Tuesday, October 14, 2003
The Final Blast of the Shofar: New Years In a Single Embrace
They built a tent on the bima (or pulpit) out of metal tubing covered with gauze and bright carpets. Inside, there was one chair, four soft old floor pillows, and a sefer torah scroll - a torah that had been redeemed after being captured and desecrated by Nazis during World War II, kept by them as evidence of their triumph over a decadent culture. The torah had been left in the tent lay to wait for someone to join it, to pick it up - so I went in shortly before services started, drew the translucent curtains, lifted it up and held it to my chest, breathing deeply of its ancientness, the tragedies and triumphs it had witnessed, feeling its organic essence crackling headily in my cradling arms. I wrapped it in my arms and closed my eyes, embraced it warmly before opening my eyes again, set it back down to the pillows at my feet and let my fingers linger on the velvet gown it wore. I hungrily absorbed tactile and olfactory and auditory sensation from it - and then I left it for the next seeker to embrace in solitude. Regardless of my opinion of the contents of that scroll, the act of secluding myself and communing with it was powerful beyond any expectation.
And I think that’s all I have to say about Rosh Hashona and Yom Kippur this year.
