Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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Category: shofar

#BlogElul: What is my purpose? #takeaseatmakeafriend

September 2, 2013 /

Every time I officiate at a funeral, and every time I hear a eulogy, the question of purpose in life arises for me. At each of those funerals and in each of those eulogies, I hear different answers to the question. What I have learned is that there is not ‘an answer’ to our existence. The meaning-making comes from the specific choices that each of us has made and the specific paths that each of us have travelled.

When you ask yourself the question, don’t expect to arrive at ‘the’ answer. But to live without regrets, to live mindfully, choosing your path in each and every moment, requires that we carry the question in our hearts at all times.  Only this can ensure that we don’t sleep-walk our way through life.

The sound of the shofar is our wake up call. Where are you? What are you here to do in this very moment?

#BlogElul 7: Shofar – the cry of compassion

August 25, 2012 /
One of the midrashim that seeks to explain the origins of the different calls on the Shofar that we sound out each Rosh Hashanah has had the most impact on my understanding of teshuvah and the call to action signified by the Shofar blasts.  It tells us that the shofar calls were modeled on the sound of Sisera’s mother, wailing while she waited at the window for his return from battle.

Who was Sisera and who was his mother?

In the story of Devorah, the Judge, Sisera is the enemy.  He is the General that Devorah and her army general, Barak, are out to defeat.  There is a poignant line toward the end of the story, when we are told that Sisera’s mother waits at her window for his return.  It is poignant because we, the reader, know that he has been defeated and has fled.  But his end is gruesome.  A woman, Yael, encourages him to rest in her tent.  She feeds him and gives him drink and, when he is asleep, she cuts off his head.

‘Hurrah! The enemy is defeated!’ might be our response.  But then we find a rabbinic midrash that suggests that the sounds of the Shofar, that most emblematic of sounds for the High Holydays, remind us of the cries of Sisera’s mother.

In the midst of our season of return, when we are seeking forgiveness, when we are asked to find it in our hearts to forgive others, we struggle with our desire for justice in our world and the world’s need for compassion.  That, after all, is the moral of the story of Jonah that we read on Yom Kippur.  If we are all Jonahs then cities will be destroyed and who could stand in judgment?  But if we are in the image of God, we respond with compassion, particularly when we see remorse in the words or actions of another.

The sound of the Shofar reminds us that even those that we regard as our enemies… even those who we regard as evil and have committed the worst atrocities – they have a mother.  And that mother cries out in sorrow when harm comes to them.

Framing our world in this way, I have found myself able to be less angry at wrong-doing in the world, and, instead, feel the emotions of deep sadness.  It doesn’t make me any less desiring to act in ways that might help make this world a little better.  But instead of running in with sword unleashed, angrily battling the world of injustice, the sound of the Shofar asks me to see the world with greater empathy.  It calls me to unleash a little more love and compassion in the ways that I seek to make a difference.

And I can thank Sisera’s mother for reminding me of these valuable lessons.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Blogging Elul 5771: Did you remember to set your alarm clock?

September 27, 2011 /
This piece was published by one of our local weekly newspaper consortiums, Hersam Acorn, and appeared in print this week in the Amity Observer, Bridgeport News, Milford Mirror, and Trumbull Times.

This entry is my closing posting for Elul 5771.  I wish you all a Shanah Tovah um’tukah – a Sweet and Happy New Year.  May we all experience fully the blessing of life, and offer blessings to others through our words and deeds.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which begins on Wednesday, September 28 in the evening, is a very different kind of New Year to January 1st.  ‘The Choosing’ is a recently-published memoir in which a Jew-by-choice and now Rabbi, Andrea Myers, tells the story of the first year her Italian-Catholic family encountered Rosh Hashanah.  She was living back at home with her parents and, after a long walk to a synagogue for evening services on the first night of the New Year, she returned home late, quite exhausted.  She was awoken at midnight from a deep sleep when her family, wanting so lovingly to help her celebrate, arrived in her bedroom clanging pots and pans, letting off streamers, and shouting ‘Happy New Year!’  The loud sounds more typically heard on Rosh Hashanah are the blasts of the shofar – the ram’s horn, and we usually hear those at the quite respectable time of late morning.  The shofar is, however, metaphorically, our communal ‘wake up’ call.
While the secular New Year is a time when many people make ‘New Years’ Resolutions’, the Jewish New Year marks a period of time when we first look back at our deeds from the past year.  Our worship liturgy speaks of God who holds us accountable, but the inner work that the New Year requires of us is really about how we hold ourselves accountable and take responsibility for our mistakes, the hurt we have caused others, and the ways we have behaved unethically or thoughtlessly.  If we really engage in this spiritual work, we can emerge ten days later, at the end of Yom Kippur – the Day of Atonement – transformed.  If we have the courage to speak to those whom we have hurt, and ask forgiveness, we can transform the relationships we have with others.
In the world we live in today, it almost feels deeply unfashionable to talk of a spiritual practice and a faith community that asks us to engage in a personal accountability inventory in this way.  There are those who speak in the name of faith, or offer spiritual paths, that emphasize what these things can do for you.  What about what we can do for others?  Faith is not about wish fulfillment.  It is about the meaning and purpose of our very existence as human beings.  It is about being fully present to life and to each other in all of the downs as well as the ups.  It is about the hard work of doing things together as communities with shared values, recognizing that no one person is more important than another, yet at the same time each and every one of us is necessary and has a unique voice to add as we work together to make things better.
As the Jewish community arrives at Rosh Hashanah, my hope and prayer is that we can learn from the wisdom of our ancient faith traditions, and hear the sound of the shofar as our alarm clock, reminding us of the perils of living in too much of ‘me’ society and not enough of an ‘us’ society.  The spiritual work of taking account, repairing what we can, and rededicating ourselves to the future takes courage and strength.  May we, by coming together, give each other the courage and strength that we need.
Shanah tovah u’m’tukah – May it be a sweet and good year for all.

14 Tishrei. High Holyday Sermons available online

October 1, 2009 /

If you would like to read, review, or forward this year’s High Holyday sermons, delivered by Rabbi Jim Prosnit and Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz at Congregation B’nai Israel, they are now available here.  This year, a wide range of themes were covered, from civility in society, to end of life decisions, to finding sources of spiritual consolation in our tradition in these challenging times, to reflections on why faith, and communities of faith, matter.

Our Ba’al Tekiah, Stuart Edelstein, also delivered a wonderful sermon on the Shofar, and the spiritual signficance of the Shofar notes, reflecting on his twentieth year as Ba’al Tekiah at Congregation B’nai Israel.  You can read his text here.

We certainly welcome your comments and reflections, and invite you to share these High Holyday messages with others who you think may be nourished by them.

7 Tishrei. Have a little faith – returning again to the writing of Mitch Albom

September 25, 2009 /
Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul
Return to who you are, return to what you are, return to where you are,
born and reborn again.
(Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach)
Mitch Albom speaks to me.  Not directly – we’ve never met.  But he speaks to me, and to many, many others too.  He is a talented writer, and I have found his books to make some of the deepest experiences and questions about the meaning of life accessible in a way that helps me figure out what I want to say and how I want to say it.  This year, my Yom Kippur sermon  (which will be posted at our congregational website next week) is framed by excerpts from his new book, ‘Have a Little Faith.’  The book is actually on shelves on Tuesday, the day after Yom Kippur, but I received a pre-publication copy and, once again, Mitch Albom has written a book that deeply to speaks to me and, I’m sure, will speak to millions of others.
Nine years ago I read ‘Tuesdays with Morrie.’  As I looked through my High Holyday files, I found a creative service that I had compiled for Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, weaving excerpts from that book with the prayers of the morning liturgy.  One excerpt jumped off the page again; the words of Morrie Schwartz, z’l, as a meditation on the 10 days of return:
“The truth is, Mitch,” he said, “once you learn how to die, you learn how live.” … Did you think much about death before you got sick, I asked.  “No.”  Morrie smiled.  “I was like everyone else.  I once told a friend of mine, in a moment of exuberance, ‘I’m gonna be the healthiest old man you ever met!'” … Like I said, no one really believes they’re going to die.”  But everyone knows someone who has died, I said.  Why is it so hard to think about dying?  “Because,” Morrie continued, “most of us all walk around as if we’re sleepwalking.  We really don’t experience the world fully, because we’re half-asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do.”
On Rosh Hashanah, the shofar sounded: Wake up, you sleepers!  Are we living each day, awake to the realization that the blessing of this moment might not be tomorrow?  Are we driving along the highway of our lives in automatic, or are we noticing the scenery, the people we encounter along the way, taking time to explore the side streets and the neighborhoods as we journey on?  Have we returned, and tuned in to our innermost essence, who we really are?
“Be compassionate,” Morrie whispered.  “And take responsibility for each other.  If we only learned those lessons, this world would be so much better a place.”  He took a breath, then added his mantra: “Love each other or die.”
Shabbat Shalom, v’gmar tov – a good fast
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Elul 21. A Break-fast that sustains body and soul

September 9, 2009 /

Preparing myself for the Days of Awe…it starts today with the ingredients sitting on my kitchen counter, ingredients waiting to be made into kugels, souffles, casseroles and quiches.  Into the freezer they’ll then go, and on September 28 out on the break-fast table they’ll be.  For the past 25 years, hosting break-fast has been our family tradition.  We are usually 30 – 40 strong, even after 24 hours of fasting.  We come together hungry, reflective, sometimes plainly satisfied, sometimes observedly solemn.  With open anticipation, we all crowd into the dining room.  


Our break-fast begins with our own family ritual, an assertive blast of the shofar.  The defining moment is when I raise my bagel for Hamotzi and look around at all the faces, the familiar faces of friends and family who are with us year after year, the faces of new lives and new friends, the missing faces.  It is at that moment that I realize, measure and find myself in awe of all that is the same and all that has changed.  It is at that moment that I take stock of the year that has passed and catch a glimpse of the year to come.  
L’Shanah Tovah, 
Elaine Chetrit

14 Elul. A Unique Response to the Call of the Shofar

September 2, 2009 /

As we are almost half-way through the month of Elul, I thought it was time for a little light relief. A congregant pointed me to this wonderful youtube video – a truly unique response to the call of the Shofar.

Of course, we can find some of the deepest truths embedded in humor. And this little video clip is no exception. The sound of the shofar, wailing and soulful, is a powerful sound that resonates deeply within when we hear it. The question for us is what will our response be? For some it may be contemplation of life’s choices; for some it might be tears caused by life’s losses; for some it might be remembrance of Jewish holidays with family in years past, perhaps accompanied by a yearning to find some of that yiddishkeit in their own lives once more; for some it might be a call to action – to recommit to make a difference in this world.


I am a trumpet player and so, over the years, I have blown shofar in different settings – brass players find it relatively easy to sound the shofar. There is one big difference for me between playing the trumpet and blowing the shofar. When I play the trumpet I feel as though I am sending vibrations through the instrument, trying to do so in a way that makes its sound ring vibrantly, soar and shine as best as I can. When I blow shofar, I feel it sending its vibrations through me, shaking me out of my slumber, calling upon me to soar and shine as best as I can.


When you hear the call of the shofar this year, listen carefully; listen differently. Let the vibrations from those wailing calls penetrate deeply, opening heart and soul, demanding a response.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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