Three Doors: A Community Transformation Parable (for One Collective)

Imagine that first thing each morning every community on the planet must go to a place called “Three Doors”. This is the official starting line for the new day. Each community has a number and an appointment time. This is the law of the land.

At this starting line, as the name suggests, are three doors. The first door is labeled “Food”. The second door “Freedom”. And the third door “Forgiveness”.

I belong to Community 76. Each day at our appointment I scan my personal identification card at the first door and it immediately opens. I quickly gain access to “Food” and then exit. The door automatically closes behind me. I then move to the second door to obtain my “Freedom” and then to the third door for “Forgiveness”.

This has been my routine for as long as I remember. Easy, quick, automatic. My whole community and I are in and out and on with our days. No problems.

Until one day last year that is. On this day something happened to me that has never happened before—

I arrived late to the “Three Doors”.

My whole community had come and gone. In fact Communities 77-100 had also come and gone. I found myself stuck in line behind Community 101— a community I had never seen before. These people looked and acted and even smelled a little strange. After a couple minutes I realized that this community wasn’t moving forward. There was no progress at the doors and I was growing impatient. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd to see what the hold-up was.

I noticed at the “Food” door was a frail-looking woman, likely in her 30s. She was scanning her identification card over and over again but the door was not opening. Hmm, strange, I thought. Then I glanced over at the “Freedom” door and saw a girl in a red dress, no older than 16, frantically banging on the door. But this door also remained closed.

I walked to the third door and saw an aging man staring at the door, in position to scan his card. But, to my surprise, he put the card back in his pocket and began walking away.

Curious as to what was going on, I grabbed this man’s sleeve to get his attention. He slowly turned his face towards me and I looked him in the eyes. There was nothing there. If his eyes were windows to his soul, I could tell he had pulled the blinds down and the curtains closed a long time ago. I took a step closer and saw lines of hopelessness transecting his weathered face like shantytown footpaths. The man dropped his head and walked away—too dejected to even try the door.

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This was not my world, I thought. After all, my daily mantra was “it’s all good”. But that phrase didn’t make sense that day. I had the sinking feeling that everything was not alright. Unsure how to process what I was seeing, I quickly went in and out of the three doors. I collected my Food, Freedom, and Forgiveness and went on with my regularly-scheduled day.

But what I saw that day kept replaying in my mind. Before bed that night I set multiple alarm clocks to make sure I didn’t wake up late for my community’s “Three Door” appointment that next morning. I needed to avoid running into Community 101 again.

That night I had a dream. It was my typical Dr. Seuss-directed dream. And it was good one…up until the very end. I was riding down a sliding board that connected the moon to the earth. As I approached the bottom of the slide I noticed a man sitting right in my path. I yelled for him to get out of the way. But he did not move.

Right before certain collision the man reached out his hand out and stopped me cold in my tracks.

Wow, what courage and strength this man has to stand in harm’s way and to stop me with one hand, I thought.

I looked up at this man and— wait… what?

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was the empty-eyed old man I met in front of the door labeled “Forgiveness”.

He looked at me and said, in a clear and confident voice: “Hello, my name is—“.

But before he could finish, I mustered all the subconscious strength I could to force myself out of the dream and back onto my sweat-soaked bed sheets.

I laid there for a while, breathing like a locomotive and staring a hole into the ceiling. I tried to evict the dream from my head, but it didn’t work. The old man’s face was engraved into my hippocampus. It was like an illuminated cave-drawing on the dimly-lit walls of my mind.

The next night I had the same dream. Same slide. Same old man at the bottom. Once again I managed to escape the dream right before hearing the man’s name. And once again the dream committed violence on my thoughts the entire next day.

Then on the third night there was a third dream. I found myself on the slide again, bobsledding toward the bottom, breaking all sorts of speed records. As I approached the end, I noticed that the old man was not there. This was a great relief to my dream-self. However, I was not prepared for what had taken his place at the bottom of the slide—

A door.

A closed door.

Suddenly I was wishing the old man was there. Maybe if I screamed he would hear me and open the door. But I didn’t know his name to call it out. All that stood between me and the closed door were Newton’s Three Laws of Motion. I closed my eyes and sent off a bottle-rocket prayer. Then, a millisecond before impact, I was thrust out of my dream. Saved, I thought… but somehow I felt more lost than before.

For the next few minutes I was so engrossed in the aftermath of my dream that I didn’t notice the three alarm clocks sounding off in my room. When I finally came back to reality, I looked at the clock and realized I was well behind schedule to start the new day. No time for my normal morning routine, so I downed a half-cup of coffee grounds and fled the house in a blaze of fury (or like “a cheetah in pajamas”, as the mailman on the sidewalk remarked).

I needed to get to the “Three Doors” in time for my community appointment. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

Yes! I made it to the doors with but a minute to spare. But when I reached into my pocket for my identification card, it wasn’t there. Oh no. In the mad rush of the morning I must have dropped my card somewhere. I yelled out to the people of my community for help, but they had already passed through.

I ran over to the door labeled “Food” and knocked. And knocked. And KNOCKED. I then tried kicking it open. There was no way in. I sat down, deflated.

Time passed and I watched community after community pass through—77...84…90…96.

I began to feel a pang in my stomach. This was unlike anything I had ever felt and it intensified as time went on. My saliva was a cake of glue on the roof of my mouth. I desperately needed food and water. The angry sun was firing rays of ultra-violence at me. A vulture landed on a nearby tree to assess the situation.

Suddenly, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. A hand appeared in front of my face. “Is this yours?” a voice asked.

It was the sweetest sight. My identification card, right there, resting in the palm of this small, bony hand. As I raised my head I noticed that this hand belonged to the frail-looking woman from Community 101 that I had seen days before at this very door.

I stood up and thanked her. But, there was no time to chat. Desperate to have my needs met, I sprinted to the first door, the one labeled “Food”. For a second I thought about all that was available to me inside. Glorious and sensuous. Mine.

Or was it mine?

I scanned my identification card and the door opened. I tried to step toward the doorway but couldn’t. My feet and my heart were at war with each other.

I saw the woman’s shadow large in the center of the door. I slowly turned around and looked at her. She hadn’t moved.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Unathi”, she answered. Hearing her name and her voice seemed to unlock something inside of me.

“Unathi, please come in with me”. She looked unsure, so I took her hand and led her through the doorway. The door began to close on us. With all the strength I had I propped the door open— just long enough for both of us to enter.

After some time inside, Unathi and I exited the “Food” door. She emerged with a new glow and I emerged more grateful than ever. But almost immediately, we heard screams coming from the second door, the one labeled “Freedom”. It was the girl in the red dress. She was being forcefully dragged away from the door by two large men. Unathi instinctively took off toward the men. She began striking the men in the back of their heads. Eventually the girl in the red dress wriggled free and darted back to the second door.

Unathi called to me, “Open the door!” I quickly scanned my card and the door opened. I held the door for Unathi, who in turn held the door for the girl in the red dress. We barely made it through before the heavy door closed. I looked over at the girl as she fell to her knees immediately. Unathi wiped the tears from her face and the blood from her arms. I watched as the ropes around her wrists fell to the ground. She stood up, tall and dignified.

“What’s your name?” I asked her as we exited the “Freedom” door.

“Nonkululeko”, she said, with a smile that connected somewhere in the back of her head.

Wasting no time the three of us went to the third door. I held the door for Unathi, who held the door for Nonkululeko, who then held the door for someone else.

From then on, each morning another person gained access to the three doors and that person then became available to hold the doors for someone else the following morning. This process continued day after day for some time.

One morning, as I approached the Three Doors, I stopped and just watched Community 101 from a distance. A bittersweetness came over me. I realized that they didn’t need me anymore. I reclined on the nearby hill and took it all in. The sights and sounds of the community were changing. More love. More light. More hope. Like wildflowers exploding out of a cracked desert floor.

After a season of consistent cooperation and initiative, each person in the community was granted full access to the doors. Their identification cards were activated, yet, interestingly, they continued to hold the doors for each other. I asked Unathi why this was and all she said, “Someday these doors will fall off of their hinges and will be open for everyone everywhere. Forever. For now, I say, why go in alone when we can go in together”.

After the community had passed through that day (I asked them to go on without me), I stood up and walked toward the doors. I was ready to start the new day. I went in and out of the first and second doors. I then approached the final door, the one labeled “Forgiveness”. As I faced the door and reached for my identification card, a voice behind me said:

“Hello, my name is—”

It was him, I knew it. The man in my dreams. I looked at him but barely recognized him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe his eyes. So rich with color and life. I stepped closer and saw new smile lines intersecting the old lines of sorrow and pain.

“Samkelo. My name is Samkelo”.

“I’ve been looking for you,” I said. “Every day. Where have you been?”

“I had stopped coming to Three Doors,” Samkelo replied. “I had given up. I was prepared to die. Then one day two men from my community came on told me about the doors. ‘They’re open! They’re open!’ they kept saying.”

“Well, what happened next?” I asked.

“I didn’t believe it. Or didn’t want to believe it. I eventually agreed to go, somewhat reluctantly. The two men carried me to the doors, for I had no strength left. No hope. No desire. I arrived at the doors and saw you there, opening doors. I remembered that you were the man who grabbed my sleeve that one time and then just went on with your day. I didn’t trust you. I avoided you every day since. Until now.”

“Why now? What changed?” I wondered aloud.

“You. You changed,” he answered. Samkelo closed his eyes for a moment. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I gave him the time he needed.

He then continued: “From a distance I saw duty become joy. You felt. You listened. You saw our gifts and passions and you valued us. In time you became one of us.”

He was right. I was watching this community transform before my eyes and didn’t even notice my own transformation. I couldn’t suppress my tears. Part sorrow, part gratitude.

“Samkelo, thank you for telling me the truth. And I am truly sorry. I am sorry I didn’t help sooner. I’m sorry my community did nothing all those years to reach out.”

He nodded and smiled. It was time for me to go, so I reached for my identification card to enter the final door, the one labeled “Forgiveness”. As I went to scan my card, Samkelo reach out his hand and stopped me cold.

“Let me get the door for you,” he said.