The Voices of 5784’s Shofar
This piece was originally given as a Rosh Hashanah drasha at Netivot Shalom in Teaneck, NJ.
The piercing cry of the shofar gives voice to our deepest longings and vulnerabilities and calls us to return to Hashem. The rabbis attributed this cry, which we traditionally sound one hundred times over the course of Rosh HaShanah, as well as each morning during the month of Elul, at the commemoration of Yovel, and at the close of Yom Kippur– to the sounds of women who historically knew raw and wordless emotion.
Rabbeinu Chananel of 11th century Kairouan attributed the source of our counting one hundred soundings on Rosh HaShanah to Sisera’s mother. He writes, ׳מאה פעיות פעתה אימה דסיסרא ואלין עשר (או) אינון כשגומרין כל התפלה קל תקועייא דיחידאה מתבעי למהוי עשרה תשר”ת תש”ת תר”ת והן מאה.׳, ‘Sisera’s mother cried one hundred cries, and we hold over ten. When we complete all of our personal prayers and the ninety shofar blows sounded during them, we must add a final ten TaSHRaT, TaSHaT, TaRaT [the shofar blows], and this comes to a total of one hundred blows [like Sisera’s mother cried].’ Rabbeinu Chananel’s attribution of the one hundred blasts to the cries of Sisera’s mother was codified by Rabbeinu Shemaya, by Natan ben Yechiel (1035-1106) in his ערוך, and by the Tosafists. The obligation of shofar applies to hearing a minimum of thirty uninterrupted blasts, but our widespread practice is to hear 100.
Sisera, a biblical enemy of the Jews, was defeated by Devorah and Barak and then killed by Yael. In Shoftim 5:28, we imagine Sisera’s mother poignantly waiting at the window for her son to return home from battle. In this emotionally wrought moment we read, ‘בְּעַד הַחַלּוֹן נִשְׁקְפָה וַתְּיַבֵּב אֵם סִיסְרָא, בְּעַד הָאֶשְׁנָב: מַדּוּעַ, בֹּשֵׁשׁ רִכְבּוֹ לָבוֹא– מַדּוּעַ אֶחֱרוּ, פַּעֲמֵי מַרְכְּבוֹתָיו?’
‘Through the window Sisera’s mother peered, through the lattice she sobbed: ‘Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why so delayed the wheels of his chariots?’ The Gemara in Masechet Rosh HaShanah 33b even bases the exact measurement of the shofar sounds on ׳וַתְּיַבֵּב׳, the length of Sisera’s mother’s sobs.
To add another layer, in his 20th century biblical commentary Meshech Chochmah, Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk additionally links our one hundred blows to a woman in longing and even desperation (Vayikra Parshat Emor Perek 23). This woman is a woman in labor. He cites a midrash from Vayikra Rabbah 27:7, ‘ק’ פעיות שהאשה פועה בשעה שיושבת על המשבר: תשעים ותשעה למיתה ואחת לחיים.’ ‘A woman cries one hundred cries at the time when she gives birth: ninety-nine of death and one of life.’
All this leads us to ask: Why are our shofar blasts, which are meant to inspire us to return to our Creator, tied to the image of these two women, Sisera’s mother (the mother of our enemy) and a woman in the throes of birth pangs?
The mother of Sisera and the woman in labor both knew vulnerability, pain, and transience. They knew war, the suffering it takes to bring life into this world, and that of when it is taken away. They also knew hope and grasped tightly to that one cry in the midst of ninety-nine that would yield life. Our tradition recognizes the power inherent in the cries of a mother who will always devote herself to the life of her child, even at the cost of her own pain. And in blowing the shofar, we ask Hashem to respond similarly to us as His children. Traditionally, women would wail professionally at funerals as a means of honoring the deceased (called mekonenot). For a woman’s cry, shrill, piercing, and raw touches an uncovered place in the soul that ordinarily remains concealed. The voice of the shofar awakens a primal yearning within us to draw close to our Creator and to devote ourselves to that cry for life. We pray, ׳בראש השנה יכתבון וביום צום כפור יחתמון׳, ‘On Rosh HaShanah it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed’. We stand before God praying that we will be written in the Book of Life, and the sound of the shofar elevates and contextualizes our cries within those of Sisera’s mother and the woman in labor.
The first, Sisera’s mother, cries with frantic hope and longing, even in the midst of ultimate loss. Through the shofar blows we evoke this longing, as though crying, ‘Please Hashem, do not abandon us! Give us good news!’ The second, the woman in labor, cries in agony, and yet through her pain she cries a cry of life, and her child is born. Echoing this pain, we pray, ‘Hashem, You are our Creator. Let us be written in the Book of Life! Let our cries of longing and pain birth renewal, a year of life for all of humanity, and closeness to You.’
With this in mind, I am going to ask us to do something difficult now. To hear the cries– women’s and mens– that we add to our shofar sounds this year. Those made since we last stood in this room hearing shofar. The Baal Shem Tov teaches that God’s home has many gates and doors, leading to many halls and chambers. Each door has a different lock and key. There is only one key that unlocks all of the doors, including the innermost room of God’s home. That key is a broken heart. But in order for שברים, תרועה, תקיעה, to unlock every door for us, our hearts need to be brokenhearted, broken open too. And so– to the extent that we each feel able– we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and raw, to cry before our Creator, not just knocking קול דודי דופק, but unlocking.
We hear the screams before silence of the women who were attacked on October 7th, as well as the hostages since, including those freed and those still captive. Men, women, and children, whose cries we cannot forget, as stifled as they may be. The screams and sobs of mothers, of fathers, siblings, friends, grandparents– who have mourned the death of children and loved ones. Those murdered on October 7th, and the chayalim and chayalot who courageously gave their lives to defend and protect Medinat Yisrael and Am Yisrael since. This past week was the shloshim of Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Alexander, Almog, and Ori, the tears and cries from their murders still ringing in our ears. We listen to the tears and strength of mothers waiting at the window, praying (including in this room) for good news as their children in Tzahal defend our people. The blasts of the shofar hold all of these screams and cries and tefillot. Somehow, as mixed and pained as it feels, even hold the cries of the modern day Eim Sisera of our enemy. They hold the blasts of bombs over the past year on all sides, especially most recently from Hezbollah and the barrage of missiles from Iran right before Rosh Hashanah.
And…like the woman in labor who in the midst of pain, creates life– we also hear the sounds of joy from weddings, births, bnai mitzvah, and all of the smachot that Am Yisrael continued to create this 5784. The miraculous blasts of the Iron Dome intercepting rockets. The destruction of our enemies. The music and dancing at Jewish rallies and the beautiful voices of children singing “Am Yisrael Chai” in our local day schools. When I hear my own child sing these words, there is no greater comfort or hope. This has been a year of tears, of crying out in tefillah, of hearing the silence of those not crying with us, and of our choice to continue living, to continue to have hope and to be a source of goodness and light.
Notice, accept, reflect: How do the shofar’s kolot resound within you? As individuals and as a kahal, the shofar blasts may bring up trauma and the pouring out of tears. It may bring to mind personal losses – of loved ones and of plans– as well as of moments of personal smachot– as with any other year. It may be a sigh of relief to finally have that scream heard, in community and by God. We may feel its sound echo in the hollow chambers of hearts still broken and unanswered. For this, we are grateful to hear 100 kolot- not just 30- because there are so many voices to bear witness to and hear amongst us. May we allow ourselves to cry with the shofar, to sing with the shofar, to hear our wordless tefillot in the shofar, to hear its sound of freedom (as connected to Yovel), and let it herald the gathering in all of those exiled and downtrodden. Jews around the world today, of all denominations, will be doing the same. With the same broken hearts. And the same commitment to hope.
I leave us with words of a Shofar Kavanah by Rav Avi Weiss. As I read them, I invite you to breathe in and out, preparing your inhale and exhale as if you are the baal tokea, creating space in your lungs and heart to give voice to these the kolot. Please have in mind halachically that the baal tokea is saying the brachot on your behalf, fulfilling your chiyuv, as you say “Amen”. We thank God for the opportunity to blow shofar, and for giving us another year of life.
נשף את הרוח, Exhale the breath
אֲשֶר נָּפַּח הָּאֱ-להִים בָּאדָּם, God blew into Adam
הַּגְבֵּר אֶת עָּצְמָּתוֹ, Turn up the volume
שֶל קוֹלָּּה הַּפְנִימִי שֶל הַּנֶפֶׁש, On the soul’s inner voice
בַּקָּּשָּׁה. תְבִיעָּה. זְעָּקָּה. A plea, demand, cry
שִׁירָּה. מָּחוֹל. תְפִלָּה. A song, dance, prayer
שְׁתִיקָּה. Silence
לְבַּד. יַּחְדָּו בְתֵּאום מֻשְׁלָּם. A solo, a harmony