Editor’s Note: Rebbetzin Jungreis, a”h, is no longer with us in a physical sense, but her message is eternal and The Jewish Press will continue to present the columns that for more than half a century have inspired countless readers around the world.
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Imagine for a moment receiving an invitation from the White House. The president would like to get to know you and help you make improvements and positive adjustments in your life. The designated day arrives. You arrive at the White House but somehow become sidetracked in conversing with the other guests. When your turn to speak to the president comes, you can’t recall what you wanted to say – your focus is on the other guests and the festive dinner that has been prepared for the occasion.
Think for a moment about this scenario, multiply it a thousand-fold, and you will have a glimmer of the tragedy our modern-day Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have come to represent.
Tragedy? Rebbetzin, I’m sure many of you are thinking, that’s a rather extreme word.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t even begin to convey the lost opportunity of today’s Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We live in a turbulent, menacing world. We are in desperate need of the intervention of our Heavenly Father, the King of kings. But instead of seeking Him out, we consult those who are equally in need and helpless. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur come and go, and the opportunity presented by those awesome days is lost.
Ostensibly, we enter the synagogue to pray. Sadly, however, most of us never experience the wondrous healing balm of prayer. Oh yes, we go through the motions – we open the Machzor, mouth some words, repeat some prayers with the rabbi or cantor, but that’s where it ends. Our words fall flat. They never take wing. We spend time chatting with our fellow congregants and wish everyone a Happy New Year before making our way home for our holiday dinner. And we miss the real magic of Rosh Hashanah.
A man came to see me with a painful problem. Following an acrimonious divorce, his teenage daughter refused to communicate with him.
“Would you speak to her, Rebbetzin?” he pleaded. “I would like to have a relationship with her, and I’ve heard that you are very good with young people.”
I explained that as much as I wanted to help him, I had never met his daughter and I doubted she would take kindly to my calling her about such a personal matter.
“You are my last hope,” he pleaded. “Please give it a try.”
“I’ll give it a shot,” I assured him, “but it will take a miracle for me to succeed. You must pray for G-d’s help.”
“Me, pray?” the man responded incredulously. And for the first time in our conversation, he actually laughed. “Rebbetzin,” he said, shaking his head, “you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not religious. I haven’t been in a synagogue since my bar mitzvah.”
“Has it every occurred to you,” I asked, “that G-d, your Father, would like to have a relationship with you? That He would like you to visit, that He yearns to hear your voice?
For a long moment he was silent. “OK,” he finally said, “you got me – but I don’t know how to pray.”
“Prayer,” I assured him, “is part of the spiritual DNA of every Jew. You need only take your cue from the sounds of the shofar of Rosh Hashanah.”
He looked puzzled.
“We sound the shofar,” I explained, “by blowing our breath, a part of ourselves, into that ancient instrument. Similarly, prayer must emanate from our innermost soul and cannot be just empty words. Then, inspired by the broken sounds of Teruah, we examine our life, confronting it in its naked truth. The crying sound of the shofar is an expression of genuine regret and tears.
“If you follow this formula, you will discover the magic of prayer – prayer that has the power to grant you a new lease on life symbolized by the final blast of the shofar, Tekiah Gedolah, the long, unbroken sound. Try it. It’s a guaranteed formula, going back thousands of years.”
The man accepted my challenge. He prayed as instructed, with a sincere and broken heart, and I was able to prevail upon his daughter to reunite with her father.
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are just around the corner. How will you pray? How will you reunite with your Heavenly Father? Will your visit with Him have meaning, or will it be meaningless empty ritual? Take your cue from the shofar.
Your life, the life of your family, the lives of your people are on the line. How will you pray?
