on rosh hashana, when the shofar is blown, what is the intention a person should have while listening? is there something specific to think about, or is just hearing the sounds the whole mitzva? what does the mitzva of shofar actually consist of, is the main thing the blowing or the hearing? and why are there different kinds of sounds, tekia, shevarim and teruah, where does that come from and what is each one meant to be?
also tashlich, what is it actually? everyone goes to the water and says a few pesukim, but what is a person actually doing there, what is the point of it, and is there something specific to have in mind?
and the aseres yemei teshuva, what is the halacha of these days? do they have any special status like chol hamoed, or are they regular days with just a different focus in davening?
thank you Rabbi, this lays it out beautifully.
There are really three different subjects here: shofar, Tashlich, and Aseret Yemei Teshuvah.
Shofar
The actual mitzvah is to hear the required sounds of the shofar.
The Rambam begins Hilchot Shofar:
מצות עשה של תורה לשמוע תרועת השופר בראש השנה
The Torah mitzvah is to hear the sound of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. The Sefer HaChinuch says the same thing.
So although somebody obviously has to blow the shofar, the mitzvah for the congregation is hearing it. That is why the berachah is:
לשמוע קול שופר
The basic intention is therefore very simple: I am listening to these sounds in order to fulfill the mitzvah of shofar.
You do not need some complicated mystical kavannah for every note.
But if you are already standing there listening, it makes sense to understand what the shofar is supposed to represent.
The Rambam, Hilchot Teshuvah 3:4, famously writes:
אף על פי שתקיעת שופר בראש השנה גזירת הכתוב רמז יש בו כלומר עורו ישנים משנתכם ונרדמים הקיצו מתרדמתכם
The mitzvah is ultimately a gezerat hakatuv, something the Torah commanded us to do. But the Rambam says there is also a message in it:
Wake up.
That does not mean that you should spend Rosh Hashanah searching through the previous year for every forgotten berachah, every curse word, every time you were five minutes late to davening, or every small mistake, and then turn the entire day into anxiety.
That kind of obsessive religious accounting misses the point.
The Rambam continues:
וחפשו במעשיכם וחזרו בתשובה וזכרו בוראכם
and:
הביטו לנפשותיכם והיטיבו דרכיכם ומעלליכם
Look at yourself. Look at the road you are traveling. Look at the kind of life you are building.
The shofar is an alarm clock.
Are you asleep in your own life?
Are you heading somewhere you do not want to go?
Have you fallen into something seriously wrong?
Have you become dishonest in business?
Have you badly hurt somebody and refused to deal with it?
Have you allowed an addiction, destructive relationship, terrible habit, or major aveirah to become normal?
Are you neglecting something fundamental in your life?
If there is something serious, obviously this is a good time to face it.
But the shofar is not screaming because you once forgot Kriyat Shema.
You forgot a berachah? Try to remember next time.
You said something you should not have said? Fine. Improve.
Do not turn Judaism into an OCD religion where every minor imperfection becomes a spiritual emergency.
The shofar is telling you something much broader:
Wake up and look at where your life is going.
The Gemara in Rosh Hashanah 16a also connects the shofar to Malchuyot, Zichronot and Shofarot:
אמרו לפני בראש השנה מלכיות זכרונות ושופרות
Malchuyot is about recognizing Hashem as King. Zichronot is about being remembered for good. And the shofar connects the day to those themes. The Gemara also connects the ram’s horn to Akeidat Yitzchak.
Those are all worthwhile ideas to think about.
But again, the mitzvah itself is hearing the shofar.
Why tekiah, shevarim and teruah?
The Torah calls Rosh Hashanah:
יום תרועה
The question is: what exactly is a teruah?
Chazal understood teruah as a kind of יבבה, a broken crying sound.
But people cry in different ways.
One person sighs with several longer broken sounds.
That is what we call shevarim.
Another person sobs with a series of very short sounds.
That is what we call teruah.
Another person does both, first the longer broken sighs and then the shorter sobbing sound.
The Sefer HaChinuch explains that different communities historically used different forms of this crying sound, and Rabbi Abahu eventually standardized the practice so that everyone would blow all of the possibilities.
That is why we do:
Tekiah, shevarim-teruah, tekiah.
Tekiah, shevarim, tekiah.
Tekiah, teruah, tekiah.
The tekiah is the straight sound.
The shevarim and teruah are the broken sounds.
Later sefarim give many symbolic meanings to each individual sound. Those explanations may be meaningful, but do not confuse them with the basic Halachah.
The Torah commanded a teruah. The question was what kind of broken sound qualifies as teruah, so we do all of the forms.
The Sefer HaChinuch gives a very human explanation for the whole mitzvah. People often need an external sound to wake them up emotionally. In war, people blow trumpets and make noise in order to awaken themselves. The shofar works similarly. Its broken sound gets your attention.
So if you ask me what to think while hearing shofar, I would keep it simple:
I am fulfilling the mitzvah of hearing shofar.
And then:
Wake up. Look at where your life is going. If something important needs to change, change it.
That is enough.
And as far as how many sounds you need to hear: ONE SET OF TEN IS SUFFICIENT
Tashlich
Tashlich is entirely different.
Tashlich is a minhag.
It is not a Torah mitzvah and it is not a takanah from the Gemara.
A person does not have to do it.
The basic idea comes from the last pesukim of Michah:
מי אל כמוך נשא עון ועבר על פשע…
ישוב ירחמנו יכבש עונתינו
ותשליך במצולות ים כל חטאותם
תתן אמת ליעקב חסד לאברהם…
The central image is:
ותשליך במצולות ים כל חטאותם
Hashem should cast our sins into the depths of the sea.
Obviously, you are not literally throwing sins into the water.
Aveirot are not physical objects.
The water is a visual symbol. You stand there and think about leaving something behind, being forgiven, and not carrying destructive things with you indefinitely.
Historically, some people made the symbolism very literal and threw bread crumbs into the water as though the crumbs represented their sins being cast away.
That created an actual Yom Tov problem because now they were feeding the fish.
The Maharil already warned people not to bring food to Tashlich and throw it into the water.
This is a perfect example of what can happen with a minhag.
The symbol becomes more important than the Halachah.
There can be other Yom Tov issues as well, such as unnecessary carrying where there is no eruv.
We often did Tashlich during the week, during Aseret Yemei Teshuvah.
There is no requirement that it be done specifically on Rosh Hashanah itself.
Doing it during the week avoids many of these problems.
The Gra himself did not go to a river or well to say Tashlich. Maaseh Rav 209 records:
לא היה הולך לנהר או לבאר לומר תשליך
So certainly nobody should think that this is an obligatory part of Rosh Hashanah.
There are also different explanations for why the minhag is done near water. The Maharil connects it to the Midrash about Avraham Avinu on the way to the Akeidah, when the Satan appeared as a river in an attempt to stop him. There are later explanations involving fish, fertility, ayin hara and other symbolism.
Fine.
But do not let all of the later material bury the basic idea.
Tashlich is supposed to make you think.
That is also why I do not like turning it into pages and pages of Tehillim and additional prayers.
Sometimes people feel that three pesukim are not enough.
So they add another page.
Then another page.
Then another twenty Tehillim.
And eventually the person stands by the lake for half an hour saying words he does not understand and has completely forgotten why he went there.
More is not automatically better.
Sometimes more destroys the point.
Read the pesukim.
Understand them.
Think.
If afterward you want to go home and say Tehillim, say Tehillim.
But there is no value in turning a meaningful three-pasuk minhag into twenty minutes of verbal noise.
And if a person goes to the water, says words he does not understand, shakes his pockets, watches the fish and goes home, then the ritual itself accomplished essentially nothing.
A minhag has value when it carries meaning.
Without the meaning, you are just performing motions.
Aseret Yemei Teshuvah
The Ten Days of Teshuvah do not have a status like Chol HaMoed.
They are regular weekdays, except of course for Rosh Hashanah, Shabbat and Yom Kippur themselves.
You can work.
You can conduct business.
You can go about your normal life.
There are changes in the davening, such as HaMelech HaKadosh and the other additions, and Chazal regarded these days as an especially appropriate period for teshuvah.
But there is no separate weekday kedushah that prohibits ordinary melachah.
The best way to use these days is not to become neurotic.
Use them as an annual checkpoint.
Where is my life going?
Am I on a road that I actually want to be on?
Did something significant happen this year that I need to address?
Is there a major problem I have been avoiding?
Do I owe somebody a serious apology?
Is there something in my relationships, business, religious life, or personal behavior that really needs correction?
If yes, work on it.
If you committed a serious aveirah, obviously deal with it seriously.
But people need perspective.
Do not manufacture sins because it is Aseret Yemei Teshuvah.
Do not spend ten days hunting through your life for tiny imperfections so that you can feel sufficiently guilty.
That is not healthy, and I do not think that is what teshuvah is supposed to be.
The Rambam’s image of the shofar is probably the best description of the entire season:
עורו ישנים משנתכם
Wake up.
Look at where you are going.
If something important needs correcting, correct it.
And then keep living.