For years, I watched Theodor Rădulescu from the shadows. I watched his steps as he was led by his mother or father to the Divine Liturgy. I heard him singing joyfully at every service. I saw his face radiating light and his smile that transcends our world. For Theodor, this 24-year-old young man from Timișoara, although he does not see like us, through his joy (which always reminds me of Father Teofil Părăian) is above the “seen” world.
I knew he was a pianist, that he had been studying music since he was little, but it was only recently, attending two of his concerts, that the Lord arranged for me to discover what that means. Our darkness is light for Theodor. Light in which music has woven a nest of Heaven, spreading wonderful rays whenever this young man sits before the keys.
On a Thursday evening in June, I arrived, with adventures (how else?!), in a terrible rain, at the Timișoara Synagogue, to enter, through a unique concert, “Into Theodor's World.” To shift our attention from outside to within, the organizers offered all spectators a black mask at the entrance, with the invitation to wear it throughout the entire recital. I placed it obediently over my eyes even before the artist stepped into the hall. I had never experienced such an “immersion,” so when, after almost two hours of listening to the piano, I reopened my eyes and found Theodor smiling in front of us, I was uncontrollably overcome with tears. Tears flowed amidst the continuous roar of applause... I told the Lord (in my thoughts) that I humbly bow before his cross and that of his wonderful family, who polished him into a pearl for all of us.
I recently wrote, in a pseudo-review, a little about my struggle to understand what a visually impaired person goes through. Now the Lord has granted me to understand a bit more. After the first notes listened to in darkness, a host of contradictory feelings enveloped me. Fear (“How does light emerge from this darkness in Theodor?”, “Lord, for me it will be over in an hour... I'll take off my mask and – voilà! – there will be light again!”), dread (“What would I do if I lost my sight?”), and then, suddenly, peace and gratitude for the gift of being there and enjoying hearing, from now on, the waterfalls, rains, storms, sunrises, and sunsets as I had never heard them before... Surely, I wouldn't have experienced it as intensely without that black mask. (I stubbornly refused to take it off, despite the three-year-old squirming constantly in my arms, and the middle child falling asleep and almost falling off the chair, had my husband not been attentive to him!).
I descended into the depths through Theodor's music. In the depths of my being, there was a host of contradictory, disparate feelings. Theodor's music brought them together and showed them to me, clear, in the darkness. I closed my eyes outside, to see better within. (Stumbling through the daily tumult, when do we still have time to do that?). I was frightened and healed my wounds, a little. Chapeau, dear Theodor! To you and to all who have contributed to who you are today!
Georgiana Camalessa
Photos by "Banatul" Philharmonic