Yom Teruah
Thoughts on Rosh HaShanah 2020
At the start of a
year which we hope will restore a sense of normalcy to our lives, Rosh HaShanah
will be anything but normal. This year we won’t be sounding a shofar on
the first day of the holiday, in deference to the rabbinic restriction
of shofar on Shabbat.[1]
How can we appreciate a day whose very essence is the sounds of the shofar without
a shofar? How may we approach the “Yom Teruah” (Bemidbar
29:1) without a teruah?
Imagine the scene
of an orchestra which experiences unexpected technical difficulties just as it
prepares to play. The instruments were wrongly arranged and it will take hours
to properly assemble them. The conductor turns to face the audience and
embarrassedly announces that the show is postponed until the instruments are
fixed.
Now imagine a
different scene. A band takes the stage in a concert hall. And just as they
tune up their instruments and begin to play, the room turns dark and the
electricity goes out. As the people in the audience begin to nervously shuffle
in their seats, the band leaders step aside from their instruments, walk to the
edge of the stage and begin to sing with all their might. The crowd erupts in
applause, spontaneously joining in with the chorus and reveling in every second
of the unique experience.
Why is the outcome
of these two scenarios so different? Why can’t the orchestra adjust to the
situation in a way similar to the band at the concert? The answer, of course,
is that an orchestra can’t play as an orchestra without instruments. Its
function, by definition, is to make music with instruments. The function
of a band, in contrast, is to sing songs. And although they generally do so
with the accompaniment of instruments, the truly skilled group can adjust to
sing even without. Pouring their hearts into the singing, the band may even
seize that opportunity to raise the situation to a new level, generating a
unique experience for their listeners in the absence of any sound from an instrument.
What does “Yom
Teruah” actually mean? Okelos translated it as “Yom Yebabah” – a
“Day of Crying.” The essence of Rosh HaShanah, then, lies not in the sound of
the shofar per se, but in the cries that we raise up to God on the day –
with or without a shofar. It’s no wonder, then, that the Hakhamim determined
the calls of shevarim and teruah by comparing them to the cries
of the mother of the fallen general Sisera.[2]
The shofar plays not as our “orchestra,” but as the “musical
accompaniment” to our band of prayers to God.[3]
This year will
begin differently than usual. The first day of Rosh HaShanah will present us
with the challenge of realizing the “Yom Teruah” as a “Day of Crying” without
a shofar. The electricity will go out and we will be forced to
decide between postponing the concert or stepping forward and singing our
hearts away. So, go ahead. Take a deep breath and step forward in prayer. Find
the courage within to replace the external sounds of the shofar with the
genuine cries to God that lay dormant in your heart.
[1] Rosh HaShanah 29b.
[2] Rosh HaShanah 33b.
[3] Cf. R. Yeruham Olshin, Yerah LaMoadim: Yamim Noraim vol. 1 (Lakewood, NJ, 2014), ma’amar 37, for the well-known halakhic opinion of R. Yisshak Zev Soloveitchik z”l that the shofar plays an integral role to the tefilah of Rosh HaShanah. See, as well, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Blessings and Thanksgiving: Reflections on the Siddur and Synagogue (New Milford, CT, 2019), pg. 103.