The cry of the shofar echoed through
the home of Alta and Harry Eisenpress. With each piercing note,
the lights flashed on and off, like the thunder and lightning at
Mount Sinai. "The shofar blasts triggered a reaction from
somewhere," says Alta. "Maybe from heaven," she
adds with a smile.
The Eisenpresses wanted to hear the shofar, even though Harry
Eisenpress was too ill to attend synagogue services. As Alta says,
"What's Rosh Hashanah without hearing the shofar?" Alta
relates how teens from Temple Israel Center in White Plains, New
York, visited the elderly couple and "made it Rosh Hashanah
for us." As one teen blew the shofar, the clap-on/clap-off
electric lamps flashed wildly on and off with every shofar note.
"Sharing the joy of Rosh Hashanah with these young people
certainly cheered us up," says Alta. "They were
strangers when they arrived and friends when they left."
Every year, Michael Sokol and about 15 other students from
Temple Israel Center conduct Rosh Hashanah services and blow the
shofar for congregants like the Eisenpresses who can't leave their
homes or health facilities.
Michael also recruits other volunteers. "I ask my friends,
'Why don't you come with us?'" he says enthusiastically.
"They join me in helping to make it a sweet year for many
other people."
Michael, 15, has been sounding the shofar at a nursing home
since he was 9. He marvels at the shofar's magnetism, how its
primitive voice gathers people who are within hearing range.
As a ba'al tekiah (shofar blower), Michael reminds
himself before each deep breath that the mitzvah on Rosh Hashanah
is not to blow the shofar. Rather, the berakhah(blessing)
that he recites before the shofar service acknowledges the
sanctity of hearing the shofar. It's not a mitzvah for Michael to
sound the shofar when there's no one to listen. Only sharing the
sound with others makes it a mitzvah.
He expects that he will continue to be a ba'al tekiah for
many new years to come. After all, he explains, "It starts my
year out with a mitzvah."