Shofar blowing is such a strange, surprising thing. We are a people of words, words of Scripture and words of prayer, many, many words, especially on these holidays. And yet amidst all those words, suddenly, piercing through them, is the shofar, this nonverbal form of communication and prayer. It’s just so different.
And in this difference, the shofar seems to be calling us to experiment with a different way of being, to let go for a moment of the words, narratives, concepts, and theories that preoccupy us and to sink into a more somatic space, to move from our heads down into our bodies, and to encounter God from that more visceral, intuitive place.
Our Busy Minds
The first step is to even be aware of the pervasiveness of our extremely verbal, cognitive orientation – the irony of my expressing this in an essay is not lost on me – how, in the background, our minds are ever at work with words: thinking, commenting, planning, worrying, looping, arguing, blaming, criticizing, responding, justifying, telling stories, analyzing, making theories, blah blah blah, a neverending torrent of words that holds our attention, takes our energy and creates an internal (often, pretty unpleasant) world that we inhabit unquestioningly.
The Shofar Breaks Through
What the shofar blast does is to suddenly break through all that chatter, interrupting it and causing you to look up in surprise from that unconscious preoccupied slumber, jolted awake so that for a second the mind goes completely blank and all is exquisitely still, the loud blast of the shofar overriding any other sound, as if you have entered a thundering waterfall, the sound so loud it blocks everything else out, like a white noise machine. You can’t even hear yourself think. And that is a blessing.
Because once the words and stories begin to fade, then maybe something else can emerge for you. The shofar blasts are quite physical; they don’t enter through the mind as something to think about, but through the body as something to sense, a visceral experience of God. It’s like at Mount Sinai, where the shofar blasts were part of the divine revelation, accompanied by thunder and lightning and terrible trembling. Maybe you, too, tremble, as the intensity of the shofar enters you and reverberates inside you, offering you, too, a kind of mini revelation – God is right here! – the shofar is shaking you, trying to wake you up, like one would shake someone who is passed out on the couch when there is a fire in the house. Get up! See what’s happening! You’ve been blind, asleep! Stop looping away in your thoughts.
That is the shofar blast. It wants to shift your consciousness out of the daily humdrum of preoccupying thoughts, blah blah blah. No, no! You’re missing the point. You don’t see the fire, the divine fire of love and aliveness. You’re so busy with nothingness that you don’t see what matters most. Wake up! Let the blast of the shofar wake you, shake you, let all your insides tremble as if there is an earthquake in your body, shaking and trembling all over. Sudden and intense, you are shaken awake.
Drilling Down to the Center
The shofar comes at us with an initial shock, and then it stays for a while, drilling away – shevarim teruah – dah, dah, dah, tatatatatatata. Those sounds drill down into you, going deeper and deeper, breaking down walls as they go – like the shofar blows of Jericho – tearing down walls, drilling down through layers of concrete and ego and pride and confusion and hurt and insecurity and trauma and people pleasing – tatatatatata – through feelings of better than and less than and control and worry – tatatatata – all the walls crumbling now, drilling all the way down to the innermost point — ahh, coming now to the nekudah penimit, that inner point of stillness that is your true divine essence. Nothing else. Shedding it all like layers of false skin and masks, one on top of the other, drilling down to your center, to that calm, untouchable place inside where you are always whole, always at peace, always with God, the place in you that is beyond words and beyond time, that has always and will always exist, before you were born and after you die. Resting there for a moment in its eternal stillness and calm.
“Rosh Hashanah” = Before Separation
This place has a special relationship to Rosh Hashanah. The Sefat Emet explains the name Rosh Hashanah as meaning before (rosh) the time of shanah, of differentiation, of separation, going back to a primordial time before the world was born – hayom harat olam – before you were born. On this Yom Hazikaron, this day of remembering, you are remembering that preverbal time when all was one, when you were one with God, remembering the truth of that, the simplicity of it, the eternity of it, and remembering not just in your mind, but in your body, the shofar blasts calling you back there, to that eternal peace and wholeness, to that original knowing – hadesh yameinu kekedem, renew our days as of old (Lamentations 5:21), as of yore, before – before we started thinking so much that we lost touch with our bodies, before we lost touch with God and with our own inherent belonging. Returning now – teshuvah – letting the shofar in its somatic way draw you back to that preverbal place deep in your core, to the ancient one inside you that is still and ever tied to your Source.
Not Soft Energy
All this shofar blasting and drilling – it is not soft energy. Usually I am drawn to soft, gentle whispers on the wind. But the shofar is not such a call. It is fierce, insistent, urgent – an earthquake, a lightning bolt, an electric shock, something that demands that you pay attention, that you return, that you see and feel who you really are. Not as a punishment. Not out of meanness or aggression, But out of love. Because it matters. Because you matter. Because God loves you and wants you back, does not want you to continue to suffer in your delusions, to live in your head with a radio channel set to self criticism and blame and perfectionism and scarcity. God wants more for you, and this is the moment. The moment of rescue, of fire, of life and death choice, and God is shouting, through the shofar – choose life! Not tomorrow, but today. Hayom. Right now.
So there is urgency here, but don’t let it panic you. Let it strengthen you and clarify things for you, let it help you see what matters not and find what does, like a strong light in the dark. Hashem, be’or panekha yehalekhun. O, God, those who know the shofar call, they will walk in the light of Your face (Psalm 889:16). The shofar helps us walk our path in the divine light of discernment. It is a strong light, an intense one, because it needs to be, because there is so much darkness and confusion in us sometimes. Welcome the shofar’s strength, its power, its clarity. It will help you and guide you. It loves you.
Surge of Power
These shofar blasts are energy, powerful divine life energy. Let them reverberate and resonate and course through your veins in waves, like a bolt of electricity that surges through your body from top to bottom, again and again, all the way down to your fingertips and toes, making them tingle and come to back to life, awakening you to inhabit your body again, to be here now.
Cleansing
This shofar energy can also have a cleansing aspect. As the waves of sound wash through you, they clear out what is in the way, like the swirling waters of a washing machine, washing out the toxins that have accumulated, purifying and cleansing as they go, so that you emerge lighter, purer, somehow more yourself. It’s a little like dunking in a mikvah, but for the inside of us; the shofar’s waves of energy penetrating and washing through us internally so that we emerged renewed and refreshed.
Not Really New
All of this drilling and cleansing and jolting can feel scary at times, but it helps to remember that it is actually not something new we are moving towards, but something old and deeply familiar. Hadesh yamenu kekedem. Renew our days as of old (Lamentations 5:21). Of old. We actually know the place we are returning to. There is not so much change or newness here as teshuvah, return, and return feels good in our bodies, does not evoke the same fear as change. Return feels good in our bodies, like sinking back into the groove of an old chair that is perfectly suited to us, molded to our exact form. There is relief and comfort and a sense of rightness. We are not getting rid of anything essential. All the parts are still here inside, we have not thrown out any inner children along the way; on the contrary, we are restoring them to their original innocence and goodness and joy. It is like the storybook black dog that, after a thorough scrub, is recognized as the beloved white dog that was lost (Harry the Dirty Dog by Gene Zion). That is us. Returning to our original form.
Again and Again
Of course it is not a one and done; it’s not like we hear the shofar and poof, we are cleansed and returned. The word shanah also means repeat. Rinse and repeat. On Rosh Hashanah we don’t hear the shofar once, but one hundred times, and I believe we also have shofar like experiences all through the year – experiences of an intense jolt meant to awaken us, like a bright orange butterfly in the window, a moment of deep connection with a friend, a confusion or conflict or argument that hits us hard and forces an internal reckoning, an unexpected illness or accident, times of challenge, crisis and recovery, all of life’s myriad messengers, each one a kind of shofar blast in our system.
(In a way, shabbat is a kind of shofar blast each week, awakening us from the slumber of our busy productivity to something more eternal. Maybe that’s why we don’t blow the shofar on shabbat of Rosh Hashanah. We don’t need to. Shabbat is a shofar in and of itself. )
Becoming a Shofar
Something happens over time as we are awakened and cleansed again and again – more space is created inside us. The shofar clears us out, removing debris and clutter so that there is more and more space, a wider tunnel for God, a merkhav yah. And so, in a way, we become a shofar ourselves, we become, through our emptying out, like the shofar, a vessel, an instrument, a mouthpiece for God in the world. Maybe you can sense that possibility even in this moment, how there is a hollowed out corridor all down the length of the middle of your body, your breath pouring through it like the breath blown through the shofar, God breathing into you, God breathing you, divine energy flowing through you and out into the world. Let God inhabit you so completely that you become such a vessel, such an instrument, such a shofar, you, too, carrying a powerful wordless energy and offering it wherever you go.
