Who is the most important person in this room today? This is not a trick question. …
The most important person in this room this morning is not the chazzan and not the rabbi, it’s a volunteer, and his name is… Watch this, I am about to give someone an all-out panic attack. The most important person in shul this morning is Aaron Polun.
Aaron is the Baal Tokeiah; he will be blowing the Shofar at our shul. That is the only Biblical obligation we have today. We could skip the sermon, the chazzan can get hoarse, and we will be just fine. But if Aaron does not blow that Shofar, we are in trouble.
Ironically, the Shofar is the hardest part of the services to connect to. We may feel nostalgic hearing the Shofar; it may be exciting to see how long the Tekiah Gedola will last, but in terms of the meaning and symbolism of the Shofar blasts? It’s quite hard to connect to.
Last week, Aaron brought this up to me, and asked me what he should be thinking about when he blows the shofar. It was such a refreshing question. It’s not just the technical elements that need to be met; he wanted to properly represent the congregation with his intentions, with kavannah. I shared with him a classic thought from the Baal Shem Tov, the father of the Chassidic movement. The Baal Shem Tov explains that the Shofar is a primal scream. We do not always have the words, we sometimes don’t even have the thoughts, but there is pain, there is yearning, and it wants to be expressed. The Shofar is the tool to convey that call from deep deep within.
I suggested to him that when he blows the shofar he should think about all the silent screams that fill this room and fill the world and bring them to Hashem. I suggested that he look at our new Bima cover with the names of all those murdered since October 7th and think about the cries of their families, to think about the cries of the tens of men, women, and children, still in captivity, the cries of the mothers and fathers and spouses and children whose loved one is on the front line. The cries of the people, many of whom stifled their own cry, because they felt it would be small-minded to cry while so much was going on in Israel, but instead of going away, their silent cry grew louder and louder. That’s what I told Aaron to think about when he blows the shofar for our congregation.
But two days ago, I realized made a mistake. Yes, a primal cry is one of the symbolisms of the shofar blast, but I do not think that’s what you or any of us should be thinking about as the shofar is blown today.
There is another symbolism, suggested by the Vilna Gaon. It’s a symbolism that I struggle to connect to, but I’m hoping that maybe if I share this with you, we could help each other experience what I believe to be the true meaning of the shofar this year.
Hayom haras Olam. Today we celebrate G-d creating the world. The Hebrew term for world is olam. Kabbalists explain that this word olam is related to the word he’elem, which means hiddenness. And that’s because when G-d created the world, He hid. Why He hid is a discussion for another time but hide He did.
What G-d hiding means is that we do not see G-d’s hand or presence in this world; instead, we see chaos and injustice. Good people suffer. The undeserving prosper. It’s a world which screams at every corner, leis din v’leis dayan! There is no justice, there is no judge! Not only is the G-dliness of the world hidden away, but the G-dliness that exists within each and every one of us is also hidden; the precious soul that is a refraction of G-d Himself is concealed in a physical, lustful, material body. It’s as if G-d took a huge thick blanket and covered Himself.
When people are going through difficult times; when they have prayed and prayed and G-d did not answer their prayers, when people who are so sweet and good go through such hardships, and they ask me, how could G-d do this to me? It breaks my heart emotionally. But philosophically, it’s hard to say this out loud, but it makes sense. We live in a world of he’elem, of hiddenness. When G-d created the world, He went into hiding. And when we were exiled from the land of Israel 2000 years ago, G-d, so to speak, placed another even thicker blanket over Himself. Ha’hastara sheb’soch ha’hasatara. Basic Jewish philosophy will tell you that we do not get to see justice in this world.
As Jews we believe, as one of our principles of faith, that there will be a time when that blanket will be removed. When the light of G-d will illuminate the world. Evil will be punished; the righteous will be given their due reward; we will not be seduced by the artificial flashing lights of our modern world. We call that time Mashiach, or the Messianic Era. But until that time, we wait. Achakeh lo b’chol yom she’yavo.
This past Friday, a hole was ripped in those blankets of concealment.
The façade of a world without G-d, a world without justice, was pierced.
Hassan Nasrallah, the head of Hezbollah, was the mastermind and spiritual force behind countless murders of both Israeli and American citizens since the 1980’s. He was an anti-Zionist, an antisemite, an anti-anyone who was not a devout Shiite Muslim; he wreaked havoc on the world. And now he is gone. His cronies are gone. His beeper-wearing minions are gone.
That is not a he’elem reality; that is a Messianic reality. As Jews, we do not expect to see justice in this world until the time of Mashiach. But the light of Mashiach shined through.
Now I know this makes me sound like a fanatic. We don’t discuss Mashiach in polite society. It’s a belief we keep in the back of our mind and in the back of the siddur. But wait until I’m done; then you’ll really call me a fanatic. Because I realized that it was not just one hole in that 2000-year blanket of hiddenness. No. There is an explosion of Messianic light bursting through; there are other holes in the blanket that I have been ignoring.
Returning to the land of Israel, is that not Messianic? And for us to not only live in our homeland, but to have developed one of the most impressive economies and militaries, and straight-out-of-a-movie military spy agencies, is that not a gaping hole in the façade of G-d’s hiddenness?!
October 7th was horrendous and heartbreaking. But it was also the given, that is what we are supposed to expect in a pre-Messianic era where injustice reigns supreme. It fit very neatly in 2000 years of history of enemies attacking Jews. But for the Jewish People to stand up and dust themselves off? For the Jewish People to say, We will dance again?! For Iran to attack Israel not once but twice with a barrage of hundreds of missiles and the only casualties to be an Arab and a Druze girl?!
We are not living in the Messianic Era, but the Messianic light at the end of the exile-tunnel is bright as can be. The blanket G-d used to conceal Himself is shredding into pieces.
And once you start looking for it, you can see this Messianic light in the craziest of places. Even some of the cultural shifts that are on the one hand so disturbing are also bringing in G-d’s light. For example, there is nothing that annoys me more than the ‘trophy for trying’ mentality our society has adopted. It infantilizes our youth and does not prepare them for the real world. But there is also something Divine, a taste of a Messianic world, that is shining through this cultural shift –
You see, though we cannot see her or feel her, each one of us possesses a soul. That soul is purer than pure, it is described as a piece of G-d. And no matter what we do, no matter how far we fall, no matter what sins we’ve committed, that soul remains, at its core, pure as can be. That soul represents that unbreakable bond with G-d. G-d loves us, accepts us, and cares for us, no matter what.
It’s very hard for many of us to swallow that. Does G-d really love me? Does G-d really see the good in me despite all the times I’ve ignored Him? Come on.
For most of history those questions prevented us from feeling that acceptance. But in the Messianic world, there is a trophy waiting for us all; v’ameich kulam tzadikim. And to be clear, some will get very big trophies, some will get very small trophies. If we waste our life away, if we ignore our soul, there are consequences. But the bond, the love, the acceptance from Hashem, whether we keep every Mitzvah or keep none at all, that bond is everlasting. So yes, we have some bizarre cultural shifts going on around us, but can you see the Messianic light mixed in? Can you see it shining through?
Now if I am correct in my fanaticism, that G-d is giving us a sneak-peek of the times of Mashiach, He probably wants us to do something in return. Don’t you think?
If G-d is shining a Messianic light onto us, we should probably shine a Messianic light back to Him.
What that means is very simple – the only really big difference between now and the Messianic era is one emotion – simcha, joy. In Shir Hamaalos we say, Az yimalei s’chok pinu, “Then” – in the Messianic Era – “our mouths will be filled with laughter.” In a world in which we see justice, in a world in which we feel G-d’s loving embrace, that’s a world in which we could experience true joy.
But if G-d is acting Messianic now, then perhaps we could do the same.
We have spent so much time this past year crying. We have spent so many hours wringing our hands at the state of antisemitism. We have anxiously paced our homes wondering what will be in Israel and what is the future of America. But I don’t think that’s what G-d wants from us.
There is a story told of the Baal Shem Tov. He lived in the 18th century, during a time when the lights of Mashiach were also shining through, but in a very different way. The societal changes he experienced in his life inspired him to start a movement, and one of the salient features of this movement was not so coincidently, the emotion and expression of simcha.
It was a controversial movement and the Baal Shem Tov was constantly defending himself and his followers. One day he was asked why it was that his followers were always dancing and singing, how they could always be happy in such a dark world. The Baal Shem Tov replied with a parable:
There was once a musician who came to a village and started playing on a street corner. This musician was something else; his music was uplifting and lively, beautiful music like they never heard before. People walking by stopped in their tracks. Within a few moments, there was a dance flash mob in the middle of the street.
And then a deaf man walked by. He looked at the town people jumping up and down and shook his head. “The whole city has lost their mind.” And he walked away.
Said the Baal Shem Tov, “Just because most people are deaf to the beautiful music of the world, does not mean my chassidim should stop dancing. Just because they could see what others fail to see does not mean they should not be in a perpetual state of joy.”
Kierkegaard wrote: “It takes moral courage to grieve; it takes religious courage to rejoice.” But today, in October of 2024, I don’t think we need that much courage. We need to just open our eyes and ears.
If you are alive today, then you have witnessed G-d busting through that dark blanket with a flourishing State of Israel; you have seen the light of a Jewish spy agency that is playing out stories straight out of the Bible; you have seen bright justice in a world of darkness.
Just yesterday I saw a very prominent man post the following on Twitter: “[I am a] fiercely Jewish atheist willing to wrap [tefillin]. What’s the bare minimum of prayer involved… in case [the] religious aspect of my belief system is wrong?”
He, like so many, is seeing G-d like we’ve never seen before. He, like so many, is bursting with pride to be a Jew, to be part of a remarkable, uplifting, persevering, and tough-as-nails nation that has truly woken up from a 2000-year slumber. When the Nazis attacked my great-grandparents they put their heads down. But now? We Will Dance Again! Ashreinu mah tov chelkeinu! Look around! There is light everywhere!
And to be abundantly clear, I do not know if we will experience the Messianic era tomorrow or even in my lifetime. But the walls between this world and the next are crumbling, there is light shining through, music bursting forth, and we’d be crazy ignore it.
Over the next hour and a half, we could choose to scream a primal scream. We could focus on all the prayers that speak to the scary judgment of Rosh Hashana, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by focusing on the many prayers that thank G-d for choosing us, me and you, as His people, for no reason at all.
Over the next three days, we could find all the ways our family members are failing us, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by focusing on how they support us.
Over the next ten days, we could focus on all the reasons we are not doing well enough and be crushed by our shame, or we could be b’simcha, in a state of Messianic joy, by reminding ourselves that G-d loves us no matter what, and to allow ourselves to feel that embrace.
Over the next year, we could choose to march along like we have for 2000 years. Or we could say, no! This is different. G-d is acting differently. And I too will do the same.
So, Aaron, you want to know what to think about as you blow the Shofar? It is not a primal scream. We are well past that. The shofar, in the Hebrew year 5785, is the sound of a trumpet. Nagein b’teruah. It is music, it is song, it is joy. It is light. It is an echo of the most famous shofar, the tekiah gedolah, that will burst through the remaining darkness and banish whatever hiddenness is left.
Ladies and gentlemen, let’s dedicate this year to simcha. Enough tears! Enough kvetching! Enough crying! Let us embrace the light-filed chutzpah of the Messianic era that is shining through our people. Let’s not dance again sometime in the future. Let’s dance again right now. Let’s dance again today.
I do not mean that figuratively. I mean that literally.
I cannot think of a more appropriate way to set the stage for the blowing of the shofar this year. Please join me…