Open Doors, Closed Doors
Eadbhard McGowan
A pale moon hovers over the town with the face of an old scrooge, covered by ragged clouds, like the untidy hanging of a grey-frayed curtain.
Sabbath has ended, has trickled out like a wet cloth hanging over the line.
Amram Toledano’s mother had lit the blue-white candles. The blessings were said over the wine and the spices and the words of the prayers faded away. It was the end of a quiet day, ushering in the new week – a week that waits outside the door, patient to be let in, or to be rejected when there is anxiety and fear. To keep the door shut, to prevent being seen, to not provoke the shaking of fists. On market day, last Friday, his father had been beaten by some drunken peasants.
The father still had the voice of the cantor ringing in his ears, facing East and pleading, crying, begging, imploring God to look after His people.
It seems that God holds His hands over His ears and covers His face. He can no longer bear to hear the groaning and moaning, the sighs, the pleas for mercy, the cry of souls. He has closed his gigantic door – this door, which might open again on Judgement Day.
Illustration by Nir Stern
Amram’s father was sitting in a dark corner of the room with a bandage around his head. He said nothing, brooding endlessly, looking at the door as if he were awaiting the coming of the Messiah. Memories come together, float to the surface and form scrolls. In the afterglow of the dying day lay some old photos on the mantelpiece, representing black and white images of forgotten times.
Dogs were barking outside, sniffing at the door.
If doors could talk, what kind of story would they tell? Doors are like human beings. There are many types of doors, as many as human personalities. Some are closed, some are open, others are ajar. Uncertainty grips the handle of the door. From some doors, the paint is flaking off, while others shine in bright, glossy colours. Some are plain, others are covered with fancy fittings. Yet all have the same penchant for opening and closing, coming and going, reticence and openness.
Now and then, the Messiah enters through an insignificant and forgotten porch of the town, gazing sadly at his people. He disappears, for his time has not yet come.
Amram emerged from the house and onto the gloomy end of his side-street. Some windows were brightly lit, some exuded a faint illumination, others were dark.
He rushed to the house where Shoshana Cordovero lived. Her father was jealously watching over her – more out of fear for her than paternal dominance. The door of her house was a strong, reinforced oak door.
Amram loved Shoshana, Shoshana loved Amram. When he thought of Shoshana, he imagined the smell of roses. The Hebrew name Shoshana means rose. They try to meet on Saturday nights when the town is relatively calm and quiet.
Their environment is too narrow, too suffocating, too hostile, without hope.
They wrote letters to one another. The letters were glowing. Letters that are written in the night change the glint of the eye that receives and reads it.
They decided to leave the country to find open doors, doors that were closed for them in this town.
Cats were in attendance on the windowsills, motionless, observing.
He stood in front of the dark house. The small alleyways were deserted – a clammy, misty night, obscuring shadows, dampening the sound of his steps, dimming the faintest light.
He imagined that all whom he knew in the street were in bed, sleeping. Maybe they would start to somnambulate through the alleyways, remembering nothing in the morning.
It was after midnight. A crow croaked. Strange to think that a bird might suddenly awaken or perhaps had not slept at all.
He stood under her window and tried to make himself heard, singing in a low voice a song in their Ladino language:
Avre tu puerta cerrada,
qu´en tu balcón luz no hay
el amor a ti te vela,
partemos Roza, partemos Roza de aqui.
Open your closed door,
because there is no light on your balcony.
Love may protect you,
let us go, Rosa, let us go, Rosa, away from here.
The window opened and soon after, the door. They embraced and kissed each other passionately. The night transformed. The sky put on a golden scarf and the clouds gave way. Thousands of stars were glittering.
The hushed whispers and humming of a multitude of angels and celestial beings resounded in the universe saying “Holy, holy, holy” with every beating of their wings. In the rhythm of adoration, a million doors opened and closed, opened and closed, opened and closed…
Listen to the full Ladino song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CRLijDTKW9U&list=RDszYhwb8mq0g&index=15
Source of lyrics and translation: http://hebrewsongs.com/?song=avretu