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A Shofar Cry to the World, October 7, 2024, One Year Later

a person with a tallit over their head holds a shofar to their mouth
 
1.
I am a shofar
Blasting my call to the world–
a siren of alarm
wailing, echoing through your lands, across your cities, 
crying for the lost ones of October
who woke to a golden autumn morning that turned black with hate and violence.
I call to those still buried in tunnels who are still breathing
Return 
Return to us while you still have breath
I am a shofar, blaring, moaning, screaming in alarm 
at a world eager to see my people disappear.
We will not disappear
I am the ancient horn, herald cry of my ancient people, 
still besieged and maligned as before, as in every bloody century.
My blast of sound is a wall of resolve–
solid and steadfast, announcing: 
My people will survive
I trumpet long and loud 
Calling to the nations
Calling to my people
 
2.
Jews of Israel:
I am a shofar, calling across the ocean
in love and trembling,
mourning for all the precious lives lost,
dancing youth, kibbutzniks, soldiers, families.
I trumpet for the prisoners of Zion. Come home now!
I wail, desperate for our loved ones to be returned.
I am a shofar screaming at your leaders who have forsaken us.
My call falters, drowned by the noise of rockets and sirens that pierce your skies.
One year gone:
a year of tears, ache, of horror–
a year of outrage, pain, of war.
Would my sound could lay low our enemies–
Would my sound could blow war away, to disappear from your shore.
I am but a shofar
blowing far from your rocky and hardened home
where your footsteps walk our ancient land.
How unalike your lives and mine:
You fight for survival, while I cringe in denial. 
You and your children are our peoples’ army, defending Jewish life 
in a country born in fire 
I cannot fully feel your hurt and desperation.
I can only try.
I call to you from far away.
my brothers and sisters.
 
3.
Muslim people: 
You know who I am.
I have lived among you for centuries 
in Morocco, in Yemen, in Egypt and Persia, Libya and Iraq.
Neighbor, you know me
and I must remind you:
From long before the time of your prophet, may his teachings be a blessing,
I lived proudly in my kingdoms of Israel and Judah, 
land of judges, priests, and prophets
where I sacrificed at my temple in Jerusalem
until Babylon destroyed it.
Where I sacrificed at my second temple in Jerusalem
until Rome destroyed it.
My temple in Jerusalem
on the mount where a beautiful mosque now stands, 
I cry to Adonai, I cry to Allah: may this be a place of peace
a beacon to the world.
I came home to where I have lived for three thousand years.
I came home from your countries 
when you, my neighbors, drove me out.
I came home when no where else would have me–
a tiny Jewish island in a vast Muslim sea
where you are three hundred million, and I am but seven million human souls 
who, perhaps, you wish would disappear.  
We will not disappear.
I mourn for your children. Do you mourn for mine?
We will die together if we cannot live together.
I live in your midst as I have since the dawn of our history.
My shepherd’s horn calls from the rock strewn hills:
Remember. 
We are not strangers, but neighbors
 
4.
American Jews:
I am a shofar, a clarion call: WAKE UP!
Our people are under attack with rockets and words.
What will you do?
The Jewish story is still being written
What will you write on the pages of our saga?
Will you write anything at all?
I am an American Jew– 
free, safe, equal, successful
until I am no long safe, or free, or equal.
I am the lucky Jew, melting away in the melting pot,
dissolving my identity, getting lost in American-ness 
until my child walks through a college campus.
Until I visit Charlottesville or pray in Pittsburgh.
Until I wake to the shofar calling me back to who I am–
calling me back to the grand purpose of my tribe
calling me back to the epochal sweep of my tattered history.
I am an American Jew. 
Do I choose to hear the call?
 
5.
Humanity:
I am a shofar, a blaring ram’s horn
calling to you right now in pain, and alarm, and resolve.
Calling to you, echoing loudly from long ago
calling to every country my wandering people’s footsteps trod 
calling from Eretz Yisrael.
I am Isaac, bound for slaughter. 
Release me from these bonds. Let me live.
Not because I offer humanity its best, as I always have–
humor, healer, trader, storyteller.
The musician at your wedding.
The doctor who heals you.  
The funnyman on your screen.
The visionary in your books.
Stop hunting me, hating me.
Not because I am worthy
but because I am human.
 
I am the Jew. 
I am everywhere, and I am in every time.
I wrote it all down; and I remember it all.
I teach my children century upon century.
I am in Spain and Egypt,
in memory.
I am in Ukraine and Poland
in memory.
I am in Iraq and Lithuania, 
in memory.
I am in Germany, 
in memory.
Now I am in Israel, my ancient and resurrected land
a land I must share.
Yet still the drumbeat to eliminate my nation resounds with terrible deafening malice.
I am a shofar, horn of war, and I will shatter your walls when you assail me
for I will no longer be your victim.
And still, my idea, the Jewish idea, survives, shining brightly, radiant and beautiful:
Be moral
Be grateful
Treat the stranger with kindness
Help the poor 
Pursue justice
Be holy
All is one because God is One
I am the Jew
I am a shofar 
Calling to the world.
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