Rabbi Charles E. Savenor serves as the Executive Director of Civic Spirit, a nonpartisan organization that provides training and resources to faith based schools across the United States.
The shofar has a singular magnetism that attracts the rapt attention of the young and old. As this ancient instrument takes center stage on Rosh Hashanah, we may wonder what is the meaning behind these piercing notes?
Some explain that the shofar reminds us of the call to battle during the biblical age, but during the Days of Awe the battlefield is internal. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch of 19th century Germany does not connect the shofar with warfare, but rather God’s presence in our lives. He asserts: “With the sound of the shofar, God once called us together on Sinai, with it, God will once again gather us together.” Just as the shofar once ushered in the Revelation at Sinai, so too will it introduce new and necessary revelations in our hearts and minds about the direction of our lives.
A battle cry, a revelation, or a spiritual alarm clock shaking us from an ethical slumber? Each interpretation in its own way makes a compelling case about how the shofar voices a dramatic plea for introspection.
So deeply associated with Rosh Hashanah, the shofar sets the tone on this holiday of spiritual reflection. Yom Teruah, one of the names of the Jewish new year meaning “the day of blasts”, serves as a vehicle for us to look within and ask who we are today and who do we want to be tomorrow?
These questions apply to not just our personal lives, but also our larger society. Currently in both America and Israel, democracy as a form of government has faced challenges that we might have found unimaginable just a generation ago.
This year, the calendar provides another lens through which we can see these Days of Awe, as Rosh Hashanah falls on Constitution Day, commemorating the signing of the United States Constitution on September 17, 1787, in Philadelphia. While Independence Day has been etched onto the American calendar for some time, this national milestone was not officially recognized by Congress until 2004.
The signing of the Constitution represented a watershed moment in the founding of our country. The Constitution replaced the Articles of Confederation enacted in 1781 and was a second attempt to organize the federal government, clarify its powers, and establish the parameters between the federal government and the states as well as its citizens. “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition,” asserts James Madison in Federalist 51, reflecting the founding generation’s intention to distribute power between the government’s three branches.
The Constitution, as we well know, did not foresee or solve every problem. In particular, slavery’s status was a dark cloud over the new republic. Despite its imperfections, this document has remained in place as the national standard of law and governance for over 235 years.
The way the calendar unfolds this year provides the Jewish community with a unique opportunity to reflect upon the state of our nation as much as our own spiritual state. That Jewish prayer is couched in the plural signifies that this path of growth, healing, and renewal is one we walk together.
While our individual experience is important as Jews and citizens, both Rosh Hashanah and Constitution Day remind us that we are part of something larger than ourselves. And Constitution Day underscores the importance of justice, creating safeguards against the temptations of power, and the blessings of second chances for communities as well as for individuals.
Exploring the meaning of America in our own lives can enhance and elevate the conversation around our holiday tables. Hearing opinions different from our own may open our hearts to new ways of approaching common challenges in our society.
More than a calendrical coincidence, Constitution Day and Rosh Hashanah complement and inform one another. When we hear the shofar blasts on Rosh Hashanah, may we embrace not just the invitation to begin our lives anew, but also the spirit of American democracy inscribed on the Liberty Bell: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof” (Leviticus 25:10).
A commitment to liberty, democracy, and freedom is a legacy we can be proud to pass onto our children. During these divisive times, these values serve as a north star to a stronger future.
Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 
