Hearing the Message of the Shofar

How many of us would agree with the statement:  The world is exactly the way it should be. There is nothing left to fix or create.  All our work is done.

Anyone?  Anyone?

Amazingly, our Rabbis teach us that we are supposed to think this way during Shabbat.  In order to carve out the holy time, to really distance ourselves from the things that consume our minds day in and day out, we need to convince ourselves that there is nothing to do.

But we know there is always something to do.  Something in our minds, sometimes on time, sometimes too late, reminds us that we have a responsibility, a task to complete, a goal to pursue.

At this time of year, we have a little extra help with our memories, and that is the sound of the Shofar.

The Shofar is meant to catch our attention, wake us up, get our minds in gear and open our hearts.  Unlike the musical prayers we sing, it is not by nature a pleasant sound,  Like an alarm clock, it is a sound that, at least at first, makes us jump back, makes us a uncomfortable, until we realize that it is a sound we need, a sound that we need to push us forward.

The Shofar notes, specifically the shevarim, the 3 part note, and the teruah, the staccato blasts, communicate the two major feelings we experience at this time of the year in the Jewish calendar.  The shevarim, literally meaning, the broken ones, or pieces, is the sound of loss, the sound of the loss we feel at the time of transition, the sound of a heavy heart. 

This sound has its origins in an unlikely place, as I taught this past Wednesday.  The ancient Israelites battled against local kingdoms in Canaan to establish themselves and ward of enemies.  One such enemy was King Sisera, general of the army of King Yavin of Chatzor.  The Israelite General Barak got word from the prophetess Deborah, Devorah, that he would win out over Sisera.  Similarly to what happened between the French and British at Agincourt, Sisera’s chariots got stuck in the mud, and he and his soldiers fled.  Sisera ended up in the tent of Ya’el, who when Sisera took a nap, well, let’s just say she dispatched him in a pretty intense way.  You can read about it in Chapter 4 of the book of Judges. 

At the same time, back in Chatzor, Sisera’s mother was looking out the window, waiting to hear news, and her attendants told her that her son must be celebrating his great victory, they told her this as she looked out the window crying, not knowing her son’s fate.

We know this hurt, the hurt of not knowing, the mystery and fear of not knowing what will happen even with our best efforts. 

This is the shevarim.

The Teruah is the sound of advance, the sound of war, the sound of boldness in confronting the unknown.

When our hearts feel weak, we listen for the teruah.  But when we are charged by the teruah, we should also keep the memory and mark of what has challenged us to heart so that we always act with empathy, with tolerance, with gentleness, knowing how fragile we all are – no matter how strong our muscles may be.

The world is for sure not the way we want it, or hope it can be.  We are a community of seekers, of strivers, of dreamers.  And the Shofar is like the blast of the horn of a train, the train of the New Year, telling us it’s time for all aboard and let’s make this year a blessing.  Amen.