The Weeping of the Shofar

This Dvar Torah was adapted from one written by Rebecca Minkus Lieberman the cofounder and executive director of the Orot Center.

Photo by Megs Harrison on Unsplash


“Ok, sweet boy, go now on your journey. I hope it’s as good as the trips you dreamed about, because finally, my sweet, sweet boy, finally you are free. I will love you and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life. But you are right here. I know you are right here; I just have to teach myself to feel you in a new way.” - Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of Hersh (z”l)


This week, we entered into the Hebrew month of Elul.

 

In most years, Elul is month of promise and renewal, carrying the energy of hope.

 

This year, our hearts and souls are cracked and grieving.

 

We need to leave space for the sorrow, and know that, as heavy as it feels, and as often as our eyes fill throughout the day, we are not alone in carrying this pain.

 

The world feels so incredibly broken. In so many places.

 

I don't believe we can skip over the grief, force ourselves to put on a good face and paper over the deep sadness. It's there, and there is good reason for its presence, and we need to invite it into the circle, so to speak.

 

In Elul, we blow the shofar every morning, and we recite Psalm 27 daily. The words of the psalm are powerful and healing. I know that I will be sinking into those words with greater yearning this month and hoping that they can hold me.

 

The shofar symbolizes many different meanings, but each year, I am pulled back to this text.

 

Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 4:9

 

The order of the blasts: three sets of three each. The length of a teki’ah is equal to three teru'ahs, and the length of a teru'ah is equal to three sobs.

 

We can allow the sounding of the shofar to do its job - let it release some of that inner pain. To express the inexpressible.

 

The sounds of the shofar are meant to mimic crying. Sobbing. Weeping. The sounds of a broken heart.

 

And that is where we are at now, at the cusp of this Elul.

 

To pour out our sorrow without needing to find words.

 

And while we sound the shofar, and while we make space for the grief, we are also reminded that the tears and the sorrow can be fuel.

 

Let our pain be fuel for a doubling down on our commitment to Jewish education, Jewish learning, Jewish community, Jewish pride, and Jewish strength.

 

It can help us to create a firmer foundation that ties us to our tradition, our ancestors, our values, and our future.

 

Our bruised hearts and souls need more wisdom. More places of refuge.

 

They need teachings and practices that speak to the hardness of being human beings.


This Elul, you are invited to join us to learn and strengthen, to practice and grow, to connect and nurture foundations that can hold you through all of this - in our online class about Meaningful Explorations of the High Holy Days: Seeking Awe, Contemplation, Joy & Renewal. Wednesdays 10:00-11:30am.  Learn More


CAJE wishes you all a month ahead in which you find the nourishment and support you need. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to us.

Shabbat Shalom