Chapter 1-2 – Five Translation Challenges

“Why do we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashanah? Why do we blow it? The All-Merciful told us: ‘Blow.’”[15]

Why do Jews blow a shofar during the High Holy Days? For many, “tradition” is an adequate answer. Indeed, memories from childhood of hearing shofar while in the loving embrace of parents or grandparents create a powerful momentum from generation to generation. A friend recalls with warmth, “The first time I remember hearing the shofar, I was a little girl, standing next to my father during the High Holidays, and he leaned down and gathered me into his tallit.” That shared embrace implanted an indelible memory of blessing, protection, and love.

410 - Anointing horn

Shofarot made from animal horns decay rapidly when buried in earth, and none have survived from antiquity. However, this ivory trumpet found at Megiddo is from the 14^th century BCE, and is testimony that horns have been part of Semitic culture for hundreds of generations.

For many, the significance of a religious tradition is not in understanding it’s meaning, but simply in the observance of its rituals. At Sinai, after all, we said, “We will do” before we said, “We will hear,” even without understanding God’s commandments.[16] It has been observed that, “Provided the worshipper fulfilled the ritual with accuracy, no one cared what he believed about its origin.”[17] Or, as Tevye the milkman says, “Where do our traditions come from? I’ll tell you. I don’t know. But it’s a tradition.”[18]

“The mitzvah of shofar has profound kabbalistic significance, which the saintly sages had in mind during the shofar blowing. But in Heaven, the simple intention of blowing the shofar because HaShem commanded it is cherished greatly.”[19]

Many contemporary Jews, however, have a spiritual hunger that drives them to ask fundamental questions. Rapid changes in society make it necessary to reexamine ritual and rejuvenate them so they remain vital in our lives. Heschel says:

“There are spiritual reasons that compel me to feel alarmed when hearing the terms ‘customs’ and ‘ceremonies.’ What is the worth of celebrating the seder on Passover Eve if it is nothing but a ceremony? An annual re-enactment of quaint antiquities? Ceremonies end in boredom, and boredom is the great enemy of the spirit. A religious act is something in which the soul must be able to participate; out of which inner devotion, kavanah, must evolve. But what kavanah should I entertain if entering the sukkah is a mere ceremony?”[20]

The word, “Kavanah,” in the above quotation is Hebrew meaning “intention, mindset, or intentionality.” A shofar blast with the kavanah of fulfilling the mitzvah of shofar will have a very different meaning than a shofar blast used as a sound effect in a movie, even if the two blasts sound the same. Delving further into questions about why we sound shofar can help develop a clearer kavanah with regards to the ritual and attune our listening to the shofar’s voice.

Because God Tells Us To

The sound of the shofar is the approved soundtrack for the Days of Awe. The Torah makes it clear that sounding shofar on the High Holy Days is a mitzvah, a commandment from God.

The pertinent clause governing Yom Kippur is:

“Then you shall sound the horn loud; in the seventh month, on the tenth day of the month – the Day of Atonement – you shall have the horn sounded throughout your land and you shall hallow the fiftieth year.” Leviticus 25:9[21]

While translated as “horn,” the Hebrew says “shofar.” The verse requires the blowing of the shofar on Yom Kippur every fiftieth year, the Jubilee year.[22] Torah prescribes a sabbatical every seven years during which the land is to be left fallow. The Jubilee occurs after seven cycles of sabbaticals and adds several additional requirements: slaves are to be freed and land is to be returned to the family or clan to whom it was originally given.

While we (unfortunately) no longer observe the Jubilee, we now sound shofar on Yom Kippur to memorialize this commandment and to symbolize our emancipation from sin through atonement on the Day of Atonement. More will be said on the shofar of Yom Kippur in Part Four of this Book.

Two other Torah verses lay the basis for blowing shofar on Rosh Hashanah:

“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, Speak to the Israelite people thus: In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts.” Leviticus 23:23-25

“In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe a sacred occasion: you shall not work at your occupations. You shall observe it as a day when the horn is sounded.” Numbers 29:1

While the sense of these two English verses is accurate, they present us with several translation challenges.

1. The first is in the translation from Hebrew to English. Neither verse actually mentions a “horn” or the word “shofar.” Instead, they both prescribe “teruah,” a word that can be translated as “blast” or “blowing.”[23] Leviticus, in other words, commands us to “remember the blowing,” and Numbers commands that the first day of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah, shall be a “day of blowing.”

2. The second translation problem is in interpreting the intent of the original language; what are we to “blow”? The clue is the reference to “remembering” – the blowing we are to remember is the call of shofar at Mount Sinai:

“When the ram’s horn sounds a long blast, they [the people] may go up on the mountain.”[24]

“On the third day, as morning dawned, there was thunder, and lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud blast of the shofar; and all the people who were in the camp trembled. Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for the Lord had come down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled violently. The blare of the shofar grow louder and louder. As Moses spoke, God answered him in thunder.”[25]

“All the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the blare of the shofar and the mountain smoking…”[26]

The original production of The Ten Commandments had even better special effects than the movie and was, the critics say, “unforgettable.” Tradition teaches us that “all the people witnessed” God’s revelation, including you and me. How could we not remember the teruah of shofar?

Now that we understand that the Torah bids us to observe teruah on Rosh Hashanah with a shofar, our next two translation challenges are:

3. What, exactly, is meant by the word, “shofar”? And,

4. What is a “teruah” supposed to sound like?

There are two ways we determine the answers to these questions:

First, we can rely on tradition, the living Torah, as alluded to in the introduction to this Chapter – we know the answers because “Moses received the Torah from Sinai and handed it down to Joshua; Joshua to the Elders; the Elders to the Prophets; the Prophets handed it down to the Great Assembly.”[27] They, in turn, taught the rabbis, who told their students, who told me, just as I now tell you.

The second technique is to search the written Torah for evidence that can be constructed into proofs, a search that has produced the Talmud – particularly Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Rosh Hashanah – and twenty-five hundred years of commentaries.

Either methodology yields the same answers:

· A shofar is the hollow horn of an animal, preferably a ram and definitely not a cow or bull, with a bore through the tip that allows us to blow through the horn and produce a sound.

· Teruah is a fragmented blast of the shofar that can be compared to the sound of crying or wailing.

These definitions will be augmented throughout this book.

5. The final challenge is to translate the sounds of shofar so they have spiritual meaning and motivate us toward teshuvah – the process of making amends to those we have harmed, correcting our defects of character and seeking and giving forgiveness.

Trumpets

Before we proceed, however, there is at least one more Torah passage that dictates blowing on Rosh Hashanah. As the first day of the month of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah is also a Rosh Hodesh, the head of the month marked by the first appearance of the new moon, and governed by the following commandment:

“The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Have two silver trumpets made: make them of hammered work. They shall serve you to summon the community and to set the divisions [of the Tribes] in motion. When both are blown in long blasts, the whole community shall assemble before you at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting; and if only one is blown, the chieftains, heads of Israel’s contingents, shall assemble before you.

“But when you sound short blasts, the divisions encamped on the east shall move forward, and when you sound short blasts a second time, those encamped on the south shall move forward. Thus short blasts shall be blown for setting them in motion, while to convoke the congregation you shall blow long blasts, not short ones.

“The trumpets shall be blown by Aaron’s sons, the priest; they shall be for you an institution for all time throughout the ages.

“When you are at war in your land against an aggressor who attacks you, you shall sound short blasts on the trumpets, that you may be remembered before the Lord your God and be delivered from your enemies. And on your joyous occasions – your fixed festivals and new moon days – you shall sound trumpets over the burnt offerings and your sacrifices of well-being.

“They shall be a reminder of you before your God: I, the Lord, am your God.”[28]

Silver trumpets used by the Aaron’s sons may have been like this one, found in Pharaoh Tutankhamen’s tomb.[29].

Like other commandments prescribed for the priests in the Mishkon and Temple, this ritual is no longer observed in its original form. When Jews need to blow today, we use the humble ram’s horn instead of silver trumpets. (I doubt the redactors of Torah anticipated the silver trumpets we now blow at Bar and Bat Mitzvah parties and other simchas or celebrations.) Still, these verses establish the precedent for blowing to assemble our congregations and call us to action, to sound the alarm to struggle against sin and injustice, to create holy noise at times of celebration, and to remind God of our needs and prayers.

The drawing shows a trumpet being used in Egyptian military maneuvers.[30]

Shofar and Trumpet

The silver trumpets described in Torah are called “ĥatzotzrot” in Hebrew. Scripture makes clear distinction between the two instruments; there is no verse that says, “sound a shofar or a trumpet.”

Over the years and through translations, however, the distinction has become blurred. “It is noted[31] that since the destruction of the Temple, the names for the shofar and the trumpet had been confused. The same complaint may be made against the Septuagint…”[32]

Another scholar says, “Given the similar function and symbolism associated with the two instruments, one can probably say that a certain continuity of tradition does obtain between them. At the same time, the [ĥatzotzrot] was clearly a cultic instrument and a symbol of the institutionalized, sacral-secular and autocratic power of the second temple, while the [shofar] was from time immemorial an instrument associated with the magical and mystical phenomenon of theophany”[33]

Silver trumpets have not played a major part in Jewish spiritual life during the past two millennia. Throughout this book, I have taken the liberty of assuming that the meaning and role of the ĥatzotzrot is now carried in the voice of the shofar.

The trumpets from the Temple are shown in this relief on the Arch of Titus in Rome, showing the Roman booty from the destruction of the 2^nd Temple.

New Moon

The injunction to blow a horn on Rosh Chodesh – the new moon – is restated in Psalm 81:4:

“Blow the shofar on the new moon… because it is a decree for Israel, a judgment for the God of Jacob…”

One commentary on this verse makes it clear that, in the final analysis, it is not necessary for us to fully understand why we blow shofar. “The Hebrew word for decree’ usually alludes to a Torah law the reason for which is not revealed in Scripture. The Hebrew word for ‘judgment,’ on the other hand, alludes to a law that has a readily understood rationale. Thus, the mitzvah of shofar is a decree to Israel, for God has not revealed His reasons for the commandment. Nevertheless, we are certain that to Him, in His infinite wisdom, it is a judgment with a clear and logical base.”[34]

Translating Psalm 81[35]

In Hebrew, Psalm 81:4 is:

“Tiku ba-hodesh shofar ba’keseh l’yom chagaynu.”

A direct translation would be:

“Blow in the month a [shofar], In the new moon, at the day of our festival”. [36]

There is uncertainty, however, about the meaning of “ba-keseh”, the fourth Hebrew word in the verse and translated above as “In the new moon.” This translation links the verse to Rosh Hashanah, a feast day that occurs on the new moon of Tishrei. Indeed, Rosh Hashanah is also called, “Yom Keseh”, The Day of Concealment. The name emphasizes that Rosh Hashanah is the only major festival to occur when the moon is concealed. It also invites mystical interpretations: On other festivals, the Jewish people can be compared to the radiance of the full moon; on Rosh Hashanah our light is eclipsed as we stand in awe of the Day of Judgment. We do not blow shofar on the day before Rosh Hashanah in order to conceal the court date from Satan. And God conceals our sins to grant us forgiveness.[37]

The connection to Rosh Hashanah is also implied by Rash’s translation of “ba’keseh” to mean, “at the appointed time.”

Alternatively, “our festival” could refer to the celebration of Rosh Hodesh in general. This is implied in the translation:

“Sound the Shofar on the New Moon; in the dark of the moon, which is our festival.”[38]

It has been said that, “The Moon in our tradition represents Shechina, the Divine Presence that is always present but sometimes hidden in shadow. The sound of the shofar calls Shechina out from her hiding place and welcomes her back into our awareness.”[39] Among the primitive tribes of our foreparents, I imagine the darkness of the full moon as a time of fear and mystery when loud blasts would be used as magic to scare away dark and harken the rebirth of light.

Most modern translations, however, interpret “keseh” as having something to do with “fullness.” For example:

“Blow the shofar on the new moon, on the full moon for our feast day.”[40]

This could suggest that shofar should be blown on the pilgrimage holidays of Sukkot and Passover, both of which begin on full moons. Indeed, I embrace this translation in Chapter 3-6 – The Ram’s Horn of Passover because it suits a position advanced there.

A beautiful contemporary translation seeks a resolution to the conflicting meanings of the verse:

“Sound a shofar at the New Moon… at the moment of concealment/potential for our Celebration Day.”[41]

The author suggests that it is at the moment of newness that one has fullness of potential and all hidden possibilities are present.[42]

More Reasons for Shofar

Saadiah Gaon[43] articulated the following reasons for shofar:[44]

“There are ten reasons why the Creator, blessed be He, commanded us to sound the shofar on Rosh Hashanah:

1. “Because this day is the beginning of creation on which the Holy One, blessed be He, created the world and reigned over it. Just as is with kings at the start of their reign — trumpets and horns are blown in their presence to make it known and to let it be heard in every place — thus it is when we designated the Creator as King on this day. As David said: ‘With trumpets and sounds of the horn, shout ye before the King the Lord.’[45]

2. “Because the day of New Year is the first of the ten days of repentance, the shofar is sounded on it to announce to us as one warns and says: ‘Whoever wants to repent — let him repent; and if he does not, let him reproach himself.’ Thus do the kings: first they warn the people of their decree; then, if one violates a decree after the warning, his excuse is not accepted.

3. “To remind us of Mount Sinai, as it is said: ‘the blare of the horn grew louder and louder,’[46] and that we should accept for ourselves the covenant that our ancestors accepted for themselves, as they said ‘we will do and we will obey.’[47]

4. “To remind us of the words of the prophets that were compared to the sound of the shofar, as it is said: ‘Then whosoever hears the sound of the horn, and takes not warning, if the sword come and take him away, his blood shall be upon his own head... whereas if he had taken warning, he would have delivered his soul.’[48]

5. “To remind us of the destruction of the Temple and the sound of the battle-cries of the enemies, as it is said: ‘Because you have heard, O my soul, the sound of the horn, the alarm of war.’[49] When we hear the sound of the shofar, we will ask God to rebuild the Temple.

6. “To remind us of the binding of Isaac who offered his life to Heaven.[50] We also should offer our lives for the sanctification of His name, and thus we will be remembered for good.

7. “When we will hear the blowing of the shofar, we will be fearful and we will tremble, and we will humble ourselves before the Creator, for that is the nature of the shofar — it causes fear and trebling, as it is written: ‘Shall the horn be blown in a city and the people not tremble?’[51]

8. “To recall the day of the great judgment and to be fearful of it, as it is said: ‘the great day of the Lord is near, it is near and hastens greatly...a day of the horn and alarm.’[52]

9. “To remind us of the ingathering of the scattered ones of Israel, that we ardently desire, as it is said: ‘And it shall come to pass in that day, that a great horn shall be blown; and they shall come who were lost in the land of Assyria...and they shall worship the Lord in the holy mountain at Jerusalem.’[53]

10. “To remind us of the resurrection of the dead and the belief in it, as it is said: ‘All ye inhabitants of the world, and ye dwellers on the earth, when an ensign is lifted up on the mountains, see ye; and when the horn is blown, hear ye.’”[54]

“Saadiah Gaon’s ten reasons for the shofar focus our attention on the aspects of existence that, taken together, include all of life – from beginning to end of time and space, with the most dramatic of archetypal mythic events in between. The shofar teaches past, present, and future. It heightens consciousness and awareness of self – the self alone as well as the self in relation to the universe.”[55]

The late Lubavitcher Rebbe left us the following additional reasons for shofar:

11. Its sound is compared to that of a child crying out to his/her parent (and, in turn, to our crying out to God, our Father).

12. The use of an animal’s horn reminds us that even our most hardened “animal-like” instincts are included in the service of God.

13. Although many ritual vessels can become “tameh” (ritually impure), the shofar cannot – the shofar is the device with which we express our innate connection with God; this connection can be neither severed nor sullied; it remains intact and is always ready to be drawn upon.

14. The shofar preferably has a bend in it, symbolizing our willingness to bend our will to that of God.

15. The mitzvah of shofar is only fulfilled when it is blown with the intent of connecting to Godliness; the same is true of all mitzvot – they are not simply tasks to be blindly carried out, but rather are spiritual tools to connect with God in a meaningful way.[56]

Drawing upon the stories of women that inform our hearing of shofar (see Chapter 7 – The Ewe’s Horn), we can add:[57]

16. To remind us of our mother Sarah who, upon hearing what God had asked of her husband and son, sobbed and wailed like the cries of a shofar, and then died.

17. To remind us of our mother, Hannah, whose horn was exalted when God answered her heartfelt prayers.

I find the following additional reasons:

18. To remind us that there is “a time for war and a time for peace.”[58] A time for war as it is written, “When you hear a trumpet call, gather yourselves to me at that place; our God will fight for us!”[59] And a time for peace, as it is written: “Joab then sounded the horn, and all the troops halted…and stopped the fighting.”[60]

19. To remind us that Judaism evolved from and is still connected to the Earth-based, shamanistic practices of a tribal cult.

20. To see that our journey through life follows a spiral path of growth.[61]

21. To help exorcise the dybbuks – demons – that we may bear.

22. To remind us that when the Holy One calls, we may hear light and see sound.[62]

23. To renew us in the Covenants of Noah, the Akedah, and Sinai.

24. To remind us, as God said to Cain, we can master the urge to sin.

25. To maintain a legacy of the High Priest’s Yom Kippur ritual with the two goats, one sacrificed and the other sent to Azazel.

26. To call forth with the voice of a sheep to acknowledge our Shepherd.

These explanations for shofar form the scriptural and rabbinic basis for hearing shofar. But the reasons we still respond to its call – may be even older than the written Law. This topic will be explored in Book 3 of Hearing Shofar: The Still Small Voice of the Ram’s Horn.

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1-4 – Meditations for Each Day of Elul

“In the few days remaining of this year, let us be smart enough to choose the proper thoughts to concentrate upon during Rosh Hashanah.”[79]

It is a richly rewarding tradition to hear the shofar daily during the Elul, the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. If you participate in a morning minyan – communal prayer service, that is the best time for shofar. Otherwise, take a few moments to sound and listen to shofar yourself or with your family.

Reading and reflecting on these meditations may help with the inner work or required to spiritually prepare for the Days of Awe, and with the external work required to make amends to yourself and others.

It is customary to not blow shofar on Shabbat. Instead, either skip that day’s reading or read the meditation and try to remember the voice of shofar without sounding one. (See Chapter 9 – Remembering Shofar.)

Meditation for First Day of Elul

“In the beginning…God said…”[80]

The world was not created by thought, but by action. God’s speaking created a vibration, a ripple in the cosmos, that continues to move outward from its source and exchange energy with everything it contacts.

When we blow shofar, we are acting in God’s image, creating change in the world through sound.

In the physical world, sound vibrations transfer mechanical energy and generate minute amounts of heat due to molecular friction. In the physical world, the energy of shofar, like any other sound, entropies, dissipating until its impact is lost and forgotten.

In the higher worlds, however, the vibrations of shofar becomes amplified when they are heard and act as a stimulus for teshuvah, the process of making amends for our sins (missing the mark) and returning to a life more in alignment with divine purpose.

Hearing is more than the passive registration of acoustic energy by our auditory nerve; to hear shofar requires us to be spiritually present. We must become so receptive that the vibrations enter our minds, hearts and souls and move us towards taking the actions that produce teshuvah.

Teshuvah is not created by thoughts alone; action is required. For sins between us and God, we must ADMIT our error, FEEL regret and RESOLVE to not repeat the sins. For sins between us and another person, we must also ASK forgiveness and MAKE restitutions.

If we do not actively hear shofar in a way that prompts teshuvah, then the vibrations merely pass through us, doing little else than imperceptibly raising our body temperatures.

Years ago, a professor gave me the assignment to calculate how much sound energy was required to heat a cup of tea. During Elul, the month proceeding Rosh Hashanah, we can do better than that. We can use the energy of shofar to move us to brew an entire pot of tea, and then to sit down and share a cup with our family, neighbors and associates to settle old scores, heal festering wounds, ask for forgiveness for our offenses, and forgive those against whom we may hold grudges.

When we do this, we are truly acting in the image of God, moving against the flow of entropy to create a new world. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, visualize sitting down with a cup of tea with your worthy opponents. What would you like to say and hear that may lead to healing?

Meditation for Second Day of Elul

“The Lord God formed man… He blew into his nostrils the breath of life…”[81]

This is the breath we return when we blow shofar.

The connection between breath and knowledge of God is so deep that it is rooted in our languages. In English, “respiration” and “spiritual” share the same root. In Hebrew, “neshamah” (soul) and “neshēmah” (breath) share the same root, while “ruach” can mean either “wind” or “spirit.”

One could reasonably assume that a powerful exhalation is the breath required to produce a strong shofar blast. As a shofar blower, however, I have found that the most important breath is my inhalation before blowing shofar.

On the practical level, filling my chest with air provides the substance that will later be channeled into the shofar. Plus, it oxygenates my blood so I do not faint during a prolonged tekiah gedolah.

But on a deeper level, the inhalation fills us with life. In that first breath, Adam had to inhale to receive the breath God blew into his nostrils. In the same way, inhaling continues to fill us with the spirit of life.

We are reborn with every inhalation. Then, like a newborn baby, we cry. Our cry is the voice of shofar announcing the birth of a New Year, a new world. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, feel the spirit flowing through your body with each breath.

Meditation for Third Day of Elul

“And the Lord said to Cain,

‘Why are you distressed,

And why is your face fallen?

Surely, if you do right,

There is uplift.

But if you do not do right

Sin couches at the door;

Its urge is toward you,

Yet you can be its master.’”[82]

The voice of shofar blares out of the story of Cain, introducing fundamental themes that resonate throughout the liturgy of the Days of Awe.

11^th Century Romanesque ivory bas-relief shows God accepting Abel’s sacrifice of a sheep over Cain’s offering of grain, and the events that followed.[83]

The story of Cain is not usually associated with shofar and the High Holy Days. But consider the evidence; Genesis introduces four motifs that are interwoven into the Days of Awe:[84]

1. The sacrifices offered by Cain and Abel are the first instance of WORSHIP in Torah.

2. Abel’s slaying is the first mention of SIN in Torah.[85]

3. God’s exhortation to Cain, above, is the first place in Torah that lays out the basic tenets of TESHUVAH, an individual’s opportunity to chose to do right.

4. When Cain prayed, “My punishment is too great to bear!” we have the first instance in Torah where God, by placing a mark of protection on Cain, shows MERCY.

Further:

· Abel was a keeper of sheep, and his offering was accepted while Cain’s offering from the fruit of the soil was not. This is the first mention of sheep in Torah and foreshadows the myriad instances in which sheep are woven into the historical and spiritual identity of the Jewish people, including: the binding of Isaac[86], the blood of the lamb that marked our doors on the night of the Passover, the blaring of the ram’s horn at Sinai.

· From Cain descended Jubal, the father of all musicians. Talmud explains that his name means “ram”, signaling the significance of the ram’s horn in our tradition and tying the generations of Cain to the shofar.

· We are told that both Cain and Abel (and their twin sisters) were born on Rosh Hashanah.

· Legend has it that the mark God placed on Cain was a horn.

When I blow shofar on Rosh Hashanah, I viscerally experience God’s declaration, “Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” While shofar’s sound is produced by buzzing my lips, I feel it as a vibration rising out of the earth, coursing through my body, and rushing out the shofar to create a conduit between heaven and earth.

We are the children of Cain, “a restless wanderer on earth.” Yet in the sound of shofar, we remember that we can be masters of the evil inclination. There is sin, but there is also teshuvah and mercy. There is hope. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, ask for strength and courage to master your urge to sin.

Meditation for Fourth Day of Elul

“Let us, then, go down and confound their speech there, so that they shall not understand one another’s speech.”[87]

The shofar is a tool for amplifying and modulating sound. Perhaps anthropologists can tell us which came first, spoken language or the use of tools; spoken prayer or horn blowing. I do not know.

However, I do know that before any of these things, we did quite well communicating emotions using non-verbal sounds and body language. Like many other animals, we expressed ourselves with grunts and growls. Thumping our chest and puffing our chests. Flailing our extremities and shaking heads. And roaring and howling – just as shofar still does.

Hearing shofar enables us to return to a time before Babel when we all shared a common language. Now, as then, we understand clearly the raw emotions and instinctual behaviors aroused by shofar: fear, awe, love, courage, bewilderment, passion, commitment, release, joy, and…

There is no need to process the voice of shofar through the higher speech centers of our minds, only to hear it.

The Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur liturgies are floods of words. Even if we read Hebrew, Aramaic, and the other languages in which our prayer book is written, how many of us really understand them? Do the words have the same meaning to me as they do to you? Can they possibly have the same meaning now as when first spoken on the other side of the world and the millennia?

Halfway through services, are we even capable of hearing more words? Or have they become burnt hard like bricks and stacked one on top of the other in an attempt to build a tower of words with its top in the sky?

But then shofar sounds. The tower of words tumble and we return, if only for an instant, to an ancient primal language we all understand. We look at each other and know that nothing we propose to do will be out of our reach.

Stripped of our words and reduced to naked souls, we stand trembling together. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, quiet the flood of words in your mind and simply hear sound.

Meditation for Fifth Day of Elul

“…but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”[88]

The wild sheep of the ancient world was an important source of protein, fat, and hide. But it was also a terrifying animal that was strong, fast, and crowned with powerful horns that outmatched the primitive weapons of our ancestors. The creature was literally the source of life and death to the Paleolithic hunter, and inspired magical attempts to influence its behavior. Rabbi Jonathan Omer-Man has said that the early humans who attributed divine qualities to the forces of nature were the “spiritual geniuses” of their age.[89] The ram was a god to the ancient Semites that wandered between the Tigris and Nile Rivers.

Later, when horned animals were domesticated, they were no longer seen as gods beyond human control. Yet the memory of an all-powerful ram still existed; a god that still demanded death to be propitiated. By then, our agriculture had advanced enough to afford the sacrifice of an animal now and then, especially since our flocks yielded more males than were needed for breeding.

This was the world in which Isaac was reared. His father’s god was no longer in the shape of a beast, but still demanded blood, smoke, and the crackle of sizzling fat.

Still later, we were taken as slaves into Babylon, and we no longer had the fat of the land to burn. Worship turned from Temple-based sacrifice, to the offering of all we had left to give – our voices. Yet the memory of the ram still existed. And then, as today, we mark the vernal New Year with a charred bone of a sheep, and the autumnal New Year with the voice of sheep, shofar.

There is a story about the Hasidic master who, on the New Year, would go to a certain spot in the woods, and recite a particular blessing, and it was enough. Later, his disciples no longer knew the certain spot in the woods, but would welcome the New Year with the particular blessing, and it was enough. Today, we no longer know the certain spot in the woods or the particular blessing. But we tell the story, and it is enough.

When we now blow shofar to welcome the New Year, it tells the story of nearly six thousand years of spiritual growth. And it is enough. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, let the modern self and your primitive self embrace.

Meditation for Sixth Day of Elul

“Go to the flock and fetch me two choice kids, and I will make of them a dish for your father, such as he likes…and she covered his hands and the hairless parts of his neck with skins of the kids.”[90]

Our sages tell us that, when we hear shofar, the ram’s horn should remind us to meditate on the faith of Abraham and how he was tested. The Akedah, the binding of Isaac, is a story of infinite significance, yet sometimes I question why it was singled out to be read every year on Rosh Hashanah. The entire Torah is sacred, after all, so what would it be like if we read a different story on the New Year?

If, instead, we read about Esau and Jacob, on what would we then meditate when we heard the ram’s horn?

Meditation often produces surprising leaps of creative association, and our thoughts may turn to Chad Gadya, the allegorical Passover song about the “one kid my father bought for two zuzim,” two coins. Except that in this story, there are two kids – Esau and Jacob – who bought one zuz – their father’s inheritance.

These two kids fought each other from the womb like rams in rutting season. Moreover, they are both symbolically offered as a sacrifice when Rachel makes a meal for Isaac with “two choice kids” from the flock. When the father eats the sacrifice, he gives a blessing that is along the lines of what the Patriarchs hoped to receive when they offered a kid to The Father. During the Days of Awe, we too pray for a blessing from Father.

The Pesach song can be understood as a parable about how powerful regimes fall, one after another, just like the estates of Esau and Jacob fall one to the other. Was the mix-up in Jacob’s blessing due to just the machinations of a mother playing favorites, or is the unseen hand of God working behind the scenes. The answer is implied in our question during the High Holy Days, “Who shall be humbled, and who exalted?”

The competition between the sons of Isaac turns to hostility and then to threats of death. The family is torn apart, and the brothers do not see each other for 20 years. Eventually, Jacob decides to seek reconciliation with his brother. While Jacob is returning to his homeland, a divine messenger renames him Israel. From this, we learn the transformational potential of teshuvah, a Hebrew word that means, “to return.”

Israel makes amends to his brother by gifting him with flocks and bowing to the ground to ask forgiveness, and is accepted in love by his brother. What started as a dreamy meditation now comes into focus as a tale about blessings, standing in judgment before God, and teshuvah – the process of healing rifts and returning to wholeness.

Then came the Holy One, blessed is He. Chad gadya, chad gadya. Amen.

As you hear shofar today meditate on the unseen hand shaping your destiny. Where is there estrangement in your life? To where or what must you return?

Meditation for Seventh Day of Elul

“When Joseph came up to his brothers, they…cast him into a pit.”[91]

The Talmud says, “If one blows a shofar into a pit… the law is as follows: If he heard the sound of shofar without an accompanying echo, he has fulfilled his obligation. But if he heard the sound of shofar’s echo, he has not fulfilled his obligation.”[92]

For most of us, the image of blowing shofar into a pit seems so preposterous, that we may not immediately grasp why the sages considered it. But time and again, it has been necessary for Jews to perform the mitzvah of shofar clandestinely, hiding in cellars and caves, to circumvent oppression.

What did Joseph do while at the bottom of the pit? Perhaps he napped and had another prophetic dream. Or did he pray for release? For courage to face his ordeal? For compassion to forgive his brothers? Or for…

If he prayed, would his prayers have ricochet off the walls of the cistern? And if so, would his prayer echoes have become invalidated before God heard them?

Topologically, a shofar is a tube, a hollow space that acts as a megaphone to modulate and amplify vibrations. Understood this way, Joseph was at the bottom of a huge earth-based shofar. Dug vertically into the ground, the pit was on an axis passing through the planet’s center and straight into the heavens. His prayers from the bottom of the pit, even whispered, would have been amplified far beyond any tekiah gedolah (big shofar blast) emanating from an ordinary ram’s horn.

But there is a qualification. Joseph’s prayers would only have escaped the gravity of self-pity or recrimination if his kavanah, the intention behind his prayer, was inclined towards teshuvah – making whole the worlds.

Otherwise, his words would have done little more than bounce from one wall to the other. Inside the pit, the reverberation would make his voice sound big and booming; very satisfying to hear on a superficial level, but not nearly as effective as the still small voice of the heart for communicating with the One. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, meditate on the pits in which you are confined. Are you dozing or praying? What is your kavanah?

Meditation for Eighth Day of Elul

“I am the Lord your God…”[93]

A more literal translation of the Hebrew is, “I am Yud-Hay-Vav-Hay, your God…,” using the four letter name of God that is beyond translation and beyond pronunciation.

Rabbi Arthur I. Waskow has written about pronouncing The Name and asks, what if there are no vowels in The Name, only the consonants yud, hay, and vav? Pronouncing these letters sounds like, “yyyyyyyyy-hhhhhhhh-vvvvvvvv-hhhhhhh,” a rush of air that is only slightly modified by our lips and tongues.[94]

The voice of shofar is, similarly, only a rush of air slightly modified by our lips and tongues and amplified by a conical horn. It is, perhaps, as much of The Name as we are able to hear as humans, the rest of the name is on spiritual or dimensional bandwidths to which mortals cannot attune.

While the Temple still stood, the High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur and utter The Name. Now, during the Days of Awe, we must each be our own high priest and enter the Holy of Holies that is indwelling within each of us. There, we can hear “yyyyyyyyy-hhhhhhhh-vvvvvvvv-hhhhhhh” – the Eternal Exhalation of shofar – as The Name whispered in a rush of air. Amen.

When you hear shofar today, remember standing at Sinai and hearing, for the first time, “I am yyyyyyyyy-hhhhhhhh-vvvvvvvv-hhhhhhh, your God…”

Meditation for Ninth Day of Elul

“...the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God.”[95]

Most Jewish communities do not sound shofar on Shabbat. The rabbinic prohibition against doing so is assurance against someone carrying shofar or doing anything else that might be construed as work; it is a fence around Torah to protect the sanctity of the day of rest.

Even if you drive or do other “work” on Shabbat, you may want to refrain from shofar blowing on Shabbat as a symbolic way of embracing the day of rest.

Hearing shofar is a call to make teshuvah, the making of amends for our errors. But on Shabbat, we do not have to make anything; we simply have to be.

While teshuvah is a worthy goal, pursuing it relentlessly may be counterproductive. I have heard that a historian studied the records left by the wagon trains of American settlers moving west across the great plains and mountains. The records indicate that the groups that observed the Sabbath, resting themselves and their horses one day out of seven, actually made the journey in less time, on average, than those who hitched-up their wagons every day. Amen.

When you hear shofar today, unhitch your wagon to enjoy the blessings of the moment.

Meditation for Tenth Day of Elul

“Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall cease from labor, in order that your ox and your ass may rest…”[96]

Including a day of rest for animals was one of the ethical revolutions of the Torah. In this restatement of the Fourth Commandment, animals are not just a beneficiary of the Sabbath; they are the reason for it. While the ox and ass are named in this verse, we should understand it to apply to all livestock, including sheep.

A shofar can be made from the horn of any animal whose horn has a bone core, with the exception that it cannot be made from horns of the cow, ox or similar bovines. Most often, it is made from the horn of a sheep, particularly a ram’s horn.

Long before Sinai, when our ancestors discovered that blowing into a horn could produce sound, they made its call a central feature of their primitive rituals. They believed that blowing the horn enabled them to magically acquire the animal’s power and gain control over the forces of nature.

Our rituals have become more sophisticated today, and we do not recognize animals as avatars of the divine. If we listen, however, we can still hear the voice of the animal resonating from its horn whenever we blow shofar. The essence of the living animal that remains in the horn is what distinguishes the sound of a shofar from that of a metallic trumpet.

When you rest on Shabbat, let the essence of the animal from which your horn came rest too. Amen.

When you hear shofar today, offer a blessing in honor of the animals that provide horns for shofarot.

Meditation for Eleventh Day of Elul

“You shall make the altar… Make its horns on the four corners, the horns to be of one piece with it; and overlay it with copper.”[97]

There are spiritual lessons hidden in even the most prosaic verses of Torah; what can we learn from the altar horns that will illuminate our understanding of shofar horns and our blasts during the Days of Awe?

Some scholars say the horns are vestiges from when our altars were shaped like horned animals such as the Golden Calf. Others posit that the beaten metal horns are a legacy from when altars were decorated with horns of animals that had been sacrificed upon them. Certainly, horns are symbolic of power and fertility and have been used in mythology and ritual since very primitive times. From this we learn that shofar connects us to one of the oldest, most deeply rooted needs we have as humans. If the use of horns did not serve us, the practices would not have survived thousands of years.

The altar horns are called “keren” in Hebrew. Keren means “horn,” but also “ray” or any sort of eminence. From “keren” comes the Latin “cornu” meaning “horn” or “point” and the English word “corner.” Architecturally, the altar horns are part of the ancient tradition of erecting prominences at the corners of structures, like the acroteria that add emphasis to corners of classical Greek pediments. Where structure meets sky, the horns act as a sort of visual and spiritual lightning rod or antennae to join heaven and earth.

That they were copper suggests the horns could conduct electromagnetism, so why not other energetic fields as well? From this we learn that shofar blasts, in the acoustical spectrum of the electromagnetic field, serve as focal points to our worship at the altar of prayer.

Perhaps the Temple’s alter had horns similar to these on the corners of a small limestone altar from Megiddo in Israel, dating from the Iron Age (1000-586 BCE).[98]

There were four keren on the altar, and four calls on shofar – tekiah, shevarim, teruah, and tekiah gedolah. Talmudic discourse indicates that shofarot are made of keren, the horn of an animal. But not all keren, such as the horns of cattle, are acceptable for use as a shofar. Keren is of the physical plane; shofar enters the spiritual plane when it channels our prayers. From this we learn that we must breathe life and intention into our horns in order to imbue them with ritual meaning.

From other references in Torah, we know that blood of sacrificed animals was dashed against the horns during Temple rituals, and that someone grasping the horns was to be granted asylum and refuge from attackers. From this, we learn that shofar sounds must be energetic blasts, just as the blood was dashed against the horns and not dribbled. Also, that hearing the blasts of shofar offers us relief and protection from the evil inclination.

Finally, we learn that the shofar has to be of one piece with our worship. We must enter into the shofar blasts and hear them, feel them, and become one with them. Our offerings on the altar, then and now, are made holy by wholeness. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, visualize yourself grasping the horns of the altar. From what do you seek refuge?

Meditation for Twelfth Day of Elul

“In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe complete rest, a sacred occasion commemorated with loud blasts…and you shall bring an offering by fire to the Lord.”[99]

This is one of the injunctions establishing the Holy Day of Rosh Hashanah. An “offering by fire” originally required the sacrificial burning of an animal on the altar in the Mishkon, the Tent of Meeting, and later at the Temple in Jerusalem.

How are we to observe this commandment today when we no longer observe Temple-based rites?

Now, our offering is tefillah, prayer. However the mere recitation of words from the prayer book does not satisfy the requirement. To serve as our sacrifice, our prayers must be offered with our souls on fire.

The High Holy Day liturgy says “Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tzadakah” – repentance, prayer and performance of good deeds – temper the harsh decree as our record is reviewed by the Judge. Taking this T-cubed path can reduce sin to ash that is rich in nutrients that can be mixed into the soil of our soul to support growth.

Authentic prayer is a catalyst that creates transformation without mechanical effort, allowing us to pray while still observing complete rest. It is also, like fire, an exothermic reaction that releases energy in the form of teshuvah. The loud blasts of shofar amplify our prayer; it is the bellow that blows air onto a spark to create flame. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, breathe deeply to fully oxygenate your blood and stoke the fire of teshuvah.

Meditation for Thirteenth Day of Elul

“Then you shall sound the horn loud; in the seventh month, on the tenth day of the month – the Day of Atonement – you shall have the horn sounded throughout your land…You shall proclaim release throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you; each of you shall return to his holding and each of you shall return to his family.”[100]

“Jubilee” is derived from the Hebrew “yovel,” a word that also means “horn.” In ancient Israel, the yovel created a periodic redistribution of economic wealth. It blocked the establishment of a landed aristocracy, for example, because land-use rights that had been acquired over five decades returned to the clan to which the land had originally been assigned. Slaves and indentured servants were granted their freedom. Debts were forgiven. And everyone had an equal opportunity to make a new beginning.

What would our country be like if we observed a nation-wide yovel? Would the land be returned to the Sioux, Chumash and Iroquois? Would the time remaining until the yovel be so factored into loans as to make the forgiveness of debts meaningless? Would it really be justice if giving freedom to the indentured meant turning them out onto the street without the means to support themselves?

There is one aspect of the yovel that is still available to us, and we can enjoy its blessing each Yom Kippur and without waiting until the fiftieth year – the opportunity to make a new beginning.

We are granted the right to return to the spiritual home of our ancestors; I am not referring to the Land of Israel, but to live in a sukkot shalom – a divine shelter of peace. Our emotional debts – all the baggage we carry about the “could haves,” “should haves,” and “would haves” of human existence – can be blasted into forgiveness by shofar. And we are granted the right to choose freedom from our servitude to addictions and false gods. We truly have an opportunity to make a new beginning.

Some of us may feel so overwhelmed by the magnitude of the opportunity presented by the yovel that we become paralyzed and choose to stay in bondage. So here is a suggestion. It is not essential, nor is it likely, that we will be able to completely liberate ourselves in a single moment of atonement. Be we don’t have to – it is enough to take even a small step into the yovel. You will have another opportunity next year, God willing, to take another step along the spiraling path towards liberation.

Rabbi Mordecai Findley has put it this way: instead of praying to be freed from all sin in the coming year, “pray for a better class of sin,” for the ability to make better choices and take healthier actions in our lives.[101] When we do this for ourselves, we also become better able to “proclaim liberty throughout the land and to all the inhabitants thereof.” Amen.

As you hear shofar today, meditate on the meaning of the yovel in your life. What can you do to liberate yourself? How can you help others enjoy the blessings of liberty?

Meditation for Fourteenth Day of Elul

“Have two silver trumpets made; make them of hammered work. They shall serve you to summon the community and to set the divisions in motion. When both are blown in long blasts, the whole community shall assemble before you at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting; and if only one is blown, the chieftains, heads of Israel’s contingents, shall assemble before you. But when you sound short blasts, the divisions encamped on the east shall move forward; and when you sound short blasts a second time, those encamped on the south shall move forward. Thus short blasts shall be blown for setting them in motion, while to convoke the congregation you shall blow long blasts, not short ones. The trumpets shall be blown by Aaron’s sons, the priests; they shall be for you an institution for all time throughout the ages. When you are at war in your land against an aggressor who attacks you, you shall sound short blasts on the trumpets, that you may be remembered before the Lord your God and be delivered from your enemies. And on your joyous occasions – your fixed festivals and new moon days – you shall sound the trumpets over your burnt offerings and your sacrifices of well-being. They shall be a reminder of you before your God: I, the Lord, am your God.”[102]

Rosh Hashanah occurs on the new moon of Tishrei, the first day of the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar.

Torah commands us to sound two kinds of wind instruments; the ram’s horn (shofar) and the silver trumpets described in this verse. Now, the only Jewish rites in which we still use silver trumpets are during b’nai mitzvot, wedding parties, and other joyous occasions. When we need a more spiritually potent instrument, we rely today on shofar.

During the High Holy Days, shofar still summons us to assemble. The blasts call us to teshuvah, to set ourselves in motion to return to wholeness. In our struggles to overcome moral weakness, fear, addiction, and other character defects, shofar remembers us to our Higher Power and strengthens us in our struggles with our enemies within.

Happy are the people who know the sound of shofar, for we will enjoy the new moon of Tishrei as a day of sounding and remembering shofar, and will experience a sacrifice in honor of our well-being. Happy are the people who sound and hear teruah, shofar blasts, as “an institution for all time throughout the ages.” Amen.

As you hear shofar today, meditate on what you will offer as your sacrifice of well-being.

Meditation for Fifteenth Day of Elul

“Surely, this instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too difficult for you, nor is it far off. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may hear it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may hear it?’ No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.”[103]

In an important way, shofar is not the horn, but the energy that flows through the horn. It is both the mechanical energy of acoustic vibration and the spiritual energy of prayer.

Many people have told me, “I could never blow shofar, it’s just too difficult. I could never get to where I could sound it. I guess it is just not in me.” I remind them of the above words of Moses. Then I add, “The shofar is already in you. You are the shofar.”

In physics, objects each have a fundamental frequency at which they will vibrate. If the pitch of a sound impinging on an object is a harmonic of the object’s fundamental frequency, the sound will set the object into motion. As the sound continues, more and more of its energy is transferred into the object, and the amplitude of the object’s vibration increases. This is called resonance.

In the same way, each soul has a fundamental frequency that resonates to the sound of shofar. Our fundamental frequencies are not across the sea or in the heavens; they are programmed into every one of us. Activated by the harmonics of shofar, the amplitude of our vibrations increases and causes us to tremble.

This effect only occurs, however if we hear and listen to the sound. Otherwise, our inattentiveness and distractions act as dampers to suppress any spiritual resonance. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, remove all stops from your hearing and tune into shofar’s resonance with your soul.

Meditation for Sixteenth Day of Elul

“On the seventh day, march around the city seven times, with the priests blowing the horns. And when a long blast is sounded on the horn – as soon as you hear that sound of the horn… the people shall advance, every man straight ahead.”[104]

I am not a pacifist, for I understand the need to take up arms in self-defense. Our taking of Jericho and the rest of Canaan, however, was an outright war of conquest. The words, “God is on our side” have been spoken by too many aggressors for them to justify our actions. We can only redeem our history if we learn from it to improve our character – individually and as a nation.

One way we can do this is by hearing shofar as a call for peace.

Mosaic Floor of Ancient Shalom Al Yisrael Synagogue

“Shalom al Yisrael – Peace upon Israel” appears in mosaic floor of 6^th century synagogue in Jericho. Note lulav, menorah, and shofar – ritual implements from the Temple and common graphic motifs in early synagogues.

Jericho has fallen and been rebuilt many times throughout the ages. During the Roman era, a synagogue was built in the city with a tile mosaic of a shofar and Hebrew letters spelling out, “For the peace of Israel.”

In my meditation, I see a conference table. The descendents of Jacob and the descendents of Ishmael[105] sit around it, each clan stiff-necked and barricaded behind stony walls of suspicion and intransigence. When their words no longer translate, one tribe stands, and walks around the conference table, an exercise that allows them to see their adversary and the possibilities from all possible angles. Then, the other tribe walks around the table and also gets new perspectives.

For six days, wordlessly, they take turns circumambulating and watching the other and looking into their own hearts. Then, on Friday evening, at the intersection of the seventh day of the Islamic calendar and the seventh day of the Hebrew calendar, the customary Jewish proscription against shofar on Shabbat is suspended because the mitzvah of making peace is given precedence. The two tribes circle the table together, seven times, like a bride and groom under a chuppah – bridal canopy, each taking in the full essence of the other.

Then, when a long blast is sounded, the walls of separation fall. Each people advances, every man and woman straight ahead, to embrace cousins. Together, they rebuild a new Jericho with an inscription, “For the peace of all the children of Abraham.”

It is only a vision, but I have been to the mountaintop and I have seen the promising land of peace. May it come speedily and in our own lifetime. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, listen closely for someone who is responding with his or her call for a truce, forgiveness, and peace.

Meditation for Seventeenth Day of Elul

“[Gideon] divided the three hundred men into three columns and equipped each with a ram’s horn and an empty jar… Gideon and the hundred men with him arrived at the outposts of the camp… They sounded the horns and smashed the jars that they had with them, and the three columns blew their horns and broke their jars…[and] they shouted… They remained standing where they were, surrounding the camp; but the entire camp ran about yelling, and took to flight. For when the three hundred horns were sounded, the Lord turned every man’s sword against his fellow…and the entire camp fled…”[106]

There is nothing like the surprise attack to confound an adversity. Mindful of this principle, our shofar blasts have been designed to yield maximum strategic value in our

struggles with Satan, the evil inclination and angel of death, who acts as the chief prosecutor arguing the case against us when we are judged by God on Rosh Hashanah.

Our sages offer many strategies for confounding Satan. We are told, for example, that God will slay the angel of death at the end of time and that, since “The Great Shofar” will herald the end of time; our vigorous and repeated blasts during Rosh Hashanah bewilder Satan into thinking its time is up.

In the synagogue, we announce the approach of each new month on the Sabbath before the new moon. But we do not announce the coming of Tishrei because it coincides with Rosh Hashanah and we do not want to remind Satan of this fact. Similarly, we do not sound shofar on the final day of Elul, the day before Rosh Hashanah, in order to confuse Satan into thinking it has missed its date in court to testify against us.

I cannot attest to the effectiveness of these gambits. However, there is a spiritual offensive in which I do have faith: teshuvah, returning to the light of Torah. Shofar calls us to create teshuvah, and hearing shofar daily throughout Elul gives us many opportunities to atone for our sins. As the Lubavitcher Rebbe Menachem M. Schneerson says, “When a Jew repents properly prior to the onset of Rosh Hashanah, then he is already assured that he will be written and sealed in the Book of the Righteous. In other words, by repenting prior to Rosh Hashanah, his judgment for the good was already assured during the month of Elul.”

When this happens, the prosecutor shows up in court only to be surprised that the case has already been dismissed. Amen.

When you hear shofar today, remember that cases can be settled before the Court date. Make the most of this opportunity for teshuvah.

Meditation for Eighteenth Day of Elul

“Abner then called to Joab, ‘Must the sword devour forever? You know how bitterly it’s going to end! How long will you delay ordering your troops to stop the pursuit of their kinsmen?’ …Joab then sounded the horn, and all the troops halted; they ceased their pursuit of Israel and stopped the fighting.”[107]

In too many chapters of Torah, the ram’s bugle calls the charge into battle. Fortunately, it can also sound the call for a truce. We must be like Abner and speak the truth to warmongers and those who profit from fear. There are no winners and losers in war, only the dead and the survivors.

We are given a choice between life and death, and are commanded to choose life. To the question, “Must the sword devour forever?,” we must answer, “NO!”

A Christian once asked me to blow shofar in his church where they were trying to understand the meaning of the shofar blasts at Sinai. Most of the preaching during the Sunday worship service was in a language I did not know, but I was startled by the minister’s frequent shouts, fist in the air, for, “Victory!” Sensitized by history and the congregation’s unfamiliar ethnic culture, I became frightened and wondered if he was exhorting his congregation to go to war against Jews.

Eventually I realized that, indeed, he was calling them to battle. But the enemy was not you nor I, anyone nor any nation. It was a call for victory in the eternal struggle against temptation to do wrong and an exhortation to his flock to struggle against the evils of sin, oppression, and injustice. His call for “Victory,” in reality, was what we also hope to hear when we blow shofar during the Days of Awe.

In reflecting on how his words had seemed, initially, like a threat, I realized how often the sword is drawn simply because neighbors do not understand their neighbors, even when they and we are calling for the same things. It is my prayer that we are allowed to hear shofar as the voice of “Victory” announcing the end of fear and that the sword had been forever sheathed. Amen.

When you hear shofar today, listen for the call of Victory in your life.

Meditation for Nineteenth Day of Elul

“David whirled with all his might before the Lord…Thus David and all the House of Israel brought up the Ark of the Lord with shouts and with blasts of the horn.”[108]

My sister, Hanna Chusid, quoting her teachers, explains why we remember the yahrzeit – the anniversary of a person’s death – rather than their birth date by saying, “When a person dies, their essence becomes more available to all of us.” Applying this concept to the Temple in Jerusalem, the reality of its loss makes its sanctity more accessible to each of us.

In David’s time, only the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. Now, we are each capable of entering the inner precincts through prayer and meditation.

Then, the King and the priests performed the sin offerings to propitiate the Lord. Now, we must each perform teshuvah, tefillah and tzadakah – repairing the rifts in our soul, offering sincere prayer, and performing acts of justice – as our sacrifice.

Then, the presence of the Eternal was most accessible within the walls of a structure. Now, we can also know the indwelling presence of Spirit.

It is fitting and proper that we mourn the destruction of the Temples. Yet we redeem the loss whenever we worship with all our might before the Lord and praise God with cheers and blasts of shofar. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, visualize yourself in the presence of the Ark and offer praise.

Meditation for Twentieth Day of Elul

“But Absalom sent agents to all the tribes of Israel to say, “When you hear the blast of the horn, announce that Absalom has become king in Hebron.”[109]

“Joab…took three darts in his hand and drove them into Absalom’s chest. Absalom was still alive in the thick growth of the terebinth, when ten of Joab’s young arms-bearers closed in and struck at Absalom until he died. Then Joab sounded the horn, and the troops gave up their pursuit of the Israelites; for Joab held the troops in check.”[110]

This pair of verses marks the beginning and end of Absalom’s rebellion against King David. The references to shofar do not, at first reading, advance the narrative or appear to impart spiritual or moral instruction.

Regarding Biblical references to shofar, Cyrus Adler says in his scholarly paper, “The Shofar – Its Use and Origins,” published by the Smithsonian Institution in 1893, that, “the shofar is not as frequently mentioned as the constancy of its use for certain purposes might lead us to expect. The infrequency of its mention is in a way, however, a sort of evidence of the frequency of its use. The blowing of the bugle is as regular a part of a charge as the horses on which the cavalry is mounted. Its picturesqueness would naturally strike the mind of a poet and so references to the shofar in the prophetical books are numerous.”

Understood this way, these references to shofar are used as literary devices to mark the beginning and end of an episode.

We can still use shofar this way, to mark the beginning of new chapters in our lives and the end of behaviors or attitudes that are no longer healthy or useful to us. This is shofar’s call to teshuvah, a call to end our inner struggles with the parts of ourselves that are in rebellion against our higher purposes. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, hear its voice announce a new beginning. What rebellion – against yourself, your family, your community, or God – are you ready to end?

Meditation for Twenty-First Day of Elul

“And in that day, a great ram’s horn shall be sounded; and the strayed who are in the land of Assyria and the expelled who are in the land of Egypt shall come and worship the Lord on the holy mount, in Jerusalem.”[111]

Sounding shofar recalls the prophetic vision of the ingathering of exiles. May the day not be distant, of course. But meanwhile, what are we to do until the Messiah comes?

The answer is, create tikkun olam – the healing of the world.

Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi has compared the world to a living organism. Within the world, each nation or tribe is an organ vital to the well-being of the organism. Similarly, each person is like a cell necessary to the functioning of the nation or tribe. If too many cells become unhealthy, the organ becomes diseased and can no longer do its part to sustain the whole organism.

Each of us lives, to one degree or another, in exile from ourselves. Our hearts argues with our heads. Our feet don’t follow our visions. And it is all too easy to close our eyes to truth. We put on psychological armor when we need extra protection, but forget to take it off when we among friends and loved ones.

We do not need to wait for the “great” ram’s horn to get started; even a very ordinary shofar will suffice. By hearing and heeding shofar’s call to teshuvah – the return from our exiles – we can move towards health and wholeness.

Then, when we pray, “May the one who creates peace in the heavens create peace on earth,” the reverse will also be true: by creating peace – wholeness – on earth, we create wholeness throughout all the worlds. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, listen for the faint voices of the parts of you that are in exile. Allow shofar to be a beacon to guide your fragmented self back into wholeness.

Meditation for Twenty-Second Day of Elul

“Cry with full throat, without restraint;

Raise your voice like a ram’s horn!

Declare to My people their transgression.

To the House of Jacob their sin.

“To be sure, they seek Me daily.

Eager to learn My ways.

Like a nation that does what is right,

That has not abandoned the laws of its God,

They ask Me for the right way,

They are eager for the nearness of God:

“Why, when we fasted, did You not see?

When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed?

“Because on your fast day

You see to your business

And oppress all your laborers!

Because you fast in strife and contention,

And you strike with a wicked fist!

Your fasting today is not such

As to make your voice heard on high.

“Is such the fast I desire,

A day for men to starve their bodies?

Is it bowing the head like a bulrush

And lying in sackcloth and ashes?

Do you call that a fast,

A day when the Lord is favorable?

“No, this is the fast I desire:

To unlock the fetters of wickedness,

And untie the cords of the yoke

To let the oppressed go free;

To break off every yoke.

It is to share your bread with the hungry.

And to take the wretched poor into your home;

When you see the naked, to cloth him,

And not to ignore your own kin.”[112]

The words of the prophet are as urgent today as when first spoken. In our individual quest to feel the nearness of God, we must not forget the needs of others. Our liturgy for the Days of Awe tells us that we do not merit Divine mercy by prayer and repentance alone; we must also perform tzadakah. While often translated as charity, a fuller meaning of this concept is to take actions that lead to justice. When we hear shofar, it calls us to tzadakah.

Even when we do not hear shofar, we must be the shofar and cry out against injustice with our own voices. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, become the shofar and raise your voice as a call to action. What steps will you take today and in the coming year to create justice?

Meditation for Twenty-Third Day of Elul

“Thus said the Lord;

Stand by the roads and consider,

Inquire about ancient paths:

Which is the road to happiness?

Travel it, and find tranquility for yourselves.

But they said, ‘We will not.’

“And I raised up watchmen for you:

‘Harken to the sound of the horn!’

But they said, ‘We will not.’

“Hear well, O nations,

And know, O community, what is in store for them.”[113]

The road to happiness is not the road of comfort and ease sought by so many in our society. Instead, the prophet maps for us the road of living according to God’s commandments and in moment-to-moment Torah-consciousness.

The ancient path is rigorous. It requires us to perform acts of loving kindness without measure. To seek peace and pursue it. To leave the corners of our fields unharvested so the widow and orphan can feed themselves. To care for the sick. To love the stranger in our midst. To maintain fair weights and measures. To redeem the enslaved. To refrain from poisoning the land. To remove the stumbling blocks before the blind.

Torah-consciousness is Jewish spirituality. There is a prevailing illusion that the spiritual path goes from peak to peak of blissful awareness of the Divine. If we pursue only those moments of awe, we loose sight that all of life is holy, and that we can sanctify every moment by observing mitzvot and lifting up holy sparks.

The watchman has blown the shofar: The ice caps are melting, yet we maintain our addiction to fossil fuels. We do not maintain the levees because we cannot afford sandbags, yet war profiteers stuff their sacks with gold. Our leaders lie and are caught in their lies, but are not held accountable.

Soon after Jeremiah issued his warning, we were led away as captives to Babylon. Today, as I write this, we are again captives in Babylon, in the quagmire of a war without end in sight.

Oh, indeed, the watchman has sounded the horn. Hear it well for the prophet has told us what will happen if we fail to head its clarion call. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, reflect on how you can help our nation return to the path of happiness.

Meditation for Twenty-Fourth Day of Elul

“All you peoples, clap your hands, raise a joyous shout for God… God ascends midst acclamation; the Lord to the blast of the horn.”[114]

This Psalm is typically read in the Rosh Hashanah liturgy just before the blowing of shofar. It is an appropriate verse for the occasion because of its reference to shofar and reiteration of two major themes of the High Holy Days: God’s coronation (malchuyot) and glorification (shofarot). Beneath the surface, however, it is also a parable about the power of teshuvah, repentance.

While most Psalms are attributed to King David, this is one of eleven written by or dedicated to the “Sons of Korah.” Numbers[115] tells how Korah orchestrated a rebellion against the leadership of Moses. While the language of his challenge is an intriguing appeal to a more egalitarian society, midrash expounds that Korah was a demagogue who clothed himself as a populist to advance his own agenda. God, apparently, agreed, for the ground, “opened its mouth and swallowed them up with their households.”

Yet, when Korah’s story is restated several chapters later, we learn that, “the sons of Korah, however, did not die.”[116] Not only did they become psalmists, they merited producing the prophet Samuel among their descendants.

Midrash explains the discrepancy by saying the sons honored their father by appearing to follow his lead, but realized that his cause was, ultimately, a rebellion against God. This led the sons to feel remorse and to feel the stirring of repentance in their hearts. While they remained in the rebel camp, even this small stirring of teshuvah, repentance, was sufficient to merit God’s mercy. Instead of going to Sheol, the pit, when the earth swallowed them, they were preserved in a special place in Gehenon – a place of perdition – where they composed and sang their songs of gratitude and praise to God.[117]

During the Days of Awe, we are like the sons of Korah, neither condemned to Sheol nor fully pardoned, dependent upon God’s mercy. We read their Psalm for its reassurance that there is yet hope for us. If the sound of shofar creates even a small stirring of repentance in our hearts, there is yet hope for us. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, have the courage to look into even the darkest corners of your soul and know that there is yet hope.

Meditation for Twenty-Fifth Day of Elul

“Happy is the people who know the joyful shout; O Lord, they walk in the light of Your presence.”[118]

This verse is read in many congregations after shofar is blown.

The shofar blast is a joyful shout.

We do not know what tomorrow brings, but we have had the gift of life for the past year; so we shout with joy.

We have enough breath within us to blow the horn. The Ba’al Shem Tov says that “the difference between nature and miracles is its frequency.” So we shout for the miracle of breath.

Despite our disappointments with God, our fears of God, and even our anger at God, we still shout. Rabbi Jonathon Omar-Man says, “God always answers our prayers, even if sometimes the answer is ‘No’.” So we shout with joy because our God is a true God.

Oy! We have sinned. The alphabet is not long enough to enumerate all the ways we have missed the mark. But we know that through tzadakah, tefillah and teshuvah – acts of justice, prayer, and sincere effort to improve our ways – we can avert the harsh decree. So we shout with joy because we have a merciful God.

There is no problem too enormous, no attitude too intractable, and no problem too complex to resist being bathed and purified in the sonic mikvah of the shofar. Happy, happy, happy are the people who know how to release their cares into the joyful shout.

Even when it cries, the shofar blast is a joyful shout. It is the raucous, joyous cry of a newborn year.

Yes, the shofar blast is a joyous shout. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, feel the joyous shout wash your soul.

Meditation for Twenty-Sixth Day of Elul

“Nebuchadnezzar spoke… ‘Now if you are ready to…worship the statue of gold that I have set up when you hear the sound of the horn…well and good; but if you will not worship, you shall at once be thrown into a burning fiery furnace, and what god is there that can save you from my power?’”[119]

In most of these meditations, I have used the first person plural, “we,” after the manner of making our confessions as a people during the Days of Awe. Here, however, I am confronted with a personal recognition that I must confess as an “I.”

In my enthusiasm to understand all the teachings of shofar, I have come perilously close to making it into an idol or at least a physical presence in which I recognize the divine. As I read the story in Daniel of Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, a tongue of the super-heated furnace in which they were tested leaps out and singes me as a warning against worshiping a physical object, whether made of gold or of common horn.

It is not the instrument that makes shofar precious. Neither does the breath that animates the calls nor even the blasts that we are commanded to hear – they too are of the physical realm. What makes shofar dear is the kavanah, the intention we have to obey the HaShem’s commandment to remember shofar.

Maimonides says the following about the kavanah of shofar: “If the person hearing had the intention of fulfilling his obligation, but the person blowing did not have the intention of facilitating the latter’s performance of the teshuvah, or the person blowing had the intention of facilitating his colleague’s performance of the teshuvah, but the person hearing did not have the intention of fulfilling his obligation, the person hearing did not fulfill his obligation. Rather, both the person hearing and the one allowing him to hear must have the proper intention.”[120]

Hearing a blast of the horn had no power over our three friends in Babylon because it was neither sounded nor heard with the kavanah of remembering God’s revelation at Sinai. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, concentrate on your intention to hear its voice in fulfillment of the mitzvah – God’s commandment.

Meditation for Twenty-Seventh Day of Elul

“As for the builders, each had his sword girded at his side as he was building. The trumpeter stood beside me. I said… ‘There is much work and it is spread out; we are scattered over the wall, far from one another. When you hear a trumpet call, gather yourselves to me at that place; our God will fight for us!’”[121]

I was only eight or nine years old the first time I read the story of Ezra and Nehemiah in my Child’s Book of Bible Heroes. There was something that set the two of them apart from other Bible heroes, something attractive to me even as a young child.

Many of the heroes in the book were men (that’s how they taught it back then) of faith who wrestled with ideas I could not yet understand. And others were exciting action figures who could triumph against seemingly impossible odds. However, the resolute pioneers who returned to Zion from exile in Babylon had the best qualities of all the other heroes combined. Moved by faith, they built something tangible, practical, and magnificent while fighting off an enemy at the same time. They were our good guys, and they were cool!

Now, I too wrestle with ideas that I still don’t understand. And against all odds, I am also a survivor of too many struggles to recall. But Ezra and Nehemiah and their followers are still my heroes.

Only now I know that the true heroes are not just those we read about in books. Heroes are also very ordinary men, women and children who quietly and steadfastly live their lives one day at a time, build their communities, create tikkun olam – the repair of the world, and defend the weak, the hungry and the needy even while struggling with questions of faith they do not understand.

It takes a real hero to listen to the call of the trumpet. Shofar asks, “Will you respond when your community needs you?” “What are you building?” “Are you engaged in a just struggle?” “With what tools have you girded yourself?” “Is this a wall that should be built or a wall that should be removed?” “Have we spread ourselves too thin?” “Are we too far from one another?”

The prophet says, “Our God will fight for us.” But first, he says, we have to respond to the trumpet call. The Hebrew term for, “that place” – “Ha’ Makom” – is also used as a name for God. Are you ready to gather at “That Place”? Are you listening for the call? Amen.

When you hear shofar today, listen to hear where you are called.

Meditation for Twenty-Eight Day of Elul

“Whoever would not worship the Lord God of Israel would be put to death, whether small or great, whether man or woman. So they took an oath to the Lord in a loud voice and with shouts, with trumpeting and blasts of the horn.”[122]

Asa, the King of Judah, was King Solomon’s great grandson. We are told that, “Asa did what was good and pleasing to the Lord his God.”[123] He rid Judah of altars to other gods, built defenses so “the land was untroubled for ten years,”[124] won a stunning victory over a much larger invading force, and restored the altar in the Temple in Jerusalem.

We are also told that, “He ordered Judah (the nation) to turn to the Lord God of their fathers and to observe the Teaching and the Commandment,”[125] and that, “All Judah rejoiced over the oath, for they swore with all their heart and sought Him with all their will.”[126] (Emphasis added.) These two statements seem at odds with each other.

If the people were in a mood to rejoice over their oath, why did they have to be ordered at the price of their lives to take the oath? Can true teshuvah, the return to God’s ways, really be ordered at the edge of a sword? It does not seem to work when Jews are forced to convert to another religion. During the Spanish Inquisition, for example, many people who sang the loudest in church continued to practice as crypto-Jews at home. One of the origins of the Kol Nidre prayer we recite on Yom Kippur was to release ourselves from vows that we were forced to make in order to preserve our lives.

Perhaps the reason for Asa’s ardor in imposing his Faith was that he, himself, had little faith. We are told that he eventually stopped trusting in God, bringing wars upon the country and illness upon himself as a consequence.[127]

Asa was not trying to convert gentiles; his order was to members of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin whose allegiance to the God of Israel had lapsed. Perhaps there may have been a more effective way for him to promote teshuvah. Instead of forcing the fallen to take an oath and then hear shofar, he should have tried blowing shofar first. For over three thousand years, its cutting cry had turned the children of Israel back to the Lord, God of their fathers and mothers, even without the threat of blood.

In the language of 12-Step programs, shofar’s calls work by “attraction, not promotion.” It’s the nonviolent alternative in teshuvah. Amen.

As you hear shofar today, feel gratitude for the freedom you have to decide for yourself whether “to observe the Teaching and the Commandment.” Then, make the right choice.

Meditation for Twenty-Ninth Day of Elul

Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah. It is customary to refrain from sounding the shofar on this day.

There are many legends that say this abstention is done to confuse the Satan – the accusing angel – so Satan will not know when to appear before God to present the evidence against us. For example:

“Not blowing the shofar on erev Rosh Hashanah confuses Satan, the Accuser. When he does not hear the shofar blasts on erev Rosh Hashanah, he becomes bewildered. He wonders if Rosh Hashanah has already passed. He believes that he missed the day on which HaShem judges the world, and that he passed up his chance of denouncing the Jewish people. Baffled and perplexed, he is speechless and remains silent.”[128]

Others offer a more prosaic explanation. For example:

“We do not blow shofar on erev Rosh Hashanah to make a distinction between the sound of the shofar during Elul, which was instituted by the Rabbis, and the sound of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah, which is a mitzvah of the Torah.”[129]

I find more inspiration from another explanation rooted in human nature: After nearly a month of hearing shofar, we may have become habituated to its sound. By refraining from blowing shofar today, the blasts we hear tomorrow will seem fresher and more powerful. Amen.

May you be written and sealed for a good year.

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1-5 – Blast, Break, Shatter, Blast

“On Rosh Hashanah you must be joyous… and on Rosh Hashanah you must weep.”[133]

There are four traditional patterns or types of blasts for sounding shofar on Rosh Hashanah: tekiah, shevarim, teruah, and tekiah gedolah:

PATTERN GRAPHIC NOTATION RYTHYM[134]

Tekiah _____________ tuuuuuu

Shevarim ____ ____ ____ u-tuuu, u-tuuu, u-tuuu

Teruah _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu

Tekiah Gedolah ___________________ tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

These calls are also notated as follows, read from right to left:

[135]

The first three motifs should have approximately the same overall duration. That is, each of the three parts of shevarim is about 1/3 the duration of tekiah, and all the trills in a teruah add up to the same duration as the tekiah. The tekiah gedolah should be sustained for a great a duration as possible. Examples of these motifs can be heard at www.HearingShofar.com and elsewhere on the internet.[136] There are many ethnic and regional variations of the calls; one, from the Ashkenazi tradition, is scored as follows:

[137]

Medieval manuscripts gave graphic depictions of the blasts:

13^th – 14^th Century: Great Machzor of Amsterdam, Amsterdam, Israelitische Houfdsynagoge uses acronyms and symbols (in second line) to notate shofar blasts.[138]

13^th Century: Codex Adler, Jewish Theological Seminary, New York, Codex no. 832, fol. 21b.

10^th Century: Siddur of Saadiah Gaon, Oxford, Codex Hunt 448, fol 149r.

Tekiah translates approximately into “blow” or “blast,” and describes a loud, single blow of the shofar. Tekiah shares its root with the word takua means “set” or “fixed” in its place, and can be translated as “to be fixed, driven into the ground,” in the sense that a blow with a mallet can drive a peg into the earth.[139] From this, we can understand that tekiah, in the sequence of shofar blasts, grounds us; it gives us a place of beginning and then helps anchor us in a new state of being after hearing the broken notes of shevarim and teruah.

“Tekiah also means to rivet, to connect with force. We want to connect our lives to the hidden realm, the world beyond renewal.”[140]

The duration of tekiah is typically two to three seconds, about the same time as an exhalation in normal breathing. Tekiah should be loud and piercing, as if you shouting forcefully to get someone’s attention, sound an alarm, or startle someone awake from a deep slumber.

Shevarim is the plural of the word shever that translates as “broken” Indeed, the single blast of tekiah is now broken into a sequence of three shorter wavering blasts delivered within a single breath. It is as if someone was insistently calling to you, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” or, depending on where you are in your process of teshuvah, “Beware! Beware! Beware!”

Teruah translates approximately as “shattered” and minces the shofar blast into very rapid short bursts of sound. In musical terms, teruah is a “tremolo,” a quivering effect produced by the rapid reiteration of the same tone.[141]

Teruah comes from the same root word as ra’uah that means “shaky" or “tremor” and brings to mind the trembling or powerful emotions one might feel while one is being judged or during a time of rapid transformation. It is also related to teraim, the Hebrew word for “shatter” as in, “Shatter them (tero’eim) with an iron rod.”[142]

With very different and equally meaningful connotations, teruah is also related to the Hebrew for “‘affection and friendship’ as in, ‘and the friendship (veteruot) of the King is with him.’[143] The commandment to blow the shofar expresses God’s great affection for us.”[144]

“Rosh Hashanah is called Yom Teruah, rather than Yom Tekiah, for the sound of the teruah – the whimpering sound of remorse and inner turmoil – perfectly symbolizes the spirit of Rosh Hashanah.”[145]

“Gedolah” means “BIG” or “GREAT,” and tekiah gedolah is distinguished from regular tekiah by being drawn out for as long as possible. It is analogous to the long blast of Exodus 19:13 that marked the departure of the Shechinah – Devine Presence – from Mt. Sinai after the acceptance of the Torah.[146]

“The long blast of the tekiah gedolah awakens HaShem’s mercy. The Torah tells us that at the giving of the Torah, “there was a sound of a shofar, increasing in volume to a great degree.”[147] The sages comment that the longer the sound went on, the stronger it became. This was unlike the sound produced by man: the longer he blows, the weaker the sound becomes. We blow a long tekiah with diminishing strength. What message are we sending with the diminishing sound of the shofar? After 210 years of Egyptian bondage, the Children of Israel did not listen to Moses, ‘because of shortness of breath [also translatable as “broken spirit”] and hard work.’[148] All the more so is it hard for us, after two thousand years of exile and oppression, to obey HaShem. The steadily weakening sound of the tekiah gedolah conveys this plea for HaShem’s compassion.”[149]

Shofar and Teshuvah

The High Holy Day liturgy says we have three tools that can help us avert the harshness of the decree by the divine Judge, and shofar is implicated in all three:

1. Teshuvah (repentance and correcting the errors of our ways) – Teshuvah requires us to take personal inventory, make amends for errors we have made, offer forgiveness to ourselves and to others, accept the genuine apologies of others, and set the intentions by which we wish to live in the coming year. Yet each of us is stuck, to one degree or another, in our ways. We do not change course easily. Shofar, then, is likened to the alarm that wakes the sleeping soul to take account of itself and return to the right path.

2. Tefillah (prayer and supplication) – Shofar is a type of unspoken prayer. The shofar service proclaims the majesty of God, begs that we be remembered with compassion, and pleads, in the metaphoric voice of a bleating sheep, that we are allowed to pass under the staff of our Shepherd.

3. Tzadakah (observing God’s commandments, including performance of charitable acts) – Hearing shofar fulfills the central mitzvah – commandment – of Rosh Hashanah. In addition, shofar blowers perform tzadakah when they enable others, especially the ill and shut-in, to fulfill the mitzvah of hearing shofar during the Days of Awe. There is a great need in most communities for shofar blowers who will visit the homes of the sick and the hospitals, nursing homes, prisons.[150]

When understood in this way, further metaphors can be employed to understand the relationship of shofar and teshuvah. For example, our sins often feel as weighty and unyielding as a huge block of stone. How can we ever be free of the burden?

· We begin with tekiah, which is like a mighty blast with a sledgehammer that can break the stone into chunks.

· Next, shevarim are like the repeated blows used to shatter each of the chunks into still smaller pieces.

· Then teruah is the rapid striking used to pulverize each of the pieces into small particles. As it is written, “My word…is like a hammer that shatters rock!”[151] Through teshuvah, our huge, immutable shortcomings are reduced to dust.

· But we should not leave our environment polluted with the dust of our sins. Instead, we can recycle the particles by gathering them together like cement and reshaping our intentions, our spirit, and our actions into a new, solid commitment for mindful living. This is the purpose of the tekiah that is sounded after each sequence of broken notes.[152]

There are other metaphors that are gentler yet no less effective. For example, our sins are like klipot, Hebrew for shells or husks; like barnacles, they have a hard shell and grip our souls tenaciously.[153] Shofar can remove them by immersing us in a sonic mikvah (ritual bath). Like the ultrasonic and acoustical techniques used in industry for cleaning,[154] the psychological, spiritual, and physical vibrations of the shofar blasts can wash away the grip of our sins so we can find the freedom or courage to perform teshuvah. While teshuvah work can occur anytime of year, the focused intensity of being in community for the High Holy Days infuses our efforts towards teshuvah with extra intensity. Still, people report that they spend the Days of Awe still feeling trapped by the sins of their past. For many of them, the spiritual wave of the shofar’s sonic mikvah provides energy that, in an instant, can free them from the grip of their past, give them hope, and boost their teshuvah-making into high gear.

Maimonides on the Shofar’s Call to Teshuvah

Awake, O you sleepers, awake from your sleep! O you slumberers, awake from your slumber. Search your deeds and turn in teshuvah. Remember your Creator, O you who forget the truth in the vanities of time and go astray all the year after vanity and folly that neither profit nor save. Look to your souls, and better your ways and actions. Let every one of you abandon his evil way and his wicked thought, which is not good.[155]

ANOTHER TRANSLATION

“Awake, ye sleepers, and ponder your deeds; remember your Creator and go back to him in penitence. Be not of those who miss realities in their pursuit of shadows and waste their years in seeking after vain things which cannot profit or deliver. Look well to your souls and consider your acts; forsake each of you his evil ways and thoughts, and return to God so that He may have mercy upon you.”[156]

The Code

The sequence in which the four types of blasts are sounded on Rosh Hashanah is a code. When understood, it provides a guide through the emotional and spiritual work of the High Holy Days. The code can be understood in many ways:

“Each series of blasts begins and ends with tekiah - a whole note. In between is shevarim and teruah - broken notes. This reflects a theme of Rosh Hashanah: We begin whole. Along the path of life we become broken (through pain, mistakes, loss, failure, illness, weakness, etc.). The end is whole; we will be whole again. There is hope.”[157]

“HaShem created man upright and flawless. Through his sins, man became warped and twisted. By turning to the shofar in teshuvah, he is straightened out again. This thought is reflected in the sounds of the shofar: tekiah-shevarim-teruah-tekiah. The first tekiah, a straight, clear sound, represents man’s original rectitude and virtue. The broken shevarim sound is indicative of the spiritual breakdown that comes as a result of sinning. This is followed by the sobbing teruah sound, which mirrors the sinner’s brokenheartedness, inner turmoil and deep remorse, the forerunners of teshuvah. The culmination is reached in the steady tone of the final tekiah, which signifies the inner tranquility of the ba’al teshuvah [penitent] whose missteps have been forgiven.”[158]

“The clear, straight sound of the tekiah suggests “love,” a person’s straightforward feeling of adoration. The shevarim-teruah sound represents “awe and fear” – a person who is afraid shakes and trembles. The sound of the shofar tells us to resolve anew to love HaShem and be in awe of Him, keeping His Torah and fulfilling His mitzvot.”[159]

“The Gemara says: In a place where ba’alei teshuvah are standing [in Heaven] the perfectly righteous cannot stand. [160] The Shelah says that the straight sound of the first tekiah symbolizes the tzaddik who has not sinned. The broken shevarim sound stands for the sins that cause an inner breakup in a person’s soul, which leads to the weeping sound of the teruah. When he does teshuvah, he is straightened out again like the second tekiah sound. The final tekiah gedolah indicates that a ba’al teshuvah is on a higher level than a tzaddik who has never sinned.”[161]

“Each of the three shofar notes denotes the soul in a different stage of spiritual well-being. The unbroken, unwavering sound of the tekiah indicates that the soul was created pure and straight. Any impurities, crookedness, or spiritual malady was introduced by the sufferer himself. The broken groan of the shevarim calls to mind the moaning of the sick, while the staccato sobbing of the teruah represents uncontrolled crying over the death of a dear one. Nevertheless, at the very end, the tekiah is repeated to teach that God is always ready to receive the penitent who sincerely attempts to return to his original state of spiritual purity.”[162]

“The shofar cries out… “I was whole, I was broken, even smashed to bits, but I shall be whole again.”[163]

“Grace – Judgment – Compassion – Grace”[164]

God reigns. God reigned. God will reign forever. [165]

“Rav Kook once explained the order of the shofar-blowing on Rosh Hashanah by relating each blast to a major stage in world history. All of history may be divided up into three periods, corresponding to the three parts of the verse:

‘God reigns; God reigned; God will reign forever.’[166]

“‘God reigned’. This refers to His sovereignty in the past, before the sin of Adam… This is the first tekiah – the ancient, simple, constant blast.

“Likewise, in the end of days, the era of the tekiah will return. After all the tribulations of history, the simple, pure tekiah will be heard again. God will be King over the entire world. This is the future period of ‘God will reign forever’.

“In between the two constant tekiah blasts, however, comes the difficult intermediate stage. Here we struggle to attain the level of ‘God reigns’ – in the present. This period corresponds to the broken shevarim blows and the weeping of the teruah blasts. It is a volatile era, wracked by anxieties and doubts, alternating progress and failure.

“This is the meaning of the verse, ‘Fortunate is the people who knows the teruah’.[167] Fortunate are those who know how to overcome all misfortune, who know how to transcend the teruah blasts of war and danger. Despite all doubts and confusion, ‘they walk in the light of Your Presence.’”[168]

ABBA, ABBA HAVE PITY![169]

Said the Ba’al Shem Tov

Tekiah –

a simple scream

Abba, Abba have pity!

Abba, Abba, save!

And this simple scream

needs no words,

no further modulation,

only to scream

so as to unite

with the sound of Creation

and the thunder of Revelation

and the calling of Redemption

The great AMEN.

Tekiah is the name

and the grace of Abraham.

He is kind and warm and gentle.

Shevarim is the name Elohim,

and the terror of Isaac,

his sighs

at the binding on the altar.

He is afraid yet wants to take our place

in the rigors of the judgment.

And Teruah is Jacob,

all broken into tribes,

his weeping for Rachel, for Joseph,

for Dinah, for Shimon;

His blessing for which he had to

risk so much

yet also the Compassion of Yhwh.

Grace - Rigors-Mercy - Grace

Grace - Rigors - Grace

Grace - Mercy - Boundless Grace

All begins and ends in grace

Thus in the deepest, least verbal way

the ear can hear

the heart can be one

the innards are stirred

and together they scream.

Abba, Abba take pity!

Abba, Abba, save!

So we scream as loud as we can

and echo the shofar

in a way no one but God can hear

Abba, Abba pity, save!

Blessing Before Hearing Shofar

The ritual blowing of the shofar begins with the blessing:

Baruch atah Adonai Elohaynu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu lishmo-ah kol shofar.

Blessed are you, Eternal One our God, Universal Sovereign, who sanctifies us with holy ways and commands us to hear the voice of the shofar.

Note that the blessing is to “listen” or “hear” to shofar, not to “blow” shofar. The root word of “lishmo-ah” is the same as the root of “shema,” the prayer that harkens us to, “Listen, people of Israel! The Lord is our God. Our God is One.” The spiritual implications of this commandment to listen are explored in depth in Book 3 of Hearing Shofar: The Still Small Voice of the Ram’s Horn.

Before blowing the shofar for the first time in a service, the blessing above is followed by the shehechayanu blessing:

Baruch atah Adonai Elohaynu Melech ha-olam,

shehechayanu, v’kiyamanu, v’higiyanu lazman hazeh.

Blessed are you, Yah, spirit guide of the world. You have kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.

The Arrangement of Blasts

Each community has its own minhag (custom), and local tradition should be followed. In general, most communities use the following sequence of blasts:

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah[170]

If it is the last blast of a sequence, the final Tekiah is sustained as Tekiah Gedolah.

Many congregations expand this basic series of ten blasts so that the shofar is heard up to 100 times on each day of Rosh Hashanah. For example:

After Reading the Haftorah 30 Blasts

These are called the tekiot meyushav – sitting blasts – because the congregation, which has been seated during the reading of the Haftorah – reading from the Prophets – remains seated while the shofar is blown.

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah Gedolah

During the Musaf (Additional) Service 30 Blasts

These are called the tekiot me’ummad – standing blasts – because the congregation is standing for the Amidah prayers when these blasts are sounded. This section of the service has three parts: Machuyot (Majesty), trumpets God’s majestic rule. Zichronot (Remembrance), asks God to remember the Covenant and have mercy on us for the sake of our ancestors. Shofarot (The plural of “shofar”) alludes to divine revelation and our redemption – both heralded by the sounds of shofar. Each of these parts begins with short scriptural readings related to its theme, followed by sounding shofar.

Zichronot

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah

Malchuyot

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah

Shofarot

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah Gedolah

During Kaddish after Musaf 30 Blasts

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah Gedolah

At Conclusion of Services

10 Blasts

Tekiah Shevarim-Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah Gedolah

These multiple sets of multiple blasts form a persistent and concussive attack on spiritual complacency. The repetition of simple sound patterns work like a niggun, a wordless song, to help the listener express prayers that cannot be articulated with speech.

100 Blasts on Rosh Hashanah

How many blasts should be sounded on Rosh Hashanah? While Talmud requires a minimum of thirty, the practices of various sages and scattered communities added additional blasts to their liturgy. Thus, we have traditions that call for 30, 40, 41, 42, 60, 61, 70, 100, or 101 blasts.[171] The Yemenite tradition is to sound 41 blasts.[172] Take your pick.

Today, most communities sound shofar 100 times on each day of Rosh Hashanah. The origins of this custom are lost in time.[173] It is often explained that the 100 blasts are to counterbalance the 100 groans said to have come from Sisera’s mother described in Judges 5:28-30.[174] (See Chapter 1-7 – The Ewe’s Horn.) While she undoubtedly groaned, there is no basis for assuming her cries numbered 100, and I suspect that the 100 blasts tradition predates the events in the book of Judges.

In place of this legend, I offer the following thoughts:

Ten is a very significant number in our heritage. For example, there are:

· Ten utterances that created the world.[175]

· Ten commandments given at Sinai.

· Ten Sefirot in the kabbalah’s Tree of Life.

· Ten plagues struck Egypt before the Exodus.

· Ten Days of Awe – the period from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur.

· Ten people required for a minyan for group prayer.

· Ten times during Yom Kippur, in the time of the Temple, that the High Priest would pronounce the name of God to invoke divine pardon.[176]

100 is ten squared; a minyan of minyanim. It maintains the spiritual energy of 10 and multiplies it into an additional dimension. It is clearly a very significant number.

“During the month of Elul we blow ten blasts every day in order to evoke and to influence each of the ten powers of the soul.[177] On Rosh Hashanah, however, we blow 100 blasts, to influence each of the ten powers with all their aspects (each power is compounded of all the others, which yields ten times ten – i.e., wisdom of wisdom, understanding of wisdom, knowledge of wisdom, etc.).”[178]

But there are many other quantities that appear to have special significance in Torah. 40 days of rain in the time of Noah, and 40 years in the desert. 12 tribes of Israel, and 12 months of the year. 7 days of creation, and 7 patriarchs and matriarchs. With all these possibilities, why then are the shofar blasts in a base-10 numbering system?

Perhaps it is because we have ten fingers. Compared with 7, 12, 40 and all other numbers, 10 is the number most closely identified with the human body and is the fundamental system by which humans reckon.

Mark Twain said, “Humans are the only animals that blush, or need too.” And humans, apparently, are the only specie that has the opportunity for teshuvah, or the need for it. When seen in this manner, it seems only right that the shofar blasts, the call to teshuvah, be counted in the human-centric number system based on ten digits.

In ordinary time and space, our ten-fingered identities commit a plethora of sins. But in shofar time-space, an added dimension is offered us to stimulate teshuvah, and we are summoned by ten to the second power blasts of shofar.

“When a woman gives birth, she wails and cries out one hundred times. 99 of those cries are out of the conviction that she is going to die, and the final, hundredth cry is out of the realization that she is going to live after all. Similarly, we blow one hundred tekiot on Rosh Hashanah. 99 are blown out of our fear of the judgment of the day, but with the one-hundredth we demonstrate our confidence that we will emerge from our judgment blessed with life.”[179]

“…at the time of sounding the shofar and beseeching HaShem for mercy we should always keep in mind that we have fallen short of what we are capable of doing and the most compelling reason for having a positive verdict is simply that we ask for an undeserved present, GRATIS. The word for this is “b'chinom," whose letters Beis-Ches-Nun-Mem have the numerical value of 100.”[180]

Before hearing shofar on Rosh Hashanah, it is traditional to recite Psalm 47 that begins, “All you peoples, clap your hands, raise a joyous shout for God.” The gematria (numerical) value of the word translated as “clap,” the Hebrew word “kof” (spelled chof pay), is 100 and alludes to the 100 shofar blasts.[181]

Visualization of 100 Blasts

God’s revelation at Sinai so overwhelmed those witnessing the event that it jumbled their senses; Exodus 20:15 states that people “saw” the voice of shofar. An artist has recently given us the means to have a similar experience by transcribing the 100 shofar blasts of Rosh Hashanah into visual meditations. American-born artist Avraham Loewenthal paints and studies kabbalah in Tzfat, Israel (www.kabbalahart.com). He says his work create spiritual maps of transcendental harmonies that describe concepts of kabbalah and reflect meditative states of consciousness. He continues:

“In one of the many kavanot (meditations) of the shofar blowing, the sounding of the shofar is associated with the aspects of right, left, center, and completion. In kabbalistic spiritual language, the aspects right, left, and center represent spiritual states of consciousness, and not directions in space. Right corresponds metaphorically to our experience of thankfulness and our aspect of giving. Left corresponds metaphorically to our experience of lack and our aspect of receiving. The center is the harmony of right and left. These three aspects of giving, receiving, and harmony, come to completion in the fourth aspect of completion – the realization of unconditional love and oneness. These four stages of consciousness correspond to the four letters of the Divine Name, yud – hey – vav – hey.

“The kavanot of the shofar blowing breaks down on one level into the four aspects as follows:

tekiah------------long sound---------right/giving------------yud

shevarim---------3 sounds-----------left/receiving----------hey

teruah------------9 sounds-----------center/harmony--------vav

tekiah gedolah--extra long sound--completion/oneness—hey.

“In this painting, the 100 sounds of the shofar are depicted horizontally, starting from the bottom of the painting. One triangle represents the whole sound of the tekiah. 3 triangles represent the 3 sounds of the shevarim. 9 triangles represent the 9 short sounds of the teruah. The larger triangles represent the extra long sound of the tekiah gedolah.

“The long whole sound of the tekiah is associated with giving. The 3 broken sounds of the shevarim are associated with receiving. The 9 sounds of the teruah are associated with harmony. In addition to the shevarim being associated with receiving, it contains 3 sounds that correspond to all 3 aspects of giving, receiving, and harmony. In addition to the teruah being associated with harmony, its 9 sounds correspond to giving, receiving and harmony of giving + giving, receiving and harmony of receiving + giving, receiving and harmony of harmony.

“The right column is discussed in the kabbalah as the consciousness of thankfulness – feeling in our hearts overflowing with thankfulness. This corresponds to the sound of the tekiah, which is a whole sound. The left column corresponds to the sound of the shevarim that is the 3 broken cries of the shofar – our feelings of brokenness and lack. The center column corresponds to the teruah, whose sound is so broken that it is whole. The central column is associated with faith and prayer. It is taught in the kabbalah that when we reach our truest prayer of the heart, all our brokenness is brought to wholeness in the realization of complete oneness and unconditional love at the root of all creation.”

101 Blasts – A Sephardic Minhag

In some Sephardic communities, the minhag – custom – is to sound 101 shofar blasts. It is explained that 100 is the gematria (numerical) value the Hebrew letters sameach (60) + mem (40) that spell the unpronounced name of the accusing angel (Satan). On the other hand, the value 101 is equivalent to equal to name of the angel Michael, the righteous angel whose name means “the one who is like God.”[182] Michael is spelled mem (40) + yud (10) + chaf (20) + aleph (1) + lamed (30).[183]

According to legend, it was Michael who was sent by God to stop Abraham from slaying Isaac[184], a legend binding Michael to the central Torah reading of Rosh Hashanah and to the sacrificed ram of the Akedah whose voice is memorialized by the shofar (See Chapter 6 – The Ram’s Midrash).

Call and Response

In the Torah, speech brings reality into being; God spoke and the world came into existence.[185] And so it is in the shofar service. It is customary for each shofar blast to be announced before it is blown. The caller who announces the blasts is a “makrei” and the shofar blower is a “tokea.” Another term for the shofar blower is “ba’al tekiah” (masculine) or ba’alat tekiah (feminine), term that poetically translate as, “master blaster.”

Jewish life is full of similar call and response rituals. For example:

· The question: “Who knows One?” brings the reply, “I know One” in a traditional Passover song.

· A blessing is answered with an “amen.”

· God asks his prophets, “Where are you?” They reply, “Heneini – I am here and spiritually present.”

The Rosh Hashanah ritual is designed to ask each of us, “Where are you?” To which the shofar replies for us, “Heneini.”

“I think the reason we have a Makrei is based on the verse: ‘Moses spoke, and God answered him by a voice.’[186] We now see that the voice was the sound of the shofar.”[187]

When the calls are chanted with the traditional cantillation, they form a musical unit with sound of the shofar; the pronouncement of “tekiah” combine with the blasts from the horn to comprise the tekiah as it is experienced. The calls are raiment that adorn the blasts and gives them a fitting liturgical setting.

First, they add to the power of the shofar to speak to the listener. For while we have pointed out that the voice of shofar can take the place of unspoken words, we yet need words to create the space in which the blasts can occur. It is as if the blast of the shofar can take the place of a thousand words, but we still need a word for the sound of the shofar. The shofar speaks to the right side of the brain – the side that governs emotions and patterns – while the spoken name calls to left side of the brain – the rational mind; together, the full mind is stimulated.

On a pragmatic level, the calls are also necessary to cue the shofar blower. Standing at the ready, with the shofar in my hands, I am often unable to follow the progress of the services in the machzor – prayer book. Moreover, in my meditations preceding blowing the shofar, I frequently enter such a deep place that I no longer hear what is being spoken. But somehow, when the call for “tekiah” rings out, I raise the shofar to my lips and blow without having to think or remember what I am supposed to do. Like the infantry bugler who blows the charge on the verbal command of his officer, I am able to follow instructions and discharge a volley from the shofar. The demands on the spiritual warrior are high, and the shofar blower needs the makrei the same way that a Torah reader relies on a gabbai – prompter, for assistance in following the sequence of the Torah reading.

The Dual Call of the Shofar[188]

“The ram's horn is blown not once but twice during the holiday prayers. The first time is immediately before the Musaf prayer. These blasts are called the ‘tekiot demeyushav’ (blasts while sitting). The second set of blasts takes place during the Musaf prayer itself. These are called ‘tekiot deme'umad’ (blasts while standing), as they are blown while the congregation is standing in prayer. Why do we blow the shofar twice?

Two Areas to Correct

“’Seek out God when He is found. Call out to Him when He is near.’[189]

“This verse draws our attention to two issues which every ba’al teshuvah (penitent) must address. He must ‘seek out God,’ and also ‘call out to Him’. What is the difference between the two?

“First, it is necessary to ‘seek out God.’ We need to regain the soul’s light, dimmed by our mistakes and sins. Before going astray, we were aware of the pleasantness in serving God. We were conscious of God’s greatness, and amazed by the opportunity to study His Torah and fulfill His will.

“Sin, however, blinds the mind and numbs the heart. All of the wonderful revelations from God’s immanence are lost. Therefore, the ba’al teshuvah must ‘seek out God.’ He needs to strive intellectually to recover his former enlightenment, to restore the joy in knowing God and His ways.

“The second area requiring attention is the lost feeling of God's closeness and protection. The ba’al teshuvah needs to recover the perception of Divine favor, in both material and spiritual matters. To correct this loss, he must ‘call out to God.’ He needs to reach out to God in prayer. He needs to bridge the emotional estrangement, and restore the feeling of God’s closeness. ‘Call out to Him when He is near.’

Shofar Blasts to Clear the Mind and Open the Heart

“The shofar is the tool that helps us accomplish both of these functions: to seek out God with our minds, and call out to God with our hearts.

“The first set of blasts is blown before praying, while sitting. They correspond to the repentance of the mind: the calm and thoughtful introspection on man’s smallness and God’s infinite greatness. These blasts rouse us to contemplate God and His ways.

“The second set of shofar blasts takes place during the Musaf prayer. These blasts are an integral part of prayer. Like prayer, they are an emotional service of God. The blasts frighten and humble us. They call out for us to reconnect with God, to perceive His closeness and protection.

Confusing Satan

“The sages wrote that blowing the shofar on this Day of Judgment confuses Satan, the prosecuting angel, and blocks his accusations.[190] How?

“The prosecuting angel has two possible lines of attack.

“He can accuse us of not acting in a manner appropriate to our great spiritual capabilities. We are blessed with a sublime soul, formed from God's Splendor. Yet we fail to correctly evaluate our place and purpose in life.

“Or, the prosecuting angel can use a diametrically-opposed argument: we are such small and insignificant creatures, our powers and intellect are so weak – how dare we sin before the omnipotent King?

“The prosecuting angel just has to decide which accusation will be most effective. And this is where the dual function of the shofar comes in. For each argument has a flaw that the shofar blasts point out. If he mentions our great spiritual potential, the shofar serves to awaken our minds to contemplate God's infinity. And if he mentions our insignificance, the shofar blasts humble us, reminding us of our weakness and smallness. We then turn to God to have compassion on us and accept our pleas for forgiveness.

“Not knowing which argument to use, the prosecutor is confused and silenced.”

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1-6 – The Ram’s Midrash

“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you;

The birds of the sky, they will tell you,

Or speak to the earth, it will teach you;

The fish of the sea, they will inform you.”[191]

Any naturally hollow animal horn (beside a bovine horn) can be used as a shofar. However, the sages say that a ram’s horn is preferred on Rosh Hashanah because of its association with the ram that Abraham sacrificed instead of his son Isaac in the Akedah, the Torah portion read during the New Year’s services.[192]

But what do we know about this ram?

Legend has it that God created the ram even before the first day of creation,[193] allowing the potential for redemption of humans even before the creation of humans. In the Moslem tradition, the ram is, “the very same animal which Abel had once sacrificed to God.”[194] The Torah, however, is silent about the ram; its thoughts, feelings, and voice are not recorded.

The artist placed the ram in the foreground of the Akedah.[195]

In this regard, the ram is like the other central figures in the Akedah drama, for the Torah does not document what Abraham and Isaac said to each other during their three-days march to Mount Moriah, what each thought as father bound son to the altar, or what Sarah felt when she intuited, from afar, that Abraham had raised his knife. But in another regard, the animal is different than the humans; while midrash after midrash delves into the psyches of the people, little is said about the beast’s.

Book 3 of Hearing Shofar: The Still Small Voice of the Ram’s Horn posits that the ram is the totem of the Jewish people and that the voice of the shofar, the ram’s horn, is the symbolic voice of our people. If we accept this conceit, then it is time for us to listen to what the ram of the Akedah has to tell us. As it is written, “The righteous person knows the soul of their animal.”[196]

While our scriptures tell stories about lions, whales and other animals, only the serpent in Eden[197] and Balaam’s ass[198] are endowed with voices. Schochet’s study of Jewish attitudes towards animals describes how Torah “demythologized” animals. The sages, for the most part, reinforced this teaching. It has been said, for example, that, “as soon as [Balaam’s talking ass] finished speaking, she died, so that people should not say, ‘This is the animal that spoke,’ and so make of her an object of reverence.”[199] While animals were “remythologized” to a certain extent by the early rabbis, it was, “more accurately, perhaps, a poetic remythologization of the animal kingdom… It constituted no real threat to the supremacy of man, and carried within itself no practical implications vis-à-vis the powers of the beast. To the popular mind, the animal was neither divine nor demonic, it was merely subordinate to man, created by God to serve him.”[200]

Later, Jewish mystics stressed, “the underlying kinship of all living creatures, man as well as beast.” They noted that, “divinity is manifest in all of creation, with divine life pulsating as surely as any animal as it does in man.”[201] Despite this, “at no time did the animal occupy an exalted place in Jewish religious symbolism, certainly nothing comparable to that of the lamb in Christian religious motifs. The animal was essentially a nonsymbolic creature… man’s spiritual development entails a lonely climb to the summit. He must ascend far above the level of the animal and must leave the animal behind in his quest for ideal interpersonal relationships.”[202]

This is in marked contrast with other ancient wisdom traditions that describe many interactions between humans and other intelligent species. Recall, for example, the Native American legends that describe lessons Coyote taught to humans, or the Vedic writings about elephant-headed Genesha and Hunaman the monkey.

“The notion that members of the animal kingdom, like human-kind, utter paeans of glory to God is, of course, a biblical one, but its development in midrashic literature is extensive and striking. In many respects, however, this is a perfectly natural development. After all, animals once possessed the power of speech, and their silent thoughts are still discernable to wise and sensitive humans. Furthermore, if even trees, plants, and inanimate objects are endowed with the capacity to praise the Lord, it is only natural for animals to be able to do so as well.”[203]

Had the Hebrews never been given their Torah, their divinely inspired scriptures, they would have been able to learn all they needed to know from the animals.”[204]

Anthropomorphizing (let alone deifying) animals seems to go against something in the Jewish cosmology; it comes too close to the ban on idolatry. When we left Egypt – where sheep, cats, jackals and falcons represented gods – spiritual communication with animals was prohibited, a dicta reinforced by our encounter with a golden calf.

While honoring this stricture, can we allow ourselves the mental exercise to imagine the ram as an intelligent, sentient being with whom we can communicate? What could we learn from a dialog with the ram that might deepen the shofar’s ability to inspire teshuvah and spiritual awakening?

If we could hear, what is the ram saying to us? Listen to what the ram might tell us:

Yeah. I was there. Of course I was there. I was stuck in that bush since before He-Is-Whom-He-Is created the world, just for this occasion. I couldn’t have missed it if I tried.

By the way, you do know what bush that was, don’t you? Well, if a bush can burn without being consumed, this was a bush that could grow since before the start of time without getting larger. You figure it out.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah, I was there all right.

Really, a very sad sight watching this old man and his son climbing the hill. The old guy had tears running down his checks. And the son just looked ashen. Wouldn’t you? I mean, he was too old to be called a kid anymore.[205] But he was a smart fellow; he knew what was going on in the neighborhood; that old, “harvest a child or two if you want a good crop,” business. Wasn’t it enough that Pop had already sent his brother off to who-knows-what-fate in the desert?

You sure wouldn’t catch any of us sheep doing that. Yeah, sure, we guys have to bash each other every now and then; a ram’s got to ram, after all. But snuff out our own lambkins? No way!

I had understood since the Big Bang the purpose for which I was stuck on that hilltop. And for me, beating it out of the bush was my path to liberation. Glory, Halleluiah! So as Abe and Yitz came close, I started shaking the shrubbery and bleating to say, “Come on Abie, light my fire.”

But they didn’t seem to hear me, no sir. Each too wrapped up in his own mishegoss, listening to his own troubles, to pay attention to anything else.

Abraham should have known what was what. When he said, “God will provide the lamb,” he had it almost right. I mean, how can some sheep older than time be considered still a lamb? But he was generally right. He knew it didn’t make sense to kill our kids. God knows, humans ought to be at least as smart as us sheep. But Abe was caught up in this game of “people” (I won’t insult my fowl friends by calling it a game of “chicken”). Abe, he was sort of toying with HaShem, testing God’s sense of justice while God was testing Abraham’s faith – and neither wanted to be the first to blink.

And what was it with the lad? Was he caught in a bush, too? Why didn’t he put up a fight or run away?

Too bad Jewish summer camp hadn’t been invented yet, ‘cuz if they had been, he might have learned the lesson in that song, “Who told you a ‘lamb’ to be? Why don’t you have wings to fly with, like the swallow so swift and free?”[206]

So there they are – Isaac in denial on the altar, Abraham raising his knife, and Sarah feeling the pain only a mother can feel. And I keep shooting as loud as I can. “Hey Guys! Over here, heneini! I’m the lamb. Look, thick wooly skin like Esau, horns in bush. God will provide the lamb - Me! Let me fulfill my dharma; I’m the sacrifice God wants.” But did they listen?

I have experienced a lot of miracles in my time, including the creation of the heavens and the earth. So what happened next didn’t surprise me. My, “Baaaaa! Baaaaa!” suddenly became, “Aaaabraaaaham! Aaaabraaaaham!” And thank God, may His Name be blessed forever and ever, amen, Abraham finally heard. ”Wake up, old man, your dream is over.”[207]

Now the Holy Book, she says Abraham, he “lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him, a ram” -- that’s me.

Now does that make any sense to you? Did Abie Baby have eyes in the back of his head or something? No way. He heard me making a ruckus, and then he turned around and did his beholding. Sort of like the way Hagar couldn’t see that well until she heard her wake-up call. You know, there’s a reason why you don’t have earlids; it’s so you can hear what’s going down even when you’re in the pitchest dark.

Well, you probably know the rest of the story about the life of Sarah and Abraham and their flock. As for me, one of my horns blew at Sinai when God gave the Torah, and the other is on alert to blow the instant Messiah comes. My blood marked the homes of the children of Israel on Pesach. The Temple is built on my ashes. And Elijah wears my skin as his mantle. A nice legacy for a four-legged critter, if you ask me

But in my opinion, the most important gift I got to give was my voice. My calls were able to awaken Abraham so he could return to his senses. And from generation to generation, my voice continues to speak through the shofar, my horn, calling people to wake up to their potentials and return to their true purposes.

But the shofar can only work if you listen, so you have to do your part, too. Then, as The Boss says, “all the nations of the earth shall be blessed because you have listened to My voice.”

I’ve got to go now. Miriam’s bringing her tambourine, those Koresh Brothers[208] have got some new tunes, and David’s got on his dancing shoes. I’m sitting in, naturally, on horns. We sure are going to wail tonight.

So you be good, and keep your ears open.

The Real Hero of the Sacrifice of Isaac

Yehuda Amichai[209]

The real hero of the sacrifice was the ram

Who had no idea about the conspiracy of the others.

He apparently volunteered to die in place of Isaac.

I want to sing a memorial song about the ram,

The curly wool and human eyes,

The horns, so calm in his living head.

When he was slaughtered they made shofars of them,

To sound the blast of their war

Or the blast of their coarse joy.

I want to remember the last picture

Like a beautiful photo in an exquisite fashion magazine:

The tanned, spoiled youngster all spiffed up,

And beside him the angel, clad in a long silk gown

For a formal reception.

Both with hollow eyes

Observe two hollow places,

And behind them, as a colored background, the ram

Grasping the thicket before the slaughter.

The angel went home

Isaac went home.

And Abraham and God left much earlier.

But the real hero of the sacrifice

Is the ram.[210]

Why the Shofar and not the Knife?

“The point of the Akedah is not to increase faith and piety, but, on the contrary, to warn against too much faith, too much piety, in particular, too much eagerness to sacrifice, especially at the expense of others than the faithful one.

“I find it interesting that the idea of sacrificing the Ram in place of Isaac is not even commanded by God. Abraham does this on his own. It seems he was caught up in the urge to sacrifice, and if it was not his son, it had to be the Ram.

“If the meaning of the Akedah is Abraham's willingness to serve God by sacrificing his son, why, on Rosh Hashanah, when we remember the Akedah, do we not hold up the chalef, the shochet's [ritual slaughter’s] knife? Why do we hold up and blow the shofar, which makes the point that the son was not sacrificed? The Ram was.

“Maybe martyrdom is not the highest form of serving God. Maybe He wants us to live for Him, not die for Him.”[211]

The Silence of the Ram

I suggest above that the ram of the Akedah called mightily to draw Abraham’s and Isaac’s attention, and that the humans were too stricken with angst and fear to hear the call. There are, of course, other ways to explain why Abraham and Isaac did not hear the ram when they arrived at the mountaintop. For example, what if the ram was silent?

This hypothesis poses its own interesting set of questions:

· Was the ram silent because, after half of eternity caught in the bush, it had become too weary to struggle or care?

· Was he quiet in self-defense, preferring to remain hidden instead of becoming incense?

· Was it dumbstruck with awe by an awareness of the import of the events unfolding before him? Because its animal instincts sensed a heavenly messenger nearby?

· Was it obeying a command from God to be silent and let events unfold?

· Or, was the ram even there, on Mount Moriah, until Abraham turned and looked? Perhaps Abraham or Isaac (or God) had to complete an initiation or trial before the ram was transported form its abode in Paradise.

Each of these possibilities can provide instruction on teshuvah and other themes of the Yomin Noraim. For example, how does one hear the still small voice when the ram of redemption is silent?

You are invited to create your own “ram drash” to explore the mysteries.

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1-7 – The Ewe’s Horn

“The shofar sounds like a baby crying, and is supposed to make the milk rise in God’s breast.”[212]

This Chapter begins with questions:

Why do we call the shofar a “ram’s” horn when our tradition also allows us to use the horn of female sheep, goats, and other horned ungulates?[213]

Why do the compilers of Talmud say “we blow with the horns of males” and then annotate their remarks to say that’s not what they really mean?[214]

The animal sacrifices required in the Torah specified that rams were to be used for certain sacrifices and ewes for others. Can we deduce from this that there are different spiritual qualities to the genders, differences that may also be heard in a shofar depending on whether it is a ram’s horn or an ewe’s horn?[215]

While I cannot provide definitive answers to these questions, exploring gender-related issues provides useful insights into how to hear and heed shofar.

The plural of Hebrew nouns are constructed with a suffix; “‑im” for most masculine nouns and “‑ot” for most feminine nouns. “Shofar; is an exception; it is a masculine noun that becomes “shofarot” in the plural. There are enough exceptions to the general rule to make this grammatically unremarkable. Still, it is an interesting coincidence in the context of an investigation of gender-related issues.

The Masculine Voices of Shofar

We are told that a ram is the preferred source for a shofar because it memorializes the ram used as a sacrifice instead of Isaac. For example:

“Rabbi Abbahu said: ‘Why is the horn of a ram sounded on Rosh Hashanah? The Holy One praised be He said, ‘sound before Me the horn of a ram, that I might be reminded of the binding of Isaac, the son of Abraham, and thus consider your fulfillment of this commandment [of sounding a horn] as though you had bound yourselves upon an altar before Me.’”[216]

This story, the Akedah – the Binding of Isaac – is the Torah portion traditionally read on the second day of Rosh Hashanah.[217] One understanding of the story is that God tests Abraham’s faith by ordering him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. When Abraham passes his ordeal by binding Isaac on the altar and preparing to slaughter him, God renews the Covenant binding God and the descendents of Abraham.

There is another compelling understanding of the Akedah – that it is Abraham who is testing God’s compassion and justice. Abraham, who vocally argues with God over the destruction of life at Sodom and Gomorrah, argues even more effectively by silently witnessing what he knew to be an immoral command. It is only when God sends an angel to stop the slaughter that Abraham accepts the renewed Covenant.

Whichever midrash resonates most deeply with us, we sound the shofar during Rosh Hashanah as a reminder – to ourselves and to God – of that Covenant.

Three of the central characters in this story are males: Abraham – the father whose name even derives from the Hebrew root meaning “father”; Isaac – the son; and a ram – a male sheep whose horns can even be understood as phallic images.

On their way to Mt. Moriah where the sacrifice is to take place, father and son walk together for three days with almost nothing spoken between them – the epitome of the image of men who do not share their emotions. This is a guy’s story: instead of exploring feelings and relationships, the Akedah is an action-drama of command, courage, strength, duty, resolve, fear, and violence.

The shofar blasts that recall the Akedah’s anniversary still resonate with the story’s masculine energy. They demand that God inscribe us for another year and are alarms to rouse us to teshuvah, battle cries to shock and awe Satan, and fanfares for a triumphant King. They are the voice of Abraham’s unexpressed rage at God and the stifled whimpers of Isaac struggling to live up to his father’s expectations. They are the voice of the ram in every one of us, caught-up by the very horns about which we are most proud.

We hear the masculine voice of shofar as a bellow, a trumpeting, and a demand; we note the size, length, and power of the blasts.

The shofar calls of Abraham declare that whether we yield to or challenge God’s call, we must respond when called.

The shofar calls of Isaac are the struggle each of us must go through to create or preserve our own identity without breaking the bonds that tie us with our family, tribe, and heritage.

The shofar calls of the ram remind us that even when we feel trapped, we may yet be part of the Divine plan.

Animal Husbandry 101

There was a pragmatic reason for sacrificing rams and male lambs instead of females. Just a few males could service an entire fold of sheep or tribe of goats, and too many males in a flock could lead to ramming as the males fought to establish breeding rights. Females, on or hand, produced milk and lambs or kids and were of too much economic value to sacrifice.[218]

The Feminine Voices of Shofar

The shofar also speaks to us with feminine voices that we hear in the shofar’s cries, its pleading implorations, the silences between notes, the pregnant expectation before the first tekiah – blast, and the lingering reverberations of the tekiah gedolah – the prolonged blast at the end of the shofar service.

We also have scriptures and stories of women in whose voices (or silences) can also be heard in the feminine aspect of shofar. Among these are Sarah, Hagar, Hannah, the mother of Sisera, Rachel, and Rahab.

Sarah

Sarah is wife of Abraham, mother of Isaac, and the original Matriarch of the Jewish people. Yet the Rosh Hashanah Torah reading of the Akedah does not mention Sarah. Abraham receives his orders from God and rises early in the morning to take Isaac to the place of sacrifice. We are not told what either said to Sarah, if anything, about the purpose of the trip or what their good-byes were like. Nor are we told what Sarah and Abraham said to each other after he returned from his journey without Isaac. We do not even know if husband and wife ever saw each other again. Instead, Genesis 22 ends with Abraham returning to and dwelling in Beer-sheba, and the very next chapter, Genesis 23, “The Life of Sarah,” begins by telling us that Sarah died, at the age of 127 years, in Hebron.

This silence, like all family secrets, has lead to endless speculations and rumors. The gossip is that Abraham’s actions and the threat to her child caused the death of Sarah.[219] We are told, for example:

“The death of Sarah is narrated directly after the Akedah, the Binding of Isaac, because, as a result of the tidings of the Akedah – that her son had been fated for slaughter, and had been all-but-slaughtered – her soul flew away and she died.”[220]

“Isaac returned to his mother and she said to him: 'Where have you been, my son?' Said he to her: ‘My father took me and led me up mountains and down hills,’ etc. ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘for the son of a hapless woman! Had it not been for the angel you would by now have been slain!’ ‘Yes,’ he said to her. Thereupon she uttered six cries, corresponding to the six blasts of the Shofar. It has been said: She had scarcely finished speaking when she died.”[221]

“Satan…told Sarah, ‘Ah, Sarah, have you not heard what’s been happening in the world? Your old husband has taken the boy Isaac and sacrificed him as a burnt offering, while the boy cried and wailed for he could not be saved.’ Immediately, she began to cry and wail. She cried three sobs, corresponding to the three Tekiah notes of the Shofar, and she wailed three times, corresponding to the staccato notes of the Shofar. Then, she gave up the ghost and died.”[222]

In another telling of the story, Satan is in disguise as Isaac; Sarah dies upon hearing about the near sacrifice even though she sees her son still living.[223] The implications of her son’s survival are also explored in other midrashim:

“But others teach that Satan reveals to her that Abraham has spared her son from his knife; and then her heart bursts from joy. Such is the anatomy of a mother’s heart.”[224]

“When Sarah heard of Abraham's mission to Mount Moriah, she marveled at his spiritual heroism. Had she been told that Yitzchak was sacrificed, she would have been filled with joy at the fact that her son was accepted by HaShem. She, however, was told that he had almost been slaughtered. Upon hearing this, she was terribly saddened, because she presumed that at the last moment her son was found unsuitable. Sarah feared that perhaps her influence was in some way inadequate and her education of Yitzchak imperfect. This was so profoundly saddening that her soul departed.”[225]

Whether due to Isaac’s brush with death or his rescue, the Binding of Isaac tears his mother from life. If the masculine voice of shofar is to memorialize the ram that was sacrificed instead of Isaac, the feminine voice of shofar is reminder of the sacrifice of Sarah.

“The Shofar blasts on the New Year are to transform Sarah’s death into atonement, because the teruah – the broken Shofar tone – is groaning and wailing.”[226]

The shofar calls of Sarah remind us that our actions – and even our intentions – have consequences for others.

“The shofar, the cries of Sarah, reminds the Holy One that the tests He gives leave marks on the innocent. The trials of Abraham lead to the death of Sarah. Before we go into judgment, we remind the Holy One [about] the flaws of perfect justice in an imperfect world. It is better to forego the test then to cause the suffering of an innocent intimate bystander. Just as no words, only her sobbing can reflect Sarah's pain, it is the mournful sound of the shofar that tries to convince the Judge, that judgment isn't worth the trouble.”[227]

The gematria – numerical equivalent – of the Hebrew words “And He remembered [Sarah],”[228] equals the numerical value of “shofar.” [229]

Tkhine of the Matriarchs for the Blowing of the Shofar[230]

(Tkhines – Yiddish for “prayers” or “supplications” – were Yiddish-language prayer books intended for women who were not taught Hebrew, and often conveyed a woman’s sensibility.)

“First we ask our mother Sarah to plead for us in this hour of judgment… Have mercy, our mother, on your children. And especially, pray for our little children that they may not be taken away from us. For you know well that it is very bitter when a child is taken away from the mother, as it happened to you. When your son Isaac was taken away from you, it caused you great anguish.”

Hagar

Hagar’s story[231] is traditionally read on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Hagar is an Egyptian woman, Abraham’s concubine by whom she conceives Ishmael. Sarah is concerned about the rivalry between Abraham’s two sons – Hagar’s and her own – and told Abraham to banish Hagar and Ishmael to the desert. God instructed Abraham to listen to Sarah, and said that Ishmael, too, will also become the father of a great nation.

Hagar, apparently, did not know of God’s plan for her son. When their small supply of water was depleted, she placed the child under a bush and sat down a “bowshot” away from him, saying, “Let me not look upon the death of the child.” And then she “lifted up her voice, and wept.”

What happens next is one of the great mysteries of Torah. We are told that Hagar wept, but that “God heard the voice of the lad.” Tank cars full of ink have been consumed in exegeses on the seeming incongruence of this verse; but it should not be hard to imagine that the mother’s cries were also those of her young child’s. What is relevant to our discussion of shofar is that God heard the cries and responded. “And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water; and she went and filled the bottle with water, and gave the lad drink.”

No horns were blown that day in the Negev. Sitting in the silence of the desert, Hagar could hear the still small voice of an angel awakening her to new hope. Relieved of her anguish, she could recognize the solution that had been at hand all along.

The shofar calls of Hagar awaken us to discover new hope and opportunity, even from the depths of despair.

“…the shofar’s call is actually a cry – the cry of Hagar as she leaves her home. How odd that the rabbis should choose this woman’s cry – the mother of our present-day ‘enemy’ – to be the sound which echoes in our new year. How odd and how appropriate. The shofar is inviting us to clear our heads of all the stereotypes and ‘thems’ we carry into the new year. The shofar challenges us to hear the cry of the enemy as our own, to hear in Hagar’s wail the cry for empathy, and in that cry, we empty ourselves of anger and fill ourselves with compassion for all the “others” we have in our lives. Hagar’s cry makes us hear the cry of all those we have stereotyped, and demonized, and fictionalized, and rationalized.”[232]

“How strange: Hagar cries out, and God’s messenger says that God has heard the youth’s voice. Could it be that here also is a message for Rosh Hashanah? Like the call of the shofar, when Hagar cries, it is not only her own voice that God hears, but the voice of someone who cannot cry out for themself. On Rosh Hashanah, we repent not only for ourselves, which, after all, we can do any time, but as a community. We take upon ourselves the task of crying out to God to save the community, not just to repent of our own deeds.”[233]

“Tradition teaches that the shofar is the horn of the ram that saved Isaac’s neck. But there [is] also a rabbinic tradition that the shofar’s call symbolizes the cry of Hagar just as she is cast out. One long “why?” And then: why, why, why do we turn our backs, it asks us? And then it gasps and pleads: why, oh why why why why why why why, do we not reach out to each other?

“Hagar’s shofar is the cry of the kid not chosen for the team, the girl without a date for the prom, the single person alone for the holiday meal, the friend we don’t talk to anymore, the new co-worker we ignore, the co-workers we’ve stepped on to get ahead ourselves. It’s the person we assume isn’t lonely, because we’ve never asked. It’s the friend whose stress we can’t deal with because we’re too stressed; the child we don’t have time for, sitting in front of another TV cartoon, waiting, waiting. It’s the parent we’re still angry at. It’s the exiled, the foreign, the Israeli we judge for leaving Israel to live here, the new immigrant whose English is not so good yet. It’s the lonely, the elderly, the disabled, the depressed, the tired. It’s all those we’ve never forgiven.

“Since today is Shabbat, it is the day Zalman Schachter-Shalomi calls the “silent shofar.”[234] We do not blow the shofar today, but we can imagine the kind of anguished cry that wells up in the throat and gets caught in silent, heaving sobs with no sound. Sometimes our cries are so deep, they cannot even make a sound, and no one hears them except the one crying. Today’s silent shofar is all the Hagars we have left in the desert, and they are waiting for an invitation from us to come back.”[235]

Hannah

Hannah’s story is the Haftorah – prophetic reading – traditionally read after the Torah reading on first day of Rosh Hashanah.[236] It relates thematically to the day’s Torah reading about another childless woman, Sarah. Just as Sarah and Hagar share a man, Hannah shares her husband, Elkanah, with a co-wife, Peninnah. Peninnah has children and taunts Hannah for being childless. Hannah’s longing for a child does not receive empathy from Elkanah who asks, “Why are you so sad? Am I not more devoted to you than ten sons?”

While accompanying her husband to Shiloh to offer a sacrifice at the Mishkon,[237] “in her wretchedness, she prayed to the Lord, weeping all the while.”[238] Hannah vows to God that, if her petition for a son is granted, the child will be given into the service of the Temple.

Meanwhile, Eli, the priest, has been observing her.

“Eli watched her mouth. Now Hannah was praying in the heart; only her lips moved, but her voice could not be heard. So Eli thought she was drunk. Eli said to her, ‘How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Sober up!’ And Hannah replied, ‘Oh, no, my lord! I am a very unhappy woman. I have…been pouring out my heart to the Lord…out of my great anguish and distress.’ ‘Then go in peace,’ said Eli, ‘and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of Him.’”[239]

After this, Hannah conceived and bore Samuel (whose name means “I asked the Lord for him”). Her son served in the priesthood and became one of the great prophets.

The Rabbis say that Hannah provides a model for how to pray. I add, that she also provides a model for both the kavanah – attitude – and technique of shofar sounding: “praying in the heart; only her lips moved, but her voice could not be heard.”[240]

The shofar calls of Hannah sound for all those who cannot utter their prayers aloud.

Hannah Song of Horns

Hannah is also connected to shofar by references to keren – horn – in the first and last lines of her song upon presenting her son Samuel to service in the Temple:

“I have triumphed [literally “My horn is high”] through the Lord;

I gloat [literally “My mouth is wide”] over my enemies;

I rejoice in Your deliverance.

“The foes of the Lord shall be shattered;

He will thunder against them in the heavens.

The Lord will judge the ends of the earth.

He will give power to His king,

And triumph to [Literally, “And will raise the horn of”] His anointed one.”[241]

Hannah’s use of the horn as a metaphor for conceiving a child is not surprising as the horn has, since earliest times, been a symbol of fecundity.

Comparing the voice of shofar to the cries of a woman in labor, Rabbi Lisa Edwards speculates, “…it’s hard to live in a post-Freudian age wit

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prelude

PART ONE – The Call of Shofar

Chapter 1-1 – An Awakening

Chapter 1-2 – Five Translation Challenges

Because God Tells Us To

Trumpets

New Moon

More Reasons for Shofar

PART TWO – The Shofar of Elul

Chapter 1-3 – My Shofar is My Beloved’s

Spiritual Preparation

The Alarm

A Daily Ritual

Meditations

Chapter 1-4 – Meditations for Each Day of Elul

Meditation for First Day of Elul

Meditation for Second Day of Elul

Meditation for Third Day of Elul

Meditation for Fourth Day of Elul

Meditation for Fifth Day of Elul

Meditation for Sixth Day of Elul

Meditation for Seventh Day of Elul

Meditation for Eighth Day of Elul

Meditation for Ninth Day of Elul

Meditation for Tenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Eleventh Day of Elul

Meditation for Twelfth Day of Elul

Meditation for Thirteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Fourteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Fifteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Sixteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Seventeenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Eighteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Nineteenth Day of Elul

Meditation for Twentieth Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-First Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Second Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Third Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Fourth Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Fifth Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Sixth Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Seventh Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Eight Day of Elul

Meditation for Twenty-Ninth Day of Elul

PART THREE – The Shofar of Rosh Hashanah

Areshet S’fataynu Prayer[130]

Chapter 1-5 – Blast, Break, Shatter, Blast

Shofar and Teshuvah

The Code

ABBA, ABBA HAVE PITY![169]

Blessing Before Hearing Shofar

The Arrangement of Blasts

100 Blasts on Rosh Hashanah

Visualization of 100 Blasts

101 Blasts – A Sephardic Minhag

Call and Response

Chapter 1-6 – The Ram’s Midrash

The Real Hero of the Sacrifice of Isaac

The Silence of the Ram

Chapter 1-7 – The Ewe’s Horn

The Masculine Voices of Shofar

The Feminine Voices of Shofar

Hannah

Hannah Song of Horns