Today, the first day of the month of Elul, was the first day of the sounding of the shofar at morning minyan, the first time that most of us have heard a shofar blast in many months. There is so much power in the sound of the shofar, so many personal resonances that vibrate with each blast, from my childhood High Holiday memories to my last congregation where, as the cantor, I was also served as the ba'al toqe'a (the shofar guy) on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur.
There is a moment, particularly during the sounding of the teqi'ah gedolah, the longest blast, of near total reflection - of processing past and present in the context of that evocative sound. This is the holiest moment, the one that we come to the synagogue to join in. This is the power of the shofar, the ability to resonate our memories together with our hopes for the future. This is the moment that I look forward to every year.
One shofar blast is worth at least a thousand words.
Showing posts with label resonance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label resonance. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tuesday Morning Kavvanah, 3/8/2011 - Ancient Resonance
Let's face it: to those who have not spent their lives immersed in the intricacies of Jewish text, tefillah and Jewish ritual can seem impenetrable, and somewhat hard to relate to for modern people. Why wake up early every morning to recite a litany of mostly-meaningless syllables in a foreign language? Why bind inscribed pieces of parchment to our heads and arms with leather straps? Why drape oneself in a rectangular garment with knots hanging off the corners?
If we do not feel the compulsion of commandedness (which is very hard for most of us to feel these days), these rituals may fall flat. But when I put on tefillin and tallit in the morning, when I recite the ancient words of Jewish liturgy, I feel the resonance of all the generations that came before me, generations of people who, I hope, felt closer to God than I ever will. And my ancestors used the same words of tefillah, liturgy that has been handed down to us today. Who are we to be indifferent to its power?
This historical resonance enables me to engage meaningfully with Jewish tradition.
If we do not feel the compulsion of commandedness (which is very hard for most of us to feel these days), these rituals may fall flat. But when I put on tefillin and tallit in the morning, when I recite the ancient words of Jewish liturgy, I feel the resonance of all the generations that came before me, generations of people who, I hope, felt closer to God than I ever will. And my ancestors used the same words of tefillah, liturgy that has been handed down to us today. Who are we to be indifferent to its power?
This historical resonance enables me to engage meaningfully with Jewish tradition.
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