Weekly Torah Portion

Two weeks ago our family gathered to celebrate my father’s 80th birthday. The milestone brought together his six children and their spouses. As we shared stories, laughter, and love, the atmosphere was charged with a deep sense of gratitude and reflection. Toward the end of Shabbos, my father surprised us by pulling out a letter he had written to us. As he began to read, the room fell silent, our hearts hanging on his every word.

My father spoke of love, sacrifice, and the lessons he had learned over the years. His voice was filled with emotion, revealing the depth of his feelings in a way that transcended any typical birthday speech. With each word, the tears began to flow down his children’s cheeks.

Those tears expressed something profound—an acknowledgment of our shared history, struggles, and joys. We realized that sometimes, amid overwhelming emotion, words alone cannot encapsulate the richness of our experiences. Instead, our tears became the language of the heart, expressing what was too deep for words.

In just a few hours, the shofar will be blown, echoing throughout our synagogues. The shofar’s call is a broken cry, penetrating our hearts more effectively than any eloquent prayer could. In the Talmud we learn that “the sound of the shofar is a call to awaken the soul.” Its raw, unrefined notes invite us to confront our vulnerabilities and yearnings, urging us to reconnect with our Father in Heaven.

In the rush of everyday life, we often find ourselves too busy and distracted by urgent but unimportant tasks, neglecting our inner feelings and identity. The shofar breaks through this passivity, reaching deeper than words ever could. Its call awakens us to reflect on our most important relationships: with ourselves, with others, and with God, drawing us back to what truly matters.

As we prepare for Rosh Hashanah, we can remember that the shofar’s broken cry is a call to introspection and renewal. It encourages us to embrace our imperfections and to acknowledge our desires for connection, not just with one another but with our Creator.

The tears shed during my father’s celebration reminded me that powerful experiences often transcend spoken words, like the very essence of the shofar’s role. May we all merit that this Rosh Hashanah we pierce the heavens with the primal sound of the shofar – and receive the ultimate, wordless connection with our father in Heaven.