מִי אֵל כָּמוֹךָ נֹשֵׂא עָוֹן וְעֹבֵר עַל פֶּשַׁע לִשְׁאֵרִית נַחֲלָתוֹ לֹא הֶחֱזִיק לָעַד אַפּוֹ כִּי חָפֵץ חֶסֶד הוּא יָשׁוּב יְרַחֲמֵנוּ יִכְבֹּשׁ עֲוֹנֹתֵינוּ וְתַשְׁלִיךְ בִּמְצֻלוֹת יָם כָּל חַטֹּאתָם

Who is like You, [HaShem], who forgives iniquity and passes over the transgression of His people? He does not hold on to His anger forever, because He desires the kindness [of forgiving]. He will again have compassion on us, He will cover our transgressions, and He will cast all the sins of His people into the depths of the sea. (Mikha 7:18–19)

On the afternoon of the first day of Rosh HaShana (or on the second day, Sunday, when the first day falls on Shabbat, as it does this year), we perform a ceremony called Tashlikh. People go to a body of water: the sea, a river, or even a pool. There they recite a series of prayers, including the words of the prophet Mikha, chapter 7:18-19: “Who is like You, O God, who forgives sin and overlooks the transgressions of His people [Israel]? [Who is like You, HaShem,] whose anger does not last forever, because You wish to forgive us and [every year] You have compassion on us once again. You overlook our sins [when we repent] and cast all our transgressions into the depths of the sea.”

ABRAHAM ABINU

Tashlikh is a relatively new tradition. It is not mentioned in the Talmud, nor in Maimonides’ Mishne Torah, nor in Rabbi Yosef Caro’s Shulhan Arukh. The first to mention it was the Maharil (1365–1427), Rabbi Yaaqob ben Moshe Levi Moelin, famous for his works recording the customs of the Jews of Ashkenaz in the Middle Ages. According to the Maharil, Tashlikh consists of visiting a river on Rosh HaShana in order to remember the binding of Yitshaq. The Midrash tells that when Abraham Abinu was on his way to Mount Moriah to carry out God’s command, he came upon a river that should not have been there, and when he tried to cross it, the water reached up to his nose… Even though he had the perfect excuse to call off the sacrifice of Yitshaq, which in the end was canceled by Divine order, Abraham crossed the water and went ahead with God’s command. Tashlikh thus reminds us of the binding of Yitshaq, which took place on Rosh HaShana. That is why we mention it in the Tefilot of the day, and ask HaShem to take into account the merit of our patriarch’s act of unconditional obedience and judge us with kindness.

THE MYSTICAL SIDE OF TASHLIKH

Over time, and after the Ari HaQadosh praised this custom, the Tashlikh ceremony was adopted by virtually all Sephardic communities. But the meaning of the ritual gradually shifted, focusing more on repentance than on the memory of the binding of Yitshaq. The masters of Kabbala linked Tashlikh to the verse from the prophet Mikha quoted above, which says that HaShem “will cast all our transgressions into the depths of the sea.” What does this idea mean? That when we do Teshuba, when we sincerely repent of our sins and transgressions, God will erase them completely and “throw them to the bottom of the sea,” a poetic and metaphorical expression for what every penitent dreams of: the total deletion of the record of our transgressions. Notice that the prophet Mikha speaks entirely in the future: He will again have compassion on us, He will subdue our iniquities, He will cast our sins into the sea. Nothing in the verse says that our sins are already gone. And this explains something about the timing of Tashlikh. We do it on Rosh HaShana, the first of the ten days, when we have not yet apologized to anyone, confessed anything, or changed anything. Tashlikh is not the end of Teshuba. It is an opening prayer: before we begin, we ask HaShem that once we have repented, He will throw away whatever we leave behind.

THE OPPOSITION

Some famous rabbis, such as the Vilna Gaon and Rabbi Yehiel Epstein, author of the Arukh HaShulhan, opposed Tashlikh. So did many Yemenite Jews, who follow Maimonides strictly, and the Sephardic Jews of the Spanish-Portuguese communities of Amsterdam and London. Why did they oppose Tashlikh? In some cases, such as the Spanish-Portuguese community, they left out of the traditional liturgy, that is, out of the formal prayers, many of the customs that came from Kabbala. Why? Because after what happened with Shabetay Tsebi, the false Messiah who abused Kabbala and turned it into superstition to lend credibility to his false claims, they decided not to allow deep mystical ideas into the service, so that they would not be misunderstood by the less informed.

I believe that in the case of Tashlikh, those fears are not unfounded! Why? Because many people innocently believe that by doing Tashlikh they are “throwing their sins into the sea,” and are thereby magically absolved of their transgressions. As if Tashlikh were a substitute for Teshuba. This is completely false. It is not what the prophet Mikha says, nor what the Sages who formulated this custom intended. The process of Teshuba, repentance, is very serious, and this mistaken but very popular view of Tashlikh trivializes it.

GENUINE TESHUBA

Teshuba is a transformative process through which we change not only what we do but also who we are. We devote ten days to Teshuba, from the beginning of Rosh HaShana to the end of Yom Kippur. Here, briefly, are the main steps of real Teshuba:

1. When I hear the Shofar, I must wake up from my spiritual slumber and picture myself standing before God, who, as my Creator, is also my Judge (the One who evaluates whether or not it was worth creating me).
2. I must acknowledge before the Supreme Judge that I am responsible for my actions.
3. I must admit my mistakes and recognize the bad decisions I made this past year.
4. I must also identify my bad habits, some of which have already become part of my personality.
5. During the days between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, I must repair and compensate those I have harmed, and apologize and ask forgiveness from those I have offended or hurt.
6. On Yom Kippur, I must confess my wrongdoings, articulating in a low voice, and feeling that I am standing before God, my mistakes, my bad habits, and my addictions.
7. I must ask the Creator to forgive me and give me another chance.
8. And finally, I must make the decision to change and improve, and plan a serious, workable strategy so that the changes are real and lasting, and my resolutions are not just empty words.

The popular idea that Tashlikh replaces Teshuba is scandalous and counterproductive. How can we tolerate the idea of replacing the entire process of drawing close to God, introspection, repentance, and growth with the notion that one can symbolically “throw all one’s sins into the sea”?

CONCLUSION

Tashlikh is a deeply rooted custom, especially in Sephardic communities, and that is why it is ESSENTIAL that teachers and rabbinic leaders explain to their communities that Tashlikh does NOT make our transgressions magically disappear. We recite Tashlikh to remind ourselves that the process of Teshuba is very serious: our transgressions remain recorded in the Divine memory. But if we repent and change, then we ask HaShem, not ourselves, to “cast our sins into the sea,” so that the records disappear “as if the sea had swallowed them.”

A modern comparison may help. When we delete a file on the computer, it does not disappear: it goes to the trash, and from there it can be recovered. Only when we empty the trash is the file permanently out of the system.

Teshuba works the same way. We do the first part: recognizing the mistake, regretting it, confessing it, deciding to change. That is sending the sin to the trash. But as long as the file is there, it still exists. Emptying the trash of our transgressions is not in our hands. Only HaShem can do that.

And that is exactly what we ask of Him in Tashlikh, before the ten days of Teshuba begin: that after we have done our part, and we have sent our sins to the trash, HaShem will empty it. That they will be gone from the system for good.

וּבַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשְּׁבִיעִ֜י בְּאֶחָ֣ד לַחֹ֗דֶשׁ מִֽקְרָא־קֹ֙דֶשׁ֙ יִהְיֶ֣ה לָכֶ֔ם כל־מְלֶ֥אכֶת עֲבֹדָ֖ה לֹ֣א תַעֲשׂ֑וּ י֥וֹם תְּרוּעָ֖ה יִהְיֶ֥ה לָכֶֽם

“In the seventh month, on the first of the month, you shall have a sacred assembly. You shall do no work. It shall be for you Yom Teru’a, a day of the sound of the Teru’a.” (Bamidbar 29:1)

Hearing the Shofar is the central and most characteristic mitsva of Rosh HaShana. In the Bible, shofar refers to a horn used as an instrument to produce a sound. The Torah also mentions another wind instrument, the chatsotserot, trumpets made of metal.

The question for today is this. Many animals have horns, and many of those horns can be used to produce sound. Which one do we need for the mitsva of Shofar on Rosh HaShana? Will any animal horn that makes the right sound do, or does it have to come from a specific animal?

The ram’s horn

For centuries the characteristic Shofar of Rosh HaShana has been the ram’s horn, qeren hakebasim.

Our Sages debated this almost 2,000 years ago. The Mishna examines which horns qualify for this mitsva, and the halakha excludes, among others, the horn of a cow or a bull (qeren shel para). The Gemara (Rosh HaShana 26a) gives several explanations. One of the best known is the principle אין קטיגור נעשה סניגור, en kategor na’ase sanegor, “the prosecutor cannot become the defense attorney.” The bull inevitably evokes the sin of the Golden Calf, and we do not want to bring up that memory precisely when we are seeking HaShem’s favor.

With the ram it is the reverse. Its horn calls up one of the most positive memories we can invoke: the ‘Aqedat Itschaq, the binding of Itschaq Abinu.

After our patriarch Abraham passed the hardest test of his life and showed he was willing to sacrifice what he loved most in order to do HaShem’s will, he lifted his eyes and saw a ram whose horns were caught in a thicket. Abraham took that ram and offered it in place of his son Itschaq (Bereshit 22:13).

Our Sages tied this episode directly to the Shofar. The Gemara says (Rosh HaShana 16a): why do we blow a ram’s horn on Rosh HaShana? So that HaShem will remember for our sake the ‘Aqedat Itschaq ben Abraham, and count it as though we ourselves were prepared to make such a sacrifice.

After the ‘Aqeda, Abraham received an extraordinary blessing: “I will bless you and multiply your descendants like the stars of the sky and like the sand of the sea… and because you listened to My voice, all the nations of the earth will be blessed through your descendants” (Bereshit 22:17-18).

The ram’s horn, then, does not only produce the sound of the Shofar. It also brings to our memory, and so to speak before HaShem, the merit of Abraham Abinu and the ‘Aqedat Itschaq. It is hard to imagine a more fitting memory for Rosh HaShana, the day our actions and our merits are weighed.

The popular “Yemenite Shofar”

A different kind of Shofar has become very popular in our day: the kudu horn, from a large African antelope, commonly called the “Yemenite Shofar.” It is impressive to look at. It can be three or four times longer than a ram’s horn, has a distinctive twist, and produces a deep, powerful sound.

Now that we understand why the ram’s horn matters, a practical question follows. Can we use a kudu Shofar, or one from another animal, on Rosh HaShana? Or must we use a ram’s horn and nothing else?

For Selichot and during the month of Elul, those who blow the Shofar may use a kudu horn without the same difficulty, since there we are not fulfilling the biblical mitsva of hearing the Shofar of Rosh HaShana.

On Rosh HaShana itself, the answer depends on an important difference between the halakhic authorities.

Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh

Maimonides is strict. He opens the laws of Shofar this way:

שׁוֹפָר שֶׁתּוֹקְעִין בּוֹ… הוּא קֶרֶן הַכְּבָשִׂים הַכָּפוּף, וְכָל הַשּׁוֹפָרוֹת פְּסוּלִין חוּץ מִקֶּרֶן הַכֶּבֶשׂ

“The Shofar we blow is the curved horn of a ram, and all other shofarot are invalid except the ram’s horn” (Mishne Torah, Hilkhot Shofar 1:1).

For Maimonides, the ram’s horn is not simply the preferred option. It is the Shofar required to fulfill the mitsva.

The Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chayim 586:1) is less restrictive. It rules that ideally, lekhatechila, the mitsva should be fulfilled with a curved ram’s horn. But bedi’abad, if none is available, other shofarot that meet the remaining halakhic conditions may be used. Cow and bull horns remain excluded, along with other horns whose structure disqualifies them.

In short: according to Maimonides, on Rosh HaShana we must use a ram’s horn specifically. According to the Shulchan Arukh, the ram’s horn is the first and best option, but if it is not available, another halakhically valid Shofar will do.

So the preference for the ram is not a matter of taste or mere custom. When we hear that horn on Rosh HaShana we are not hearing only a sound. We are also calling up one of the most extraordinary moments of our history, the ‘Aqedat Itschaq, Abraham Abinu’s surrender and the merit of our patriarchs, on the very day we most need that merit to be remembered by God.

HOW IS A SHOFAR MADE?

The most important mitsva of Rosh HaShana is hearing the Shofar. A Shofar is an animal horn that has been modified into a wind instrument. To prepare one, the inner core is removed from the horn sheath, and then a mouthpiece is opened and shaped at the narrow end.

This video, in Hebrew, shows the whole production process:

TUTORIAL: HOW DO YOU BLOW A SHOFAR?

So how do you actually get a sound out of it?

Do not put the mouthpiece inside your mouth, between your lips, as though you were inflating a balloon. If you simply blow air into the Shofar that way, you generally will not get the right sound.

The Shofar rests against closed lips, to one side of the mouth (the right side if possible) or in the center. Once the mouthpiece is against the lips, blow while keeping the lips pressed firmly together and making them vibrate, as if you were repeatedly pronouncing the letter “P.” This is basically the same technique used to play a trumpet.

This video shows it clearly:

Do not puff out your cheeks or take in an exaggerated amount of air. Breathe as normally as possible. The hard part is finding the exact position and angle of the mouthpiece on your lips so that air does not escape out the sides. That takes some practice.

The basic steps:

1. Close and press the lips together.
2. Make the lips vibrate with a sound like the letter “P.”
3. Rest the mouthpiece of the Shofar on the lips.
4. Move the Shofar slightly and adjust its position until you find the point where it produces a clean, steady sound.

THE VOICES OF THE SHOFAR (QOLOT)

Every Shofar has its own “voice,” the way every person has a particular voice. Still, a given Shofar produces basically one musical note. On Rosh HaShana that note is articulated in three different ways, which our Sages call qolot, “voices.”

The first voice is the teqi’a. A long, continuous, unbroken sound.

The second is shebarim. Three shorter, broken sounds. To produce them, you interrupt the stream of air into the Shofar several times.

The third is the teru’a, a series of very short, consecutive sounds. Traditionally about nine of them. A common way to do it is to make quick little interruptions with the tongue while blowing.

In this video, especially between seconds 6 and 9, you can clearly hear one of the most common ways of producing the teru’a:

There are other traditions for the teru’a. In some communities, instead of separating each small sound with taps of the tongue, the player rapidly changes air pressure or lip position, creating a kind of wavering sound that is less clearly divided.

This form of teru’a is characteristic of many Yemenite Jews, among other communities, and is also found in some Syrian traditions.

You can hear it in this video:

THE 100 SOUNDS

The basic combination of Shofar sounds on Rosh HaShana is:

• Teqi’a / Shebarim-Teru’a / Teqi’a: 4 sounds.
• Teqi’a / Shebarim / Teqi’a: 3 sounds.
• Teqi’a / Teru’a / Teqi’a: 3 sounds.

Ten sounds in all.

The series is repeated several times over Rosh HaShana: before Musaf, during the Tefila of Musaf, during the repetition of Musaf, and again at the end. That is how we traditionally reach 100 voices of the Shofar, מאה קולות, meah qolot, on Rosh HaShana. This year only on Sunday, the second day of Rosh HaShana.

So behind every sound of the Shofar there is much more than technique. There is a precise tradition about how to produce its different “voices,” how to combine them, and above all how to hear them, in order to fulfill the central mitsva of Rosh HaShana.

אתם נצבים היום כולכם לפני ה’ אלוקיכם

DAY OF JUDGEMENT

Rosh haShana, the beginning of the Jewish New Year, is just a few days away. Starting a new year is naturally a cause for celebration and joy. But not everything is celebrations and festivities when it comes to the Jewish New Year. For the Jewish people, Rosh haShana is also a very serious time. To the point that the Sages spoke more, much more, of the serious aspects of Rosh haShana than of the celebratory aspects. The rabbis of the Mishnah (200 CE) explained that Rosh haShana is nothing less than the day of judgment (יום הדין). What is the trial about? Examining our own lives, if we are going the good way or the bad way. And who judges us? Ourselves, in the presence of God!

This idea, “being in the presence of God,” is alluded to in the first pasuq of this week’s Parasha, which somewhat anticipates what will happen next week on Rosh haShana.

Let’s see.

OBJECTIVE SELF-JUDGEMENT

The judicial process begins on the day of Rosh HaShana. When we enter the Synagogue in the morning, we should feel that we are entering the court of Law. The first challenge, and the most important one, is to identify the Judge who is present but is not easily “seen” . Why is it so important to discover the judge? Because self-judgment only makes sense if we evaluate ourselves objectively. And only when we are able to visualize that we are in front of God we might achieve objectivity. Why? Because He knows us perfectly. We cannot deceive Him, as one could fool a human judge. But “His Presence” forces us to be objective and prevents us from fooling ourselves. If we feel His Presence, our hearts will open completely before Him.

LIFE AND DEATH

Our Tefilot, prayers help us to open our eyes and discover the Judge. In the prayers of Rosh haShana we repeat over and over the keyword: “Melekh” (King, Sovereign) or Malkenu “(our King). For Jews, the King is also the legislator, the final authority and the Supreme Judge. Among other attributes, the King could condemn one of his subjects to capital punishment or suspend his execution. And this is the key idea of ​​Rosh haShana. Understanding that as a Judge, God can sentence us to lose our life during the next year, ח”ו. And on the contrary, if somehow our “destiny” ח”ו is capital punishment, HaShem can commute our sentence.

SHOFAR

The most special moment of Rosh haShana is when we hear the Shofar. Hearing the Shofar is like hearing the gavel, announcing that the heavenly court is in session. In ancient Israel, when a new King was crowned, the Shofar was blown to officially declare his new kingship. In the same way, when we listen to the Shofar, we declare that we recognize God as our King / Judge. And if we DO NOT take this idea lightly, we will surely feel paralyzed, in shock or with goose bumps (or shaking or crying), out of fear that the Judge will not consider that we deserve another year of life. Or we might feel ashamed since the Judge examining us knows us better than ourselves. If this happens, if we “tremble” when we hear the Shofar, it means that the Shofar is working well. And that we are correctly interpreting what its voice wants to tell us.

WAKING UP

While the Shofar sounds, we DO NOT have to admit guilt, confess, repent, or even ask for forgiveness. And I think it is unnecessary to explain that when one hears the Shofar, one should not “ask” God for any requests …. All of that is very important, but it should NOT be done when one hears the Shofar. As we listen to the Shofar, Maimonides says we should focus our efforts on “awakening”, that is, becoming aware that we are in God’s Tribunal, and we should make every effort to become aware of Who is presiding over the Court.

Imagine you are a scientist, and you have an exceptional opportunity: a wealthy investor trusts your abilities and has decided to invest one million dollars per year in you, believing that you will find a cure for a deadly disease. But the contract he offers you is not unlimited: it renews annually. Each new year, you must go to his office and present a report of your accomplishments. He will decide whether to extend your contract for another year or cancel it. In that annual meeting, you must excel. Your job—your future—is at stake. The investor is on your side. He won’t demand that you have achieved the final result yet. He understands that this type of work takes time and dedication. But to continue funding you, he will want to be sure that you haven’t wasted his money or time and that you are doing everything possible to make progress and reach your goal. It is crucial that when you have your annual meeting with the investor, you are completely honest with him, especially about what didn’t go well in the past year. Even though admitting your failures may be uncomfortable, the investor wants to hear you talk about them. He has a lot of experience and knows that there is no better way to prevent you from repeating those mistakes in the future than by verbalizing your errors and admitting them in front of him. If you cannot admit your mistakes or verbalize your failures, you may likely repeat those mistakes and waste another valuable year. In that case, you would become a “high-risk investment.” If that happens, the investor may consider withdrawing his funding… Therefore, it is essential to be honest about your mistakes to secure his support and renew your contract for another year.

We are just a few hours away from Rosh HaShanah, the day that commemorates the creation of humanity. Our sages explained that on this day, the anniversary of the creation of man, the Creator examines each human being. One by one. And decides whether we deserve to be “inscribed in the book of life,” meaning whether He will grant us another year of life. This is the fundamental idea of Rosh HaShanah. The court is in session when we hear the Shofar. Our first mission is to acknowledge the Judge (or King, which in ancient Israel was the same entity) accept His authority over us, and realize that our life depends entirely on Him. When we hear the Shofar, we should not ask for our lives or needs. It is a moment of awe and great solemnity. As Maimonides explains, the Shofar should “awaken us” from our lethargy and remind us that at this moment, it is God who is asking something of us: that we take responsibility for what we have done in the past and will do in the future. When the Shofar sounds, it is not the time to ask for forgiveness. The time to ask for forgiveness is during the seven days following Rosh HaShanah, especially on Yom Kippur, which is why it is known as “the day of atonement.” On that day, we will present our strongest arguments to appeal any negative verdict that may have been issued on Rosh HaShanah and convince the Investor/Creator that we are a profitable investment. And that if we weren’t last year, we will be in the coming year.

Rosh haShana is Yom haDin, the day of judgment. We explain that on this important day we must perceive the Synagogue as a court of Justice. Aware that when we hear the Shofar the Court goes into session and we recognize HaShem as our King and Supreme Judge. The Almighty examines the records of our behavior during the past year, and he must decide whether or not we deserve a new opportunity.
What remains for us to explain is what should we exactly do while listening to the Shofar and are judged by God?

Asking God for forgiveness?

In the Teshuba process, which formally lasts 10 days, everything has its time. Once Rosh HaShanah is over, we begin an intense period of repentance, reparation, and apologizing to our peers and to God. This period ends on Yom Kippur, “The Day of Forgiveness”.

But on Rosh Hashana, a request for forgiveness would be premature. That day I must concentrate on judging myself before God. Try to see myself NOT as I normally see myself, but as God sees me.

While listening to the Shofar, I have to look in the mirror and admit my mistakes in my heart (מהרהר בתשובה). This first step, essential for the entire Teshuba process, is called hakarat haChet, “admission of my mistakes”. At that moment I take responsibility for my actions and do not escape responsibility. This self-diagnosis is too serious to be taken lightly and is a prerequisite, a condition sine-qua-non for what will come after Rosh Hashanah: confession, repentance, apologizing, resolving to change, etc.

I am going to illustrate what we should do on Rosh haShana while listening to the Shofar.
One of the most important values ​​in Jewish life is chesed, generosity. Let’s take this value as an example of how I should judge myself in front of HaShem. First I must think about what I did right and what I did wrong in this area: Have I dedicated enough of my money, my time, my effort, and my thoughts to helping other people? Was I there when others needed me? When people ask for help, did I ignore them? Perhaps many people who I knew they needed help but did NOT ask for my help, probably out of shame, and I pretended to be distracted? When I found out someone was out of a job, did I do everything I could to help them? When I found out that someone had nowhere to be, did I open the doors of my house for those who needed it? Have I done for others everything that HaShem expected of me? If HaShem was generous with me, and he granted me the means and / or the talents to help, isn’t he expecting me to share what he gave me wth others?

As you can see, thinking about what I’ve done wrong or about what I could have done right, and I did not, is too serious to be overlooked by a simple: “Oh, by the way, God: I’m also sorry about my failures in the area of kindness”.

My mission of Rosh HaShana is to judge myself while God judges me. Trying to see me as He sees me. And the more real my perception of His perception of me is, the less room to deceive myself, the more objective my self-judgment and the more effective my Teshuba will be. And vice versa.