The Jewish New Year is here.
The shofar blasts echo their ancient cry, catching a trace of the sounds of sadness and suffering that a person cries during times of pain and anguish. We have immersed ourselves in prayers, Tehillim, Selichos, and pizmonim, trying to capture our feelings and yearnings in the poetic phrases of the Machzor. Yet, the shofar captures those feelings without a Machzor. No phrases, sentences, poetry, or verbiage. Just long blasts, staccato bursts, mournful notes, and more long blasts. How is this possible?
Our sages have portrayed the symbolism of those sounds as representative of the ways we try to speak to Hashem. While the shofar blasts are not a direct substitute for speaking to Hashem, they are a way to communicate with Him from the depths of our hearts and souls at times when mere words cannot suffice.
There is a deep place inside of us that seeks expression at the rawest level of psychological and spiritual authenticity, and that is when we cry out from our hearts, at times sobbing, weeping, or screaming. There are no words at these moments because words circuit through the intellect, often sidestepping our emotions. Trying to put our feelings into words is important, but not when our feelings are still intense, raw, and unprocessed. That is why people in fear and great sadness scream and cry out, weeping copiously and saying little. When we blow the shofar, we are accessing our deep physical energies, our very breath, and converting that energy into nonverbal sound. That is essentially the heart of what our prayer is: It is the harnessing of our spiritual, emotional, and physical energy and channeling it upwards to speak to Hashem.
Our great Mekubalim have portrayed the human being at this time of year and in times of great trouble as a living shofar. We are expected to sink within ourselves, access our core and essence, and recognize our human frailty, our lowly stature. Our finiteness. Our hollowness. We draw on the sounds of the low and hollow nature of our humanity, as just a person—a part of Hashem’s magnificent world. We have no skills, no talents, no wisdom, no expertise or tools for saving ourselves. We are humble and the world around us is far too complex to understand and to navigate alone. This is why we give a deep voice from our ethereal breath, sending forth our life energy in a cry of sorrow, a gasp of agony, a wail of despair. But all of this is encased in a spirit of faith and hopefulness. The real voice of the shofar is that wordless voice inside of ourselves that comes from our hidden yet truest authentic self. We have no words, no plans. We seek to cling and cleave to the Almighty and that burst of tekiah expresses that this is all we are, and everything that matters is beyond matter and tangible form.
A cognitively processed, highly articulate prayer is, of course, also important. Knowing what to say, how to say it, and expressing it constitutes the ritual of tefillah for which our sages and Dovid Hamelech crafted detailed protocols which are our liturgy. But there is also the deeper dimension of praying from within, and especially in times of stress, strife, and uncertainty, that deeper prayer is our strongest tool for turning to Him. Our Mekubalim address this aspect of prayer and on the Yamim Noraim, we try to engage in prayers of the heart, body, and soul through the medium of the shofar. Listen to its call. Envelope yourself in its song. Send your messages skyward with your internal tekiah, teruah, and shevarim. Kesivah v’Chasimah Tovah. 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 crisis@chailifeline.org. Learn more at www.chailifeline.org/crisis.
