I am not particularly religious, more of a cultural Jew. Because of my family’s Brooklyn bakery, the New Year, Rosh Hashanah, celebration played a big part in my life. My father baked the round challahs and sponge cakes. Sticky teiglaches were prepared, and I was summoned to man the cash register as people lined up to buy their holiday favorites.

The bakery is long gone from my life, but the holiday is not, and I celebrate at my bother and sister-in-law’s temple, Beth-El in Stamford, Connecticut. There are many parts of the service that stir my heart, like the Hineni, ​“I am here” prayer, that rouses me to stand taller. But most of all it is the sound of the ancient ram’s horn, the Shofar, that is my wake up call. It is an alarm that brings me together with others eager to search for meaning, seek forgiveness and create value for the future. 

There are three Shofar notes, each has significance. The one long note, Tekiah, sounds like a sob and represents hope. Then, there is a series of three short wails, Shevarim, that remind us of sorrow and weeping for one’s past. The last, Teruah, has at least nine staccato blasts that urgently tell us to act. One more final long blast, Tekiah Gedolah, tells us to face our complacency and fears. That sound, sometimes uncomfortable, carries a moral weight. It is a familiar clarion cry summoning us to face it and to fix it. 

Thank you for listening, and wishing everyone a healthy and a happy New Year.