by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel -- Will the real Rosh Hashanah please step forward! On the one hand, Rosh Hashanah is Biblically called Yom T'ruah - usually translated as the day of the blowing of the shofar. The literal meaning of t'ruah, however, is a broken staccato sound, Talmudically defined (BT Rosh Hashanah 33b) as either a three-fold sigh (ginuhei genah, shvarim) or a nine-fold wail (yelulei yalil, t'ruah), or a combination of the two. Since Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year, the anniversary of the creation of the world - or more precisely of the creation of the first human being - the t'ruah sound expresses an implicit recognition that we live in a world of lamentations, a human predicament in which pain and suffering is real and palpable, where the innocent are often destroyed together with the wicked in natural disasters such as the recent devastation in the wake of the earthquake in Turkey. Their collective sob was a t'ruah to G d.

But if our Sages only wanted us to think of the world on Rosh Hashanah in terms of a 'long day's journey into a night of death and despair,' then why the additional appellation, 'the day of the birth of the world".? No matter how we translate "HaYom Harat Olam", the very phrase implies all of the optimism of a new beginning; indeed, the words mean: "today the world is being born," a declaration which brings to mind all the hope and promise that newborn children bring to the world. If we learn to regard the world on Rosh Hashanah as a newborn creation, dazzling us with its beauty and freshness and innocence, then we have made significant progress in making the 'new year' meaningful in our lives. And Rosh Hashanah is after all considered a festival of joy, which cancels any individual mourning and must be celebrated with special food and holiday dress. How may we reconcile the tragically sad day of the sigh-sob with the joyously optimistic day of the world's re-creation?

I believe the answer lies in a second 'symbol of the shofar, which is also the instrument by which we are asked to coronate or "empower" G d - at least according to a striking Talmudic passage and a beautiful interpretation by Rabbenu Saadia Gaon. The Talmud teaches: "Recite texts before Me on Rosh Hashanah concerning Kingship, Remembrance, and the Shofar. Kingship so that you may coronate Me king over you. Remembrances so that your remembrance may rise favorably before Me. And through what? Through the shofar." (B.T. Rosh Hashanah 16a)

Now how does the shofar, which we initially explained expresses the tragic sigh-sob of a frail human being in an imperfect, incomplete world which often appears to be a vale of tears, become the means by which we coronate G d as king?

The answer is that the t'ruah broken staccato sound is not the only sound that emerges from the ram horn's opening. Indeed, the predominant sound is the t'kiyah, which is a straight, uninterrupted and exultant blast - and it is this t'kiyah of affirmation, as opposed to wailing cry of t'ruah, that is central to Rosh Hashanah. Indeed, we are required to sound two t'kiyot blasts for every single t'ruah blast! And of the different sounds the shofar makes, the length of the broken sound must be less than that of the straight sound! It is fascinating that the blessing which we make immediately prior to the sounding of the shofar is: "Blessed art Thou, our G d King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us to understand (lishmoa) the sound of the shofar." What do we now understand? Rosh Hashanah is indeed the Jewish New Year, anniversary of the birth of humanity, the creation of the world. From that perspective, Rosh Hashanah is also the "Day of the t'ruah," the day of the sigh-sob, because indeed we find ourselves in a world of darkness as well as light, of chaos as well as order, of evil as well as goodness, a world in which the face of the Almighty is often hidden behind clouds of tragedy and iniquity. However, the Almighty has also created human beings in His image, and has given us the gift of Torah by which we have the possibility and the power to perfect the imperfect world, to bring light into the places of darkness, to perfect the world in the kingship of the Divine and to make the hidden G d manifest once again throughout the universe. This is the majestic and exultant t'kiyah sound by which we - humans but a little lower than G d and crowned with honor and glory - have the mandate to coronate the Almighty; but we can only accomplish that exalted goal by realizing our potential and - through return to G d, Torah and Israel - perfecting ourselves and the world!

This is what makes Rosh Hashanah a joyous festival in the final analysis. Rosh Hashanah is the first of the ten days of Return, and so on Rosh Hashanah we have the power - and the challenge - to recreate the world. "Today the world is being born."

And as the individual glimpses on Rosh Hashanah and sees the potential in the new-born world, he glimpses as well the enormous potential in himself to help recreate that world. On Rosh Hashanah, perhaps more than any other festival, our partnership with G d is made manifest as we rise to coronate Him!

Consider for a moment the ram's horn we are commanded to blow on Rosh Hashanah, be it the short staccato gasp of a t'ruah or the extended, lengthy, far more majestic blast of the t'kiyah. The strength of the ram is embodied in its horn, the part of the animal's anatomy used to attack or defend itself. Herein lies its animal strength. And so on Rosh Hashanah, the baal t'kiya lifts this symbol of pure animalistic power and tames it by eliciting specifically prescribed sounds. In the act of putting the shofar to his lips, the baal t'kiyah demonstrates precisely the relationship between the human being and the world that G d has created. The ram represents G d's reality, sometimes pastoral, sometimes benign, and sometimes deadly. One never knows how the wind blows. But our job is not to leave things alone and let the wind take care of itself. Rather we have to harness that wind, as well as the ram's horn, and give it the shape and sounds that G d has commanded. "We shape sounds, we impose order, we delineate the limits of the ram's brute force. But it's more than simply imposing order: it's really about using the brute strength of the ram in order to create that which G d wants us to create. When we pick up the ram's horn, we become G d's partners. Just as we can perfect and guide the brute strength of the ram, an achievement symbolized by the sounds of the shofar, so too can we perfect and guide the brute strength of other aspects of G d's creation. The shofar teaches us the stark reality of the world in which we find ourselves, but also gives us the symbolic wherewithal to uplift, re-order and recreate the physical reality round-about in order to perfect the world and coronate the king of kings.

Shabbat Shalom