Mishneh Torah, Shofar, Sukkah and Lulav 3-5

Hook

Have you ever sat in a synagogue on Rosh Hashanah, listened to the shofar blasts, and wondered, "Why are there so many different sounds? Why do we start with a long blast, then switch to staccato sobbing sounds, then back to a long blast again?" It can feel like a secret code that everyone else seems to understand while you’re just trying to keep track.

The beauty of the Jewish tradition is that it isn’t a test—it’s a conversation. The reason we have these complex, layered sequences of sounds isn't just to be difficult or traditional; it’s because our ancestors were so deeply committed to getting it right that they preserved every possible interpretation of what those sounds should be. Today, we are going to look at why we blow the shofar the way we do, and how those ancient, slightly mysterious sounds were designed to help us feel the weight and the hope of a brand-new year. You don’t need a degree in theology to understand this; you just need to be willing to listen to the "sobs" and "sighs" of the human experience. By the end of this, you’ll know exactly what you’re hearing, and maybe even find a piece of yourself in those ancient, wordless cries.

Context

• Who/When/Where: This text comes from the Mishneh Torah, the masterwork of Maimonides (known as the Rambam), written in the 12th century. He was a physician and scholar who lived in Egypt and wanted to organize all of Jewish law into one clear, accessible guide for everyone, not just experts.
• The Mitzvah: A mitzvah is a commandment or a sacred duty. In this case, the mitzvah is to hear the sound of the shofar—a hollowed-out ram's horn—on the holiday of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.
• Teru’ah Defined: The Torah commands us to sound a teru’ah. Because the ancient rabbis weren't 100% sure if this meant a "sigh," a "sob," or a combination of both, they decided to play it safe and include all of them. A teru’ah is a series of short, staccato, sobbing-like blasts on the horn.
• The Source: You can find the original text here: https://www.sefaria.org/Mishneh_Torah%2C_Shofar%2C_Sukkah_and_Lulav_3-5.

Text Snapshot

"How many shofar blasts is a person required to hear on Rosh Hashanah? Nine... The Torah mentions the word teru’ah [sounding the shofar] three times in association with Rosh Hashanah... Over the passage of the years and throughout the many exiles, doubt has been raised concerning the teru’ah which the Torah mentions, to the extent that we do not know what it is: Does it resemble the wailing with which the women cry... or the sighs which a person who is distressed about a major matter will release repeatedly? Therefore, we fulfill all [these possibilities]."

Close Reading

Insight 1: The Beauty of Sacred Uncertainty

Maimonides gives us a gift by being incredibly honest about what we don't know. When he writes that "doubt has been raised" over the centuries regarding the exact sound of a teru’ah, he isn't admitting failure. He is highlighting a core Jewish value: when we aren't sure how to best honor a commandment, we cover all our bases. Instead of choosing one interpretation and discarding the others, the tradition chose to weave them all together.

Think about how we navigate life. We often have mixed emotions—we feel regret for mistakes (the "sob"), anxiety about the future (the "sigh"), and a desire for stability (the "long blast"). By sounding the shofar in a way that includes all these variations—the teki'ah (long), the shevarim (sighs), and the teru'ah (sobs)—we are essentially saying that it is okay to be complex. We are acknowledging that the human condition is not just one thing. We are capable of being sad, hopeful, and determined all in the same breath. The "uncertainty" of the rabbis became a profound tool for emotional expression.

Insight 2: The Mitzvah is in the Hearing, Not the Blowing

One of the most important takeaways from this text is that the commandment is to hear the shofar, not necessarily to blow it. This is a subtle but powerful distinction. It shifts the focus from performance to presence. You don't have to be a skilled musician or a master of the ram's horn to participate in the holiness of the day. You simply have to be present and receptive.

This teaches us about how we engage with wisdom in general. Sometimes, we get caught up in wanting to be the ones "doing" the talking or the teaching. But Judaism often prioritizes the act of listening—Shema (Listen!) is the first word of our most famous prayer. By focusing on the hearing, the tradition invites everyone into the circle. Whether you are in the front row of a grand synagogue or listening to a recording on your phone, the act of "hearing" the call of the new year is the mitzvah. It’s an inclusive, democratic approach to spirituality. You don't need to perform; you just need to show up and let the sound in.

Insight 3: The Power of Community and Structure

Even though the shofar is a personal, visceral experience, Maimonides emphasizes the communal aspect. He explains that the congregation hears the blasts together with the Amidah (the standing prayer). There is something incredibly grounding about being in a room with others, all waiting for the same sound.

The structure of these blasts—the 30, the 100, the repetition—acts as a container. It holds us. When we feel overwhelmed by the weight of the year passed or the uncertainty of the year ahead, we have this ancient, rhythmic structure to lean on. Maimonides reminds us that we are "one mitzvah." We aren't just a collection of individuals doing our own thing; we are a community tethered to a shared tradition. Even if you are sitting alone, knowing that people all over the world are hearing the same sounds, in the same order, creates a sense of belonging that transcends time and space.

Apply It

This week, practice the "Pause and Breathe" method for 60 seconds each day.

1. Close your eyes and take one long, slow, steady breath (like a teki'ah).
2. Take three short, soft, "sighing" exhales (like the shevarim).
3. Take a final series of quick, staccato, rhythmic breaths (like the teru'ah).
4. End with one final long, steady breath. The goal is to connect the physical act of your own breath to the structure of the shofar, reminding yourself that you are both the instrument and the listener.

Chevruta Mini

1. If you had to describe your year in sound, would it be a long, steady note, a series of sighs, or a fast-paced sob? Why?
2. Maimonides says we blow all these different sounds because we aren't sure which one the Torah wants. How does it feel to know that our "uncertainty" leads to a more inclusive, complete experience?

Takeaway

Remember this: The shofar reminds us that we don't have to be perfect or have all the answers; we just have to show up, listen, and honor the full range of our human emotions.