Seeing Stars: New Doors to Convivencia

In the Summer of 2001 I went on a bicycle, bus, and train trip to Spain, Greece, and Hungary to see first hand where my people came from. My main interest was Jewish sites, especially the few remaining sinagogas from pre-expulsion times. In Sevilla I stayed in the Juderia (the old Jewish quarter). I also visited the Alcazar, an Islamic palace begun at the start of Spainís "Golden Age," a time of relative peace amongst the Muslims, Jews, and Christians. I was stunned by the complexity and totality of the ornamentation. Every surface in this sublime building is covered with intricate geometric patterns, color, and painstaking craftsmanship. Toothed arches, glazed tiles, painted stucco, Islamic columns and capitals, water, and fabulous interlaced designs delight and dazzle the visitor.

  
  In the Alcazar I saw stars. Six pointed and eight pointed stars cover the walls, windows, doors, and ceilings. I sat down dazed, my mouth hanging open in wonder. Each frame of vision offered enough information for a lifetime. My heart raced at the splendor. I had seen some of these same patterns carved into the stuccoed walls in the sinagogas in Toledo and Cordoba.
As I sat on a bench in the Patio de Las Doncellas, I began to see the Star of David everywhere. It was as if I had broken a secret code and was seeing something hidden. What was the Jewish star doing in an Islamic palace? Was it a secret statement about our kinship? Or were the six pointed stars merely geometric elements without religious symbolism? To this day I donít know the answer. But in my mind, I was witnessing convivencia, the Spanish word for coexistence. During the tenth and eleventh centuries, under Arab/Muslim rule in Spain there was a great flowering of culture. Muslims and Jews respected each other as "People of the Book," studying and building together, and developing astronomy, medicine, and literature at the highest levels. It was a time when Jews wrote poetry in Arabic.  
  I came upon a massive door, meticulously and elegantly crafted. Applied textured moldings surrounding dozens of painted and richly carved wooden panels in the shape of six and eight pointed stars and chevrons made a complex pattern. I was thinking about Nahalat Shalomís sanctuary. Our congregation has always been a place for the marginalized, always stood for the dignity and unity of all peoples. We had been having regular Sephardic Shabbats for years. Weíve had several peace walks between the synagogue and the Islamic Center of New Mexico. We studied with our friends from the mosque for a year, prayed together and shared meals. I knew I would replicate the design of these ancient Spanish doors.

I came home with a photograph of the door I had seen in the Alcazar. I moved my wood shop from downtown Albuquerque to one of the buildings on the campus of Nahalat Shalom. I spent a lot of time in the Sanctuary seeing stars, imagining the richness of the Islamic designs in this synagogue occupying an old Baptist church.
Soon enough, a kind congregant made a donation toward new entry doors, and I got to work. It took three and a half years. Each door has 256 parts. The history of the Jews in Spain came through. May we reignite the flame of convivencia.
The doors say to the Sephardim in New Mexico: "bienvenidos, entren, este es su hogar."

("Welcome, come in, this is your home.")