My daughter was too young last year to have any real sense of what she was hearing during the shofar blasts on Rosh Hashanah. But this year, approaching her second birthday, I tried to prepare her for the holiday’s aural experience. For a week leading up to the big day, we talked about the significance of the shofar and mimicked the three types of sounds she would hear in shul. On the way to synagogue for the first day of Rosh Hashanah, we reviewed the lessons of the previous week. She seemed to have it down.
As the ba’al tekiah took his place before the Ark and began to lead the congregation through the introductory prayers and blessings, I told her the big moment had finally arrived. “We have to be very, very quiet now,” I whispered, “so that we can hear the shofar.” The congregation grew silent as the first blast echoed through the sanctuary.
Then, before the shofar blower could launch into his next note, my daughter piped up for everyone to hear.
“What that noise?” she asked.
Ten days later, my wife and I packed up our daughter and her six-month-old brother and headed to shul for Yom Kippur services. There were toys and a cheerful babysitter in the basement playroom, but my daughter insisted on coming upstairs to the sanctuary. “OK,” I said, “so long as you sit nicely – and quietly – next to me.”
That didn’t last long. Soon, she was wriggling away and wandering around amid the worshippers. Eventually, she took a seat on an empty bench in the women’s section, where she munched on nuts and raisins and made conversation with some of the female congregants. She refused to budge – it was as though she knew she’d found a space where I couldn’t easily retrieve her and quiet her down. Eventually, my wife had to escort her back downstairs.
Just a few days after that, my daughter and I stood together in our home as I tried to explain the lulav and etrog to her. “We’re going to hold them in our hands now and make a brachah,” I said. “And then we’ll shake them in front of us, to the right side, behind our bodies, to the left, up and down.”
She wrapped her fingers around the two oddities, and I cupped my hands around hers to make sure she didn’t drop them. I recited the blessings, and told her it was now time for the shaking. She responded by immediately trying to take a bite out of the etrog.
These are my memories of the holiday season just passed, and, to be honest, it was the most I’ve enjoyed the holidays in a long time. My daughter’s antics injected a dose of levity into those heavy days. I needed that.
In years past, the busy holiday season would inevitably put me in an anxious mood, obsessively reviewing and critiquing the year that was. There was still some of that this year, too, but the cloud lifted quickly. When there’s so much to look forward to, I guess it’s hard to get too worked up about the past. — YONI
