Ah, the annual shofar blasts. That primal, biblical keening that cuts through time and space, linking us all back to revelation, to Sinai, to the voice of God speaking to Moses, to the Israelites being called to attention, to the gates of Heaven and repentance and the gleaming possibility of another year of life, glorious life.
Or wait, what was that? The gleaming possibility of another year full of mass-produced pre-fab bookshelves with unpronounceable names?
You can thank us later. Shana tova!
