By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

This Erev Rosh HaShana marks twenty-five years since 9/11. For those of us who lived it, it is a day that will forever be etched in our hearts. The images of the burning towers are hard to forget. It is a moment in time when we will always remember where we were as we heard the news of the planes striking the World Trade Center.

It was a crisp, early autumn day. The sky was a beautiful clear blue. All was right in the world… or so we thought. I had jury duty and was on my way to Court Street in Brooklyn. After settling in, my number, amongst others, was called up to receive instructions. Honestly, like so many others, I was wondering what I could say to get out of it.

Just minutes later, someone came running in. We heard the panic in her voice as she screamed out that the towers were hit. At first, it was hard to grasp. It sounded surreal. How could it be. And then, reality set in. The wailing sirens of firetrucks, police cars and ambulances pierced the walls of the courtroom. One of the potential jurors cried out, “Pray. Pray to your G-d, however He may be. But pray.”

Everyone tried to call their loved ones, myself included, as my husband worked in the Wall Street area. But it was to no avail, as there was no cell service. So many questions, so many worries, and no answers. The court proceedings came to a halt before they even started. All the jurors were dismissed and told to go home. But that was easier said than done. The subways were shut down. Taxis were nowhere to be found, and the few busses that were running had massive crowds pushing to board. Thus began my seemingly endless walk home, some five miles away. Many others were walking as well, but it was an eerie silence, each person alone with their thoughts, their worries, and their prayers. 9/11 was exactly one week before Rosh HaShana. I remember the plumes of smoke still rising into the air as our family went into Manhattan for the annual HINENI Rosh HaShana program. The atmosphere in shul that Rosh HaShana was more somber than at any other time I could remember. The events of the past week weighed heavily on all.

When my husband, who was our baal tefilla, reached the words of U’nesaneh Tokef, one of the most stirring and heartrending prayers of the Days of Awe, you could almost feel the trembling in the room.

“Who will live and who will die; who by water and who by fire…” That was 2001. Fast forward a quarter of a century. We are now in 2026. The words of U’nesaneh Tokef are part of our tefilla, but we tend to think that we will be spared.

Who could have imagined that all these haunting words are today’s news. “Who will live and who will die; who by water and who by fire; who by sword and who by beast; who by famine and who by thirst; who by storm and who by plague; who by strangulation and who by stoning; who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer; who will be impoverished and who will be enriched…” Today, we are living through not one, but all of these happenings. Acts of terrorism, mass shootings, senseless wars, storms, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis and flash flooding, wildfires, hunger and drought, crime and murders, financial upheaval. More than a millennium ago, the navi Amos rang the alarm bells. “Can a shofar be blown in a city and the people not tremble?” (Amos 3:6) It is said that the wail of the shofar is like the plea of a child to his father. “Please, Avi, my Father, HaShem, help. I need You.”

The cry of the shofar penetrates our soul. As the Rambam teaches, “Uru yesheinim mishnaschem, Wake up you sleepers from your slumber.” Both Amos and generations later, Rambam, see the shofar as a spiritual wake-up call. We must listen to the shofar, and allow its piercing cry to be our internal alarm clock. Our “shofar within”. To wake up, open our eyes, and smell the coffee. To look at the world around us, reflect upon our lives, and focus on the lessons we must internalize.

The shofar calls out to us in so many different ways. On a personal level, it awakens in us the slumbering neshama. It reminds us that HaShem gives us the wherewithal to remove a harsh decree through teshuva, tefilla and tzedaka. Additionally, Amos speaks about the shofar calls in our cities. 9/11 was a major shofar call. Our wake-up call to the rise of worldwide terrorism and anti-Semitism. At first, we trembled, but with time, we quieted our fears. We calmed our inner voice. We became complacent and comfortable with our lives. We told ourselves that terrorism only happens in Eretz Yisroel, that in America we are safe.

Even in Israel, those living in Yerushalayim, Tel Aviv, Haifa, and Netanya would say, not by us, only by the border towns. And even those in the southern border towns felt safe. Not by us, after all, we hire Palestinians to work in our kibbutzim. We are friendly. We cross the border and bring in those in need for medical treatment.

And then came October 7. We believed we were safe and secure until something jolted us awake. A deafening shofar call. Wake up. Terrorism is everywhere. In the south of Israel and the north. Even in the main cities. In France and England. In Belgium and Spain. In Australia and South America. In the US and Canada. It is global. HaShem is sending us shofar calls – warnings. We only have to heed the three-word formula written in the machzor.

“U’teshuva, u’tefilla, u’tzedakah, Repentance, prayer and charity, remove the harsh decree.”

Before the baal tokea blows the shofar, he recites a bracha, “lishmoa”, to hear the sound of the shofar. As the Rambam teaches, it is a mitzva to listen to the sounding of the shofar – even for the one who is blowing. Lishmoa, to listen and internalize. To take it one step further and let the cry of the shofar make a difference in our life.

This Rosh HaShana, may the sound of the shofar be the voice of emuna. The hope and belief that we will soon realize the words of the navi Yeshayahu, “Vehaya bayom hahu, and it will be on that day, yitaka b’shofar gadol, that a great shofar will be blown…” (Yeshayahu 27:13). The day we will merit to hear the shofar gadol, the great shofar of Moshiach.

The question isn’t whether the shofar is sounding. The