Shofar: The Call Within and Without

The shofar, the most significant symbol and vehicle for the Holy Days, represents a multiplicity of interpretations and depth of meaning in our tradition. The shape, the sound, the source, and rootedness in our history and formation bespeaks of its power and presence from the moment the month of Elul begins until the end of Yom Kippur when it becomes the capstone of each person’s emotional journey of celebration, remembrance, and depth of sorrow. 

The word “shofar” in Hebrew is not only this curved ram’s horn, specifically required because of its key connection to many traditional events and teachings. The Hebrew letters also mean to shine bright into the dawn and qualities of acceptance, pleasantness, and beauty. In fact, one of the midwives who is seen as a courageous woman who helps to save Israelite babies, and the future of Judaism, is named Shifrah: beautiful woman.

When we see, hold, and blow the shofar we acknowledge the light and the beauty that it represents for the future. With other vowels it means to improve one’s actions, shapiru, the most essential quality of its purpose, like a spiritual alarm clock, to awaken us, to move us, to inspire us to review the year that has passed with its mixture of moments, the highs and the lows, focusing on those that need attention and improvement.

When we see, hold, and blow the shofar we acknowledge the light and the beauty that it represents for the future. 

Our first and most powerful experience of the shofar was at Sinai and with each blow we are transported back to the powerful moment of G-d’s presence, when the revelation was surrounded by thunder, lightning, fire, and smoke and the very loud blast of the shofar, which increased in intensity, to the point it drove the people away in fear for their lives rejecting G-d to boot. When we hear the Shofar, year after year, it is also a redemption to come back, embrace the Holy One, and even bind ourselves to G-d, as Isaac did, allowing himself to be bound on the altar as a korban, an offering of his life. This too we remember, as the shofar is a symbol of the ram in the thicket which G-d sends to replace Isaac. 

The curved, raw bony material, much like our own fingernails, is taken from a male sheep, a ram, that can only be used if it dies a natural death. We don’t kill the animal for our own use but repurpose part of its unique feature to lift it up and through its vibrational sound reclaim for many an opportunity to be transformed. The potent sounds are heard as cries, wails, and the deep, deep torment for so many Jews throughout our painful history, particularly this year of those slaughtered, raped, and abandoned. How can we not hear the blowing of this horn and the words T’ikiah, Sh’varim, Truah, which represent the loud blast, the breaking and the shattering of our hearts, and a reminder of our ancestral mothers like Sara and Hannah who wailed to G-d because of their deep maternal love and loss? How can we, personally, not be moved to our own pain and sorrow, the regret and omissions, and not crave this sonic mikvah to wash away all the obstacles and resistance so we can move forward, dispel the remorse, and find the grace we all desire?

Yet, we also know the shofar represents another side, the light, the goodness, and the possibility that deep awareness and willingness to change bring. The sages teach that blowing shofar heralded the coming of the King, our supreme ruler, as Psalm 150 says, “Halilu Hu B’teika Shofar,” “Praise Him with the blast of the Shofar.”  We blow the shofar to announce the new moon, the new month, when we once again start over, especially when we celebrate such an auspicious time as Rosh Hashanah, the time of change, the greatest gift our tradition offers, ‘it is never too late to begin again.’ The shofar is sounded as a means to confuse Satan, the inquisitor, and to remind G-d we are human, bring forth your Rachamim, your compassion and set aside your judgement as we stand stripped of all excuses for our poor behavior. We blow the shofar to announce the Yovel, the 50th year when all slaves are set free and land is returned to its rightful owner and the coming of the Messiah, the hope for days of peace and tranquility. 

We also know from the Book of Joshua that “the priests blew the shofar for seven days which inspired the people to call out loudly from their own voices and the walls of Jericho came tumbling down.”

The mitzvah is to hear the shofar, to let it suffuse our innards, move us to bend ourselves toward good, to “T’shuvah, T’fillah, and Tzedakah,” “Repentance, Prayer, and Deeds of Kindness,” to returning back to our better selves, engage in spiritual work that brings us closer to the transcendent Holy One and the imminent Shechinah, while also giving to those in need in whatever way we can.

Just as the walls came down in Jericho, may our own inner walls crumble so we can find the hope and the beauty shofar represents and inspire others towards love and peace in this coming year. 

Just as the walls came down in Jericho, may our own inner walls crumble so we can find the hope and the beauty shofar represents and inspire others towards love and peace in this coming year.

Eva Robbins is a rabbi, cantor, artist and the author of “Spiritual Surgery: A Journey of Healing Mind, Body and Spirit.”