Coming To Blows
By: Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox
Various sounds emerge from the shofar; each one is flavored by the size and contour of the shofar itself and the style of the person who is blowing it. In some synagogues, the shofar blast is quite literally a blast, at times seeming to make the walls vibrate with intensity. In other shuls, the shofar blowing is like a meek bleating, forcing congregants to move closer lest the sound of traffic outside and the air conditioners inside drown out the weak intonations. Some blow the shofar in a monotonous, mechanical fashion, without any melodic lilt. While others blow it so loudly that the sound can be overwhelming. Each congregation anticipates the shofar blowing, and each person leaves either uplifted, inspired, or nonplussed.
Think about the shofar. It is very similar to other musical horns. Orchestral horns, or brass, are varied in size, tone, and volume. Some emit a piercing staccato sound while others emit a deep, noble melody. Some horns cover a range of notes while others offer a single tone. What is the musical message of a horn’s blast? One can sense in the sound a burst and a barrage calling the listener to attention. Another horn’s tune may sound noble, conveying a feeling of regality, as if announcing something great is about to happen. Another horn can sound fearsome, turning anticipation to worry or dread. In earlier times, horns were taken to battle, either to awaken and alert the troops, to herald the arrival of the leader, or to sound the alarm for retreat.
I listen for each of these messages in the shofar blowing. I want to feel alert and attentive on that day. I want to believe that the King is nearby and we must honor Him. I want to feel some fear too, for this is the day we are all being judged. Peering deeper into the shofar, I know that our kabbalists depict the shofar as an extension of a human being. The yearning, groaning, and weeping of the instrument produces a sound that cannot be put to words lest we minimize those feeling by reducing them to concrete thoughts. The sounds of yearning and repentance produced by the shofar are the echoes of the spirit in agony: full of regret and remorse, worry and fear. Didn’t King Solomon say: “There is not a righteous man upon the earth who does good and sins not?” (Kohelet 7:20). The shofar represents the human voice in its most authentic form, when words cannot capture how deeply we ache within.
This year, the first day of Rosh Hashanah is on Shabbos. Since we do not blow the shofar on Shabbos, our prayers—the sounds we make with our voices and emotions—must substitute for the shofar-blowing (which represents our symbolic voice). Therefore, given that our plain unenhanced voices will constitute our “shofarblowing” this year, I want to use my voice in lieu of a shofar, allowing it to express my reverence and honor for our King Who sits in judgement on that day, vocalizing my awareness that I must still beg for mercy through my heartfelt prayers.
If the shofar is a replica of our most profound spiritual voice, that means that our voices are the real thing, not a replica. Our hornless, shofar-less voices are the authentic, real tool for calling forth with the stirrings of our soul.
I want my voice and soul to express my alert attentiveness, my reverence and honor, for our King Who sits in judgement, and I want to vocalize and verbalize my awareness that I still must beg for mercy.
Wishing all of us a shofar service full of meaning and sensitivity. Let’s all have a blast.
Kesiva v’Chasima Tova. n
Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox is a forensic and clinical psychologist, and director of Chai Lifeline Crisis Services. To contact Chai Lifeline’s 24-hour crisis helpline, call 855-3-CRISIS or email [email protected]. Learn more at www.chailifeline.org/crisis.
