Kavanah and the Work of Elul

This year, the most anticipated sound of Rosh Hashanah will, on its first morning, be silence. The first day of the festival falls on Shabbat. In accordance with long-established Jewish practice, the shofar will not be sounded until the second day. For many congregations, that means the familiar blasts of tekiah, shevarim, and teruah will be absent on the morning when the largest number of worshippers gather. Many people will be disappointed. That disappointment should not be dismissed. For Jews whose principal encounter with the synagogue comes during the High Holy Days, the shofar may be the most immediate and visceral moment of the entire service. Its cry requires no translation. It bypasses explanation and reaches something older than language. Even those who struggle to follow the prayers recognize its voice. Some come hoping that the shofar will awaken a childhood memory. Some hear in it the voices of parents and grandparents who are no longer beside them. Others may not be able to say exactly why they come, only that something within them still responds to these days and to this sound.

What happens when the sound does not come?

The traditional explanation is legal. The Mishnah teaches that when Rosh Hashanah occurred on Shabbat, the shofar was sounded in the ancient Temple but not elsewhere. The Talmud explains that the Sages feared someone might carry a shofar through the public domain in order to learn how to sound it, thereby violating Shabbat. To protect the sanctity of the day, they postponed one of Rosh Hashanah’s defining rituals.

But the silence also presents a spiritual question: What is the shofar meant to accomplish? Maimonides famously imagined its call addressing us: Wake up from your sleep. Examine your........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)