A white dove

If the Shulamite, the famous queen of Sheba - to whom King Solomon dedicated much of that mystical poetic contained in the Song of Solomon - was black for the daughters of Jerusalem because it had been roasted by the sun, the old synagogue of Saint Mary , It is a ray of light for those children of Toledo, who outside the walls of its narrow, dark and always mysterious alleys, see in it a succulent delicacy with which to satisfy part of the cultural hunger that attracts the foreigner to let himself be carried away by the magic of the ancient capital of the Visigothic empire.

It should not be strange, therefore, that it bears the nickname of La Blanca, with the same determination with which the Andalusians refer to that soma or sacred drink that for them is chamomile, although with much less devotion than the one that these guard to those virgins, charismatically rocieras and of pristine carved face, which they also call the White Dove.

Inheritance of that capital of forgotten empires, which according to Rilke, is that Toledo that he met at the beginning of the 20th century, which ultimately and to understand us, is the same Toledo that today pays its shame to a wild tourism and hungry for sensations, history of this magnificent place, it hardly differs from that other history, ancient like the world, in which fanaticism is the golden rule where the monopolizers of Truth try to hide their intransigence by crossing crosses and stairs with which to paint sovereign myths.

Even so, and regardless of the fact that after the continuous expulsions of Jews and Moors initiated by the Catholic Hicks - sorry, I wanted to say, by the Catholic Monarchs - this brilliant jewel of rabbinical art was converted into a Christian church, having received the holy water and the consecration cross, it is obvious, as soon as they put their feet inside, that little or nothing matters the creed, in reality, because both God, as Allah, as Yahweh are present in the place.

Believe it or not, it is not necessary to go in there hitting yourself in the chest proclaiming to the four winds which club you belong to, because they are all One and in that One they are All.

This was admitted by one of the most illustrious medieval minds of the time, such as Bernardo de Claraval, when he affirmed that God was balance, measure, proportion and harmony, and thus I feel it and I admit it too, for many cesariones that come to me I pass with my thumb down and they throw me, like Daniel, into the lions' den.

God is Light and at the same time is Geometry and you are fully aware of it when you plant yourself inside - avoiding, of course, the legions of tourists that swarm there walking like someone who walks through an amusement park - and feel, as Saint Bernard felt, God in that Light, clear, which dazzles but does not harm the eyes, but on the contrary, envelops the spirit with peace and tranquility.

And he continues to see it, now in the form of Allah, in the magnificent columns supported by lobed arches, supported by legitimately foliaceous capitals, reminiscent of Yahweh's wonderful work.

In short: to enter a place like Santa María la Blanca, is to come to the conviction that Truth is One and that we are all his heirs.

NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property.