Those of you who have been coming to shul over the last few weeks – whether indoors or outdoors – know that we have been extremely careful about making sure that everyone is wearing their mask during davening. We cannot justify fulfilling the rabbinic law of Tefillah B’Tzubbur [public prayer] at the risk of spreading the Covid virus, and we must therefore minimize risk as much as possible.
But is this a positive or negative image? Should we be lamenting the fact that our prayers must pass through a mask and that our words are being muffled before exiting our hearts and lips? What’s the message for us?
Before I address this question, let’s consider that something else is going to be covered over Rosh Hashanah. The Shofar itself is masked on the second day, when we will be blowing, and the first day, Shabbos, we won’t be blowing at all. This issue was the source of halakhic debate. We know from the Talmud and Shulchan Arukh that one is not permitted to alter the sound of the Shofar in any way. The Shulchan Aruch states that one may not overlay the shofar with gold or other metal if it will change the sound of the Shofar, even if one’s intentions are to beautify it.
When one adds any material to a wind instrument, there’s invariably a change to it’s tone, or timbre. When asked about masking a Shofar and whether or not this would change the sound of the Shofar and invalidate the mitzvah, Rav Herschel Schachter responded that even holding the Shofar in one’s hand slightly alters the Shofar’s timbre from if it were blown while resting on a table. The slight muffling of the sound caused by a mask is not significant enough to invalidate the blowing, and therefore Rav Schachter paskened [ruled] that, out of a concern for the saliva particulates that emit from the mouth of the Shofar, it was completely fine to cover the Shofar with a mask or a piece of light fabric.
And so for 5781 the image that will probably stick most in our minds is listening to a Shofar covered by a surgical mask or fabric. What is the message of that? My friend and colleague, Rabbi Leonard Matanky of Chicago, showed me a story that appears in Yaffa Eliach’s Hasidic Tales from the Holocaust, entitled “A Shofar in a Coffee Cauldron” (p. 42). Here is an excerpt:
Wolf Fischelberg and his twelve year old son were walking among the barracks of the sector for privileged people in Bergen Belsen trying to barter some cigarettes for bread. As they were turning into another row of barracks, a stone was thrown across the barbed wire separating one sector from another. The stone flew over their heads and landed at their feet… After seeing that all was clear, Wolf Fischelberg bent down to pick up the stone. A small gray note was wrapped around it… It was written in Hebrew by a Dutch Jew named Hayyim Borack... After establishing his credentials, Hayyim wrote that he was fortunate to have obtained a shofar and it was in his possession. If the Hasidic Jews from the Polish transports wished to use the shofar for Rosh Hashanah services, Borack could smuggle the shofar in one of the coffee cauldrons of the morning distribution….
A vote was taken among the Polish Jews. Those in favor of the plan to smuggle in the Shofar held a clear majority. They all agreed to give up their morning coffee ration on the first day of Rosh Hashanah….
The smuggling of the shofar was a success. Nobody was caught and the shofar was not damaged. But now a new problem arose. In order to fulfill the mitzvah, the obligation of shofar blowing, all present must clearly hear the voice of the shofar. The risk was great. If the sounds of the shofar reached German ears, all present would pay with their lives.
A heated debate developed among the scholars and rabbis in the barracks as to whether one could properly fulfill the commandment of sounding the shofar if it was muffled and could not be heard distinctly. In the absence of books, all discussants relied on their memory and quoted precedents from various Jewish sources. Based on halakha (Jewish law), a decision was reached to blow the muffled shofar. God would surely accept the muffled sounds of the shofar and the prayers of His sons and daughters just as He had accepted the prayers of Isaac atop the altar of Mount Moriah, thought Wolf Fischelberg as he was about to blow the shofar.
As little Miriam, Wolf’s daughter, listened to the shofar, she hoped that it would bring down the barbed-wire fences of Bergen Belsen just as the blasts of the shofar had in earlier times made the walls of Jericho come tumbling down. Then the service was over. Nothing had changed. The barbed wires remained fixed in their places. Only in the heart did something stir– knowledge and hope. Knowledge that the muffled voice of the shofar had made a dent in the Nazi wall of humiliation and slavery, and hope that someday freedom would bring down the barbed-wire fences of Bergen Belsen and of humanity (Based on an interview by Dina Spira with Wolf Fischelberg, December 20 1976).
It’s a moving story to be sure, but is it an apt analogy? The Shofar needed to be muffled because to practice Judaism in the camps meant certain death. But today, baruch Hashem, we practice Judaism freely without any religious persecution. Our preclusion from blowing an open shofar is because of a faceless, hateless, and not at all anti-Semitic pandemic. It’s not Nazis who don’t want us to blow. It’s almost as if Hashem Himself – via “Mother Nature” – is telling us to stifle the loud sounds of the shofar. What is He telling us?
Of course, no one can know for sure. Please permit me a thought that came to me when considering wind instruments, after a brief discussion with my chaver [friend], Yisroel Idels, one of our ba’alei tekiah [shofar blowers] and a professional trumpet player. For those who enjoy music with trumpets, you may be familiar with a device called a “mute” which is placed at the wide mouth of the trumpet to alter the timbre. Some mutes alter the timbre quite significantly, such as the Harmon or plunger mute, which can give the trumpet that famous “wa-wa” sound, while others only subdue the natural sound and make the trumpet sound a bit quieter and more mellow.
The mute is used especially by jazz and Big Band musicians. In George Gershwin’s masterpiece, An American in Paris, his notes call for a trumpet solo to be played with a “felt crown mute,” which is essentially a piece of felt fabric draped over the mouth of the trumpet to subdue the sound. It’s at the quietest moment of the entire concerto, and it’s almost as if the trumpet is that American strolling through Paris, cautiously, quietly, even romantically. When watching that particular clip of the trumpet player, I felt an eerie connection to our baalei tekiah [shofar blowers] blowing with a cloth cover over the shofar.
Why do musicians use mutes for their wind instruments? One reason, as one expert put it, is that “mutes can often help trombone and trumpet players blend better with their fellow instrumentalists, particularly in a small jazz ensemble setting. A brass player will also often use a mute to help lower the volume of their instrument when playing with a vocalist.”
How would that apply to a shofar? A few months ago, for Parshas Emor, I discussed the mitzvah of Pe’ah, the mitzvah of leaving a corner of one’s field unharvested for the poor to come and collect from that corner. We quoted Rav Mordechai Leiner of Ishbitz, who noted that this kind of tzedaka is different from all other types of charitable giving. All other acts of tzedaka are proactive “giving,” while this is passive act of “withdrawing.” That is, we’re not actually taking anything of ours and giving it to the poor, but rather we are withdrawing ownership from the corner of our fields and allowing the poor to come in and take as they please. We remarked that living in a Covid world has humbled us to realize that as we have been forced to withdraw from the public square, the world continues to go on with or without us.
We also mentioned that the way that Hashem created the physical universe was through an act of withdrawal, known as tzimtzum. One way of dealing with difficult people with whom we clash is to withdraw one’s own sense of self to make room for the other. We learn this from Hashem, who “withdrew” His overpowering essence from our corner of existence to allow all of creation to come into being. Rosh Hashanah commemorates the world’s creation, so it’s certainly apt to consider tzimtzum on this holy day.
Is it possible that our need to withdraw during a pandemic is because we’ve overemphasized our own importance, and that we need to “tone it down” a bit? If so, the muted sound of the shofar might remind us that as powerful as we might think that our service to Hashem is, we need to put it into proper perspective. Even a muted shofar will suffice, and it is not necessary to go over the top in our Yiddishkeit. How we make simchas [celebrations] and how we live in our communities should be done more humbly. We don’t need to scream in order to be heard. If anything, we need to make room for others to emerge and shine.
I think there may be another message, one that I find very encouraging. The shofar is a loud and frightening sound. Rav Yaakov ben Asher, the Baal HaTurim, wrote that the sound of the shofar instills one with fear, which will cause the individual to repent. This is based on a verse from Amos, where the prophet states:
But at the same time, the shofar is supposed to be a sound marking something momentous and celebratory. This is why the Torah prescribes trumpet blasts to be blown for both bad times and good times for the community. In describing the prescribed noisemaking, the Torah states:
The shofar thus has a dual function: It mimics the crying of someone in pain and danger and arouses Divine mercy. But the shofar is also a cry of joy, an acknowledgment of my love for Hashem. It is a love call from a child to a father. Some commentaries observe that the shofar sound of shevarim and teruah mimics the cries of someone in pain, while the tekiah mimics someone shouting for joy. The same dichotomy appears in the prayers: The Malchuyos [Kingship] portion of our prayers on Rosh Hashanah is meant to invoke fear of a Divine judge, while the Zichronos [Remembrance] portion of our prayers is meant to invoke the love that Hashem has for us and that our love is reciprocal. This is why these two sections complement the third section, that of Shofaros.
Yes, fear and love are conflicting emotions, but the heart can contain both when it comes to thoughts of Hashem. Perhaps our subdual of the sound of the shofar is akin to a trumpet player who may wish to subdue and provide a mellower timbre for his music, because he wishes to evoke a softer and gentler tone. Sometimes our fear of Hashem that we experience when hearing the shofar overshadows the call of the shofar to our soul to come close to Hashem. Perhaps we’re already sufficiently imbued with fear this year due to the pandemic. So many people are already frightened and anxious about an uncertain future. We thus need to hear a subdued Shofar so that we can better hear the call of love and closeness to Hashem.
And so my dear friends, when you listen to the masked shofar this year, think of the soft and soothing sound of the shofar, not the loud and frightening sound of the shofar. Think about your blessings and how fortunate you are to be living with all that you currently have. Wordlessly express your hakaras hatov (gratitude) to Hashem and acknowledge that without Hashem in your life, you’d have nothing.
Why will we be davening with masks? For the very same reasons: Let’s remember that it’s quality and not quantity of words that count. Rachmana Leeba Ba’ei – Hashem wants our hearts to be immersed in our prayers. Let’s produce the “קול דממה דקה” - the “small, silent voice” instead of our loud bellowing. We can express our greatest love for Hashem with a whisper instead of a shout.
And to that point of quality, let’s realize that as we still remain partially withdrawn from the public sphere of our holy shul and social circles, this affords us the opportunity to continue our personal growth away from the public eye. Over this Yom Tov season, whether it’s Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, or Sukkos, please prepare plenty of reading and learning materials. Stay away from the news and current events and focus on texts that will help you focus on your life’s purpose, your service to Hashem and to the Jewish people, and to your improving your quality as a human being.
Let’s allow the subdued sounds of this Rosh Hashanah to truly penetrate us and make our lives better and closer to Hashem, so that we can hear the ultimate sound of the great Shofar at the time of Redemption, bb”a.