The Sound Of The Shofar: A Time To Cry

The last month of the year is al-ready behind us. Then come the last 12 days, which correspond to all the months of the year. The last Shabbat, warns the Sefat Emet, corresponds to all the Shabbatot of the year, and we must therefore be espe-cially vigilant in observing it. Then we have the last four days, the awe inspiring days of Selichot. And fi nally, we come to the very last day, when many people take upon themselves a taanit dibbur. When the fi nal hour comes upon us, all that is left for us to do is beseech, “Tehei hasha’ah hazot she’at rachamim v’et rat-zon milfanecha.”

During the last hour before the fi nal sun of the year sets, we recite the po-etic words of a very beautiful song in our tefi llah, “Achot Ketanah.” Penned by the master poet Rav Avraham Hazan Ger-ondi of Spain, each clause in this piyut ends with the words “Tichleh shanah v’kileloteha, may the year and its accom-panying curses end.” Who is the achot ketanah in this piece, the “little sister” who is standing and davening for the geulah? It is our Mother Rachel. Why does he mention her now, as we stand at the threshold of a brand new year?

Because our Ima Rachel doesn’t daven anymore; after so many years of waiting and waiting, after so many akeidot that she has sacrifi ced, she has no words left, only a voice. “Kol beramah nishma” only her voice is heard, like the wordless voice of the shofar. Why doesn’t she say anything? Why don’t we say anything when the shofar is blown? The Baal Shem Tov gives the answer with a par-able about a king whose children are lost for many years in a vast forest.

At fi rst, they scream out to him, “Fa-ther, Father, please save us!” But he doesn’t answer. Finally, after years of fruitless requests, one of the sons says to his siblings, “I know why he’s not an-swering us. We don’t remember his lan-guage anymore! Let’s shout wordlessly until he fi nds us.” The Baal Shem Tov says that, sadly, we have forgotten the language of our Father. We’ve sullied our mouths to the extent that they can-not speak the holy language of the Rib-bono Shel Olam. Only the voice of the shofar,the voice of Rachel’s cries,can still save us. The voice of the shofar is the voice of all the desperate women in klal Yisrael, who, like our Ima Rachel, are waiting for redemption.

The Midrash tells us something very beautiful about Sarah’s end and how it is connected to the tekiot on Rosh Hashanah. When Yitzchak lay on the altar, understanding clearly that in mo-ments his father would offer him as a korban to Hashem, he asked Avraham, “What are you going to tell Ima?” That was his last worry—his mother.

At that moment, the Satan ap-proached Sarah and asked her, “Where is your son?” She answered, “He’s learn-ing in the yeshivah.” The Satan replied, “Zekeinah tipshah, yo u elderly fool, your husband took your son high into the hills and put a large knife to his throat.” At that moment, Sarah emitted a visceral scream: “Nooo!” That’s the fl at sound of the tekiah. Then she broke down and cried, which corresponds to the shattered sound of the shevarim. And then she screamed, “Nooo!” once again, another long tekiah, after which her heart gave out.

The Midrash says that the kol shofar is the cry of all the mothers in all gener-ations. It is the cry of all Jewish women who are akudim, bound to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, even as they wait. When the shofar is blown, it is a time of maternal anguish and tears. “Sarah, why didn’t you wait?” asks Rav Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Rav of Piaseczna and au-thor of the popular Chovat Hatalmidim, who served as a spiritual guide to many during the anguished period of the Holocaust. “If you had waited only one more moment, you’d have heard the Sa-tan’s next words—that Yitzchak was ul-timately spared.”

His revolutionary answer teaches us an inspiring lesson about our selfl ess Mother Sarah. Sarah was a neviah, he says, so she knew that her son would live. However, she wanted her cries to serve as a plea to Hashem on behalf of all future generations: “Even if my son eventually returns, even if this Holo-caust ultimately ends, even if this wom-an’s cancer is healed after years of treat-ment, we can’t wait!

We mothers don’t have the koach for this. Even if we know that yashar Kel, Hashem’s ways are just, even as we wait with emunah for a shidduch, a child, the return of a wayward son—it’s just too hard for us. Ribbono Shel Olam, please bring us the fi nal geulah already.” Imagine! This was our Mother Sarah’s selfl ess focus during those pain-ful moments.

She sacrifi ced her life in the hope of sparing all future mothers anguish. The Ari Hakadosh tells us that although most poskim say it is forbidden to cry on Rosh Hashanah (we are meant to tremble with joy—gilu bir’adah), for those who cry during tekiat shofar, it’s a siman that they possess a holy ne-shamah. Tekiat shofar is a time of cry-ing; it is the collective voice of all of our cries over the generations.

The Ari Hakadosh continues that if a Yid suddenly feels the urge to cry on Rosh Hashanah, he should allow his tears to fl ow freely during those few moments of inspiration, for this urge is a sign that he is being judged right then, and it is therefore the opportune time for him to repent with his whole heart.

Dear Jewish woman, as you stand in the beit knesset this year during the tekiot, remember that this is the time for you to cry—a wordless cry like the kol beramah of our Ima Rachel, like the piercing cries of our Mother Sarah. It is the moment when all human voic-es penetrate the skies. Yehi ratzon that in the merit of our good deeds and our desire to be the best we can be, we will be zocheh to hear the shofar shel Mashiach and to shed only tears of complete joy.

By Rabbi Zamir Cohen