I have been leading High Holy Day services for more than twenty five years, and I still get a little nervous before the doors open. Not about the service. About the room. Will it feel like a performance, or will it feel like a family?

This year, I knew the answer about four minutes in.

So many new faces

We welcomed a good number of first timers. People who had not been inside a synagogue in years. People who moved to South Florida last spring and were still figuring out where they belonged. Couples where one partner is Jewish and one is not, wondering if there was a seat for them here. Grandparents who brought grandchildren. Friends who brought friends.

If that was you, I want you to hear this directly: you were not a guest. You were part of what made the room work.

I talked in my welcome message about the science of goosebumps, and about the Hebrew word kadosh. We usually translate kadosh as holy, but that translation loses something. Kadosh means set apart. Lifted out of the ordinary and marked as different. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel called it radical amazement. Astonishment. A really big wow. 

And I told everyone that the chill running down your arms in a moment like that is your body registering kadosh before your mind can catch up. I have started calling it a holy shiver.

Several people told me after services that they did feel something, the music, the ancient words, the connection even with strangers in a holy space together.

I got mine when the Torah came through the room.

The kids carried it

Our little ones carried the mini Torahs. Some of them held those scrolls the way you hold something you have been told is precious, with both arms and total concentration, which is exactly right. 

Our recent B’nai Mitzvah students carried the full size scrolls, and if you have ever lifted one you know they are heavy. That is not an accident. Judaism is heavy on purpose. Somebody has to carry it.

Then our volunteers stood up and read Torah in front of everyone.

That was a holy moment of bringing our tradition to life.

The shofar chorus

And then there was the sound. The room was quieting down to hear the shofar, and then, a dramatic clap of thunder! I didn’t plan that, but it sure worked as a holy moment.

Our shofar chorus blew together this year under the direction of Michael, our veteran shofar expert, who has been at this long enough to know that the shofar is not really an instrument you master. It is an instrument that humbles you and then, if you are patient with it, lets you through.

When those blasts went up together, the whole room went still. Tekiah, shevarim, teruah, tekiah gedolah. The unbroken note, the broken one, the sobbing one, and then the long one that holds until the air runs out. Some people closed their eyes. Some people cried. A few of the little ones covered their ears and grinned.

That was the holy shiver moment for a lot of us. Thank you, Michael, and thank you to every single shofar blower  who surrounded us with that holy sound.

What comes next

Yom Kippur is almost here.

We’ll be together in the Sanctuary for Kol Nidrei and Yom Kippur morning and we’ll close the day together at Beach Havdalah and break fast, under an open sky with our feet in the sand.

Join us for Yom Kippur. Reserve your seat or your livestream link at niboca.org/high-holy-days-tickets.

New here and not sure where to start? Book a Welcome Call with me. It is a real conversation, not a sales pitch, and it is the way most people find their way into this community. Schedule yours here.

Have a child who should be carrying one of those Torahs next year? Ask me about Hebrew School and our B’nai Mitzvah program, in person in South Florida or online from anywhere.

Everything at Neshamah starts with a conversation. We are here whenever you are ready.

Shanah tovah u’metukah. May this be a year of many holy shivers.

With love and blessings,

Rabbi Amy