It was one of those
exhausting humdrum days –a quick shower, a quicker davening, breakfast on the
run, and a race to catch the eight o'clock bus to Bnei Brak. After sitting for
nine hours opposite the computer, I somehow managed to drag myself to the bus
stop and wait for the 402 to Jerusalem. The bus was fairly empty, so with two
seats to myself, I slept like a log until we arrived at the entrance to the
city. I remained in a semi-conscious state as the bus slowly snaked its way
through the neighborhoods, until, with a start, I realized that everyone had
left, and it was just me and the driver. I rang the bell for my stop.
That's when I
heard it! A shofar, the throbbing leaves-you-quivering-in-your-shoes sound of a
shofar blowing -- very very, loudly! There was no mistaking
it, this was the real thing. I looked outside, with a sense of awe and
excitement that perhaps, maybe, this was what we have been waiting for and
praying for and hoping for, for so many years. But sadly, there was no angelic
looking man sitting on a white donkey, tooting his horn. We'll have to wait
longer.
I had become somewhat
a pro at judging shofar sounds. I am working on a promotional video that
concludes with a 4 second shofar blowing. In our search for the perfect ending
that pulls at the heart without sounding tinny or perfectly unreal, I devoted a
good chunk of my time to listening to recorded shofar sounds. Now, the sound of
the shofar vibrating through the bus, shook me to my very core. I couldn't help
but wonder if my work had affected my sanity.
But then again, I live
in Israel. I remembered the time I took my early morning walk and saw the
garbage truck driver crowned in his Tefillin, quietly praying as he waited for
the garbage truck men to finish loading the garbage (an interesting twist on
the Berditcher Rebbe's story about the wagon driver in Tefillin)! And then
there was the time that I found a shofar next to the sandbox. I had placed
notices throughout the neighborhood, announcing my find. Much to my surprise,
four people called to see if had found their shofar before the owner finally
appeared. So why should I find the sound of the blowing shofar on a bus
unusual?
Instead of exiting
through the back door, I walked through the now empty bus to the front,
opposite the driver. And there he was, with his long pony tail, torn jeans and,
yes, very conservative blue button-up Egged uniform shirt, blowing away.
Tekiah, teruah, shevarim, the sound reverberated through the stuffy Egged
bus.
"Beautiful,"
I said, trying to hide my surprise
"I blow the
shofar in shul," he explained, "and I practice when the bus is empty,
whenever I'm stuck at a red light!"
"That was a
gorgeous shofar blowing. You put a lot of feeling into it." I didn't
bother explain how I had become a pro at shofar sounds. But it really was, and
I wished that I had taken my recorder with me, because it was the perfect
shofar blowing to end the video.
