were quite anxious that he should remain in Syria, for
he was their only son and heir to the farm. They wanted us to use
our influence upon him to such an end. And just to be affable I
tried it, but did not get to first base, for Sam answered, "Doctor,
bring my little wife to this ? No, not for all the land in the
Lebanon Mountains ! The U. S. A. for me always!"

Of course, his folks being Druse, did not consider him correctly
married. People are funny about customs--just the other day a
father had his daughter married to the same man the third time here
in Los Angeles. The first time they had her married by a Justice of
the Peace, the second, by a Methodist minister--the husband's
church--and the third time by a Presbyterian minister--the church
of the father-inlaw.

In America the Lebanons are popularly supposed to be inhabited by
wild, lawless tribes always at war, and we are often told of
massacres by newspaper correspondents. These are generally, like
the report of Mark Twain's death, much exaggerated. We are told of
feuds like those existing in the past among the people of our own
Kentucky hills. The "massacres" reported from the Lebanon are
mostly between the Druse and Christian sects. Few outsiders know
what they are about. But as the Druse does not permit marrying with
the Christian, and most trouble starts over women, it is quite
reasonable to believe that the heart, at times, runs away with the
head, and an "illegal" love-match kindles the powder that sends a
bullet flying which later is written up as a "massacre".

At any rate, our Sunday at Baruk with the Druse was a happy,
peaceful one, one long to be remembered. We found the Druse honest,
industrious, kind, hospitable, and minding their own business. As
for patients. in or out of the hospital, the Druse made good and
appreciative ones. As for any that had turned to Christianity, in
Syria we met none.
