Last week, on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, my own daughter, on leave from the army, went to visit a friend. She was still wearing her IDF uniform when she began ascending the steps of the apartment building. A door opened on the floor above, and a pale woman poked her head out to see who was coming up the stairs. Immediately upon spotting the unfamiliar uniformed soldier, a howl escaped from her, mistakenly fearing that my daughter was coming to impart devastating news of a fallen loved one on the front lines.
The shofar is the sound of a civilized world disturbed.
But the promise of the shofar is more.
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