This period is important organizationally and financially, too. Most American synagogues fund their operations through annual dues, and many see a boost in membership in advance of the holidays, as worshipers
For rabbis, Rosh Hashana is often “the main sermon of the year,” said Jason Weiner, rabbi at Congregation Knesset Israel, an Orthodox synagogue in Los Angeles. His sermon this year, which he will deliver not in a synagogue but under an open-sided tent in the backyard of a congregant, will focus on uncertainty and interdependence. “We feel so in control of our lives, like we’re so advanced, and yet this microscopic organism halted the entire world,” said Rabbi Weiner, who also serves as director of spiritual care services at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.
In early April, Rabbi Weiner recalled, he received a call about a pregnant woman who had tested positive for Covid-19, along with her husband. She had just found out they would be separated from their baby for 14 days immediately after birth; the news sent her into a panic attack and induced early labor, and Rabbi Weiner could hear her crying out in the background of the call. The sound reminded him of the shofar, the ram’s horn that is a key symbol of Rosh Hashana. Jewish teaching compares the wail of the shofar to a biblical mother’s weeping for her lost child. “It’s a sound of fear and strength,” Rabbi Weiner said. “We’ll get through this.”
Some Jews have felt liberated by the adaptations this year has required. Amadi Lovelace has not attended services at a synagogue for several years, in part because a disability makes it physically difficult, but also because she is always uncertain how she will be received as a Black queer person. But in recent months, she has tuned into shofar blasts and lit candles for Shabbat with a reform congregation in Reno, Nev., followed along with services at a synagogue in Hollywood and gained wisdom from a rabbi in North Carolina who posts short videos on TikTok.
