24 Sep ROSH HASHANAH WHOLE, BROKEN, WHOLE: THE SECRET OF THE SHOFAR SOUNDS

On Rosh Hashanah
we produce three
sounds via the shofar.
The first sound is
called tekiah, a single
whole note. The
second is shevarim,
three shorter “broken”
notes, which sound like three sighs. The third
is called teruah, nine staccato notes in rapid
succession, which sound like the short sobs.
What do they represent? Tekiah reminds us
that once we were whole. Each of us was born
whole. Shevarim reminds us that in life we are
plagued by questions, confusion, and
disappointments; we become fragmented, and
scattered, causing our existential sighs. Teruah
reminds us how many people’s lives have
been shattered through various negative
experiences into tiny pieces. They are sobbing
consciously or unconsciously.
But what we do after each time we blow the
sounds of brokenness? We blow the tekiah
again. This reminds us that we can be restored
to wholeness again.
What is more, following all of the shofar
sounds, we reach the tekiah gedolah, three
sounds? We reach tekiah gedolah, “the great
tekiah”—one note that lasts as long as the
shofar-blower has breath, a much longer note
than the initial blast which began the cycle.
Through surviving brokenness, we can reach

an even deeper kind of wholeness than we
knew before.
The sages of the Talmud offered the following
teaching. A clay pot, being porous, is
susceptible to tumah, ritual impurity, through
contact with certain impure substances. If a
clay vessel becomes tamei, the way to make it
again tahor (ritually pure) is to break it and
then glue it back together. Through the pot’s
brokenness, in other words, wholeness is
restored; it become pure again.
We too are made from clay, as Bereishit
describes, “G-d created the human being clay
from the earth.” When we allow ourselves to
be open to our own vulnerability and
brokenness, we become capable of a deeper
and more powerful wholeness than we knew
in the first place. Tekiah gedolah packs its
punch precisely because it arises out of
scattered sounds. The places where we’re
glued back together are places where the light
of G-d can enter.
In the Rain
I once read an article, which related the
following experience:

She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-
Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this

beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of
innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of
rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so
much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time
to flow down the spout.

We all stood there under the awning and just
inside the door of the Wal-Mart. We waited,
some patiently, others irritated because nature
messed up our hurried day. I am always
mesmerized by rainfall. I get lost in the sound
and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt
and dust of the world.
Memories of running, splashing so carefree as
a child come pouring in as a welcome reprieve
from the worries of my day. Her voice was so
sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were
all caught in. “Mom, let’s run through the
rain,” she said.
“What?” Mom asked.
“Let’s run through the rain!” She repeated.
“No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a
bit,” Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute
and repeated: “Mom, let’s run through the
rain.”
“We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom said.
“No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you
said this morning,” the young girl said as she
tugged at her Mom’s arm.
“This morning? When did I say we could run
through the rain and not get wet?”
“Don’t you remember? When you were
talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said,
‘If G-d can get us through this, He can get us
through anything!’”
The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear

you couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all
stood silently. No one came or left in the next
few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a
moment about what she would say. Now some
would laugh it off and scold her for being silly.
Some might even ignore what was said. But
this was a moment of affirmation in a child’s
life. A time when innocent trust can be
nurtured so that it will bloom into confidence,
courage and faith.
“Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run
through the rain. If G-d let’s us get wet, well
maybe we just needed washing,” Mom said.
Then off they ran. We all stood watching,
smiling and laughing as they darted past the
cars and yes, through the puddles. They held
their shopping bags over their heads just in
case. They got soaked. But they were followed
by a few who screamed and laughed like
children all the way to their cars.
“And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed
washing.”
Shanah Tovah, a year of health, happiness,
prosperity, peace and redemption.