The Call of the Shofar

By John S. Ruskay

While apples and honey are the tastes I most associate with Rosh HaShanah, it is the sound of the shofar that I find most compelling. It is not the object that engages me but the sound that emanates from it: the clarion call that stills the synagogue. I can still vividly recall my father hoisting me high on his shoulders so I could strain to both hear and see the blowing of the shofar as the sound — tekiah! — filled the chamber. At once primitive and plaintive, rousing and quieting, the shofar cuts through the noise of contemporary life.

The sound resounds in our ears and in our hearts and seems to transport us to a timeless place beyond each of our individual experiences. At this amazing moment, we lean forward to hear the singular beautiful cry that engulfs the synagogue. In striving to hear this sound, we are brought closer to one another, reminding us that while we may have vastly different understandings of God, Torah, and obligation, we share history, destiny, and a magnificent sacred tradition.

This year, I hope each of us will listen a bit harder to the shofar. Really listen. We are concluding a summer whose usual quiet was pierced by a deluge of loud, almost deafening, angry debate with accusations flung far and wide and passions flared. The state of the economy. The conversion issue in Israel. The Muslim community center and mosque downtown. And far more. As the volume and intensity reached screeching levels, it became increasingly difficult for any of us to listen to one another. To hear different perspectives. To acknowledge that there just may be other ways of looking at things.

Our tradition has long recognized that there are multiple ways to understand an issue. Every verse of Torah has shivim panim — 70 faces, 70 different ways of interpreting each verse. Preserving the long-standing debates between the houses of Hillel and Shamai also captures this insight: truth can be elusive — each of us brings different perspectives, different journeys, and different values to bear when we assess a verse of text or a challenging issue. Our tradition repeatedly affirms that there is value in listening to others’ views, in working hard to understand them because they can enrich our thinking, broaden our understandings, move us closer to (though never achieving) “truth.”

A severe economic downturn in a post-9/11 world prompts rampant fears that can constrict our hearts and minds. And with the proliferation of media outlets, blogs, and 24-hour news cycles, it has never been easier to choose only to read the papers, listen to media, or accept views that reinforce our own positions. But the need has never been greater for each of us to lean forward and strive to listen, really listen, to other perspectives. For if we fail to listen, to hear one another — however difficult — we risk widening the divides between us, rendering us incapable of coming together to fulfill our shared obligation to care for one another, Israel, and the world.

As we prepare to dip the apple in honey and extend to members of our family and community wishes for a healthy and sweet new year, may we all listen intently to the clarion call of the shofar. May it lead us to deepen our intention to listen to one another both within our community and beyond — to those we like and those we do not, to those with whom we agree and those with whom we disagree. This will honor the deepest values of our people and serve us well as we navigate the challenges and opportunities that will face our people, our nation, and the world in the new year.

Shanah tovah.

John S. Ruskay is executive vice president & CEO of UJA-Federation of New York.