The Cry of the Prince

'And in the seventh month, on the first day, there shall be a holy convocation for you; you shall not perform any mundane work. It shall be a day of shofar sounding for you.' (Numbers 29:1)

This Sunday Night (through Tuesday Night) marks the beginning of Rosh Hashana - The start of the Jewish new year. The theme of Rosh Hashana, is that of renewal toward a better, more positive year. We ask God for a successful year Materially as well as spiritually, and we in turn ask God to be our King for another year. One of the central practices of the holiday is the sounding of the Shofar - the ram's horn, which serves both of the above themes: Just like when a King used to be coronated, trumpets were sounded, so too on Rosh Hashana when we appoint God as our desired king. What about our return toward a better path, an awakening of teshuva - returning to God and asking forgiveness for the past year and hope for a better one? How does the shofar help accomplish this? I mean, it is pretty amazing that for thousands of years we haven't moved on to a guitar or clarinet or any other musical instrument, but have always blown the shofar; but what does the shofar really accomplish?

The holy Baal Shem Tov gives a beautiful story to illustrate: There once lived a king in a faraway land who had an only son. One day, the king decided his son had grown old enough, and that it was time to send him off into the world to learn for himself life lessons and acquire wisdom. He wished his son well, giving him lots of money and provisions for the journey, and sent him off in a royal carriage. Days later, the prince arrived in an unknown town that attracted him. He decided to settle there and learn as much as he could. But as life often does, the prince began to get accustomed to the ways of the town, drinking at the local taverns and dancing the night away, forgetting his royal background, his father the king and the palace. Years passed. After a while, as we all know, even lots of money can dry up, and the prince began to look like all the other villagers; poor and ragged. After working a few dead-end jobs, the once regal prince was now wearing tattered clothing with barely a penny to his name, feeling down in the dumps. But one night, it hit him! "I'm a prince!" he thought. "What am I doing here in the dumps?! I must return to my father the king!" So off the prince went, this time by foot. After a 2 week journey, the prince found his way into the city, up the hill to the palace gates. "WHAT DO YOU WANT!?" The guards barked at this homeless wayfarer. "The prince sadly realized that not only had he lost all of the appearance of a prince, he had even forgot how to speak his native language properly!" As he was being pushed away, the prince - with no other course of action, cried out with a piercing cry of longing and pain. The king, standing by his palace window, immediately felt his heart melt - It was his son! He ran outside and embraced his son the prince.

Sometimes we mess up, we sin. But that's not who we are; we sin but are not sinners. We are taught that one's Jewish soul can never be tainted. It may be clouded over with some bad "clothing" here and there, but our pure interior is always latent, waiting to be sprung in a moment of spiritual connection. We are those princes. We may have strayed far from the palace of Hashem, from the Torah & Mitzvot, but we can return at any moment. The pure cry of the shofar (besides for reminding God of Abraham's sacrifice of the ram instead of his son, as well as the sounding of the shofar at the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai) reminds God, as well as ourselves, of our inherent inner purity and goodness that is unshakable.

May we use out these upcoming holidays in a spirit of joy and celebration, realizing how good we really are in essence, and where we can also improve for the coming year. {P.S. If you need a place to pray, all are welcome free of charge at Chabad of U.C. - 3813 Governor Dr.}