There are three types of people in the world: those who close doors behind them; those who don’t; and those who make a half-hearted, insincere attempt to encourage the door to close itself. They only do this in case others are watching, so that if challenged, they can feign surprise that the darn door displayed so little initiative and follow through.
Those door half closers are the worst. They are a drain on resources without acknowledging their role in it. But we’ll get back to them.
My seat in synagogue is a great one. It’s near the front, one over from an aisle, close to friends, and not too far from a large glass sliding door that allows in light and gives me a glimpse of a world outside the service. Especially in spring, when the creeping and blossoming jasmine reminds us of the glory of creation.
Open doors are magnificent in autumn and spring. But it can also get hot in summer and cold in winter. Unless the air conditioner or heater is functioning, it’s more important that the large glass door remains closed to ensure we’re not letting in cold or hot air.
This is hardly rocket-science. And it’s not breaking science news. In 2023, we know this just as we have known it since sometime in the 1970s.
The days spent in synagogue over the festivals gave me ample opportunity to observe behaviour. The interesting thing is that it became easily predictable who would close the door, make no attempt to do so, or would do so half-heartedly.
Door closers have their life together. Their clothes match, their shoelaces are tied, and if they have hair, it’s kempt. They have the appropriate prayer book in hand, and will often glance at their watch to determine if the service is running on schedule.
Non-closers, in general, look as though they have just stumbled into the venue and can’t quite figure out how they got there. Their shirt buttoning is likely unaligned and there’s little doubt that they clean forgot to glance at themselves in the mirror before falling out of their houses. They are the ones who might have a piece of toilet paper stuck to their shoe, and who might be blinking strangely because they’re wearing their wives’ contact lenses. They are the ones who have pushed an empty pram to shul and cannot quite recall who was meant to be on board.
And yet it’s the half closers who need to be feared. They often appear as functioning members of society when this couldn’t be further from the truth. They should be avoided both in marriage and in business. They are the ones who will wash their hands in a restroom only when others are present, who will litter when no-one is looking, and who won’t leave a note when they bump your car in the parking lot. They never recycle, but will have colour-coded bins to create the impression that they do.
And then there’s the next generation. The children of door closers close doors. The offspring of non-closers don’t, and the half closers will go on to be functional alcoholics.
Unless their behaviour is corrected and they are taught that, whereas society might demand a lot of us and of our kids, being respectful of a closed door is hardly the biggest ask.
