Rabbi Weill's Blog

Dear Friends:

As the High Holy Days approached, the congregation needed a shofar blower. The rabbi rushed off an email to the congregation: Shofar Blower Needed! Tryouts: Monday, 5 pm.”  She had no idea if anyone would come at such short notice. But three congregants were waiting in the sanctuary at the appointed time.  The rabbi sat in the first row and said, “Please give me one tekiah gedolah and an explanation as to why you believe you should be our shofar blower.”

The first shofar blower stepped forward. He was a prominent member of the community, a proud business owner, and a synagogue board member. He lifted a grand shofar to his lips and let loose a great blast that shook the sanctuary’s rafters!  He then addressed the rabbi, “Well, you know who I am.  Who doesn't?? And you could hear my blast. Who couldn’t?? On Rosh Hashanah, I would rock the house!”

“Okay, have a seat,” said the rabbi, “Next!”

The second shofar blower stepped forward.  A bassoon player in the city’s orchestra, she smiled winningly at the rabbi and placed the shofar to her lips. Such a sound! It began with a plaintive whimper, rose to a heart-wrenching keen, and ended with a deep flourish.  She lowered the shofar, gave a melodramatic sigh, and said, “Well, you know who I am, of course! With my horn-blowing experience and artistic sensibility, my shofar blast will make people weep!”

“Thanks,” said the rabbi, “Have a seat. Next!”

The third shofar blower stepped forward. The rabbi didn't recognize him. He tentatively placed the little brown shofar upon his lips.  It made a sound. Not too loud, but loud enough. Not too long, but long enough.  A respectable tekiah gedolah but, like his shofar, unremarkable. He smiled sheepishly and said, “This shofar was my grandfather’s but I never heard him blow it. I saw your email and figured the congregation needed some help. Besides, I’m between jobs and have some time to practice. But you obviously have better blowers than I!”   

As he began to leave, the rabbi exclaimed, “Awesome! You're our new shofar blower!”

The other two shofar blowers, shocked, rushed out to complain to friends.  The congregation’s new shofar blower, meanwhile, went home to practice.

This story, adapted by me from the Chasidic tradition, warns us: on the High Holy Days, our best credentials are for naught.  G-d, whom we imagine sitting on the throne of judgment, cares not a whit about them.  Rather, the most important High Holy Day credential is humility, a sense of personal diminishment.  Teshuva, repentance, demands a softened heart. 

We often walk into synagogue preoccupied by silly externalities, too confident in ourselves, and too often judgmental of others. Nattering nabobs of negativism

We ought to fight these impulses. We ought to strive mightily to enter the Days of Awe feeling like a novice, a rookie, nervous about G-d’s judgment, yet hopeful for G-d’s mercy; regretful for past behavior and gracious to all.  It is tall order, yes. But if we at least try to evoke such humility, these awesome days may very well put us on the path to true repentance.

L’shana tova tikateivu – May you be inscribed for a good year!

Rabbi Jeffrey Weill