Becky was second chair in my middle school band class, and I, the musical ad-libber, the Bb instrument natural, was certain that she had no capacity to oust me from first chair in her after school, teacher-moderated, challenge. First chair, after all, had been mine to hold all school year long, and halfway through the spring semester seemed rather late to be challenging me for the top spot of the trumpet section. The spot was mine, and I was sure of that. After ten minutes of this competition, however, I found that my confidence was misplaced. To be more precise: when it came time for me to example my tutta forza, or full power, I will honestly admit that Becky had me beat. Who would have need of a sound that obnoxious anyway, other than a certain subwoofer retrofitted car enthusiast? Well, little did I know that imitating Becky's chair-winning skill of blasting would later come in handy once a year for Yom Teruah. With yom meaning day and teruah meaning blasting, what better instrument to blast than a trumpet? Although a blasting shofar still sounds more authentic to me.
Leviticus 23:24-25 describes the first day of the seventh month as a yom of rest and commands a set apart gathering, a commemorative blasting, and an offering to YHWH made by fire. Numbers 29:1-6 also confirms this day of rest.
The hard to conceptualize, yet commanded, offering made by fire for Yom Teruah had me scratching my head for the first time we celebrated this day. However, even on this first occasion as I scratched through the epidermal layer of my scalp, I was sharply reminded of the beautiful comparison to Yeshua's sacrificial work of salvation. The one young bull, the one ram, and the seven one-year-old spotless lambs all to be offered with flour and oil in decreasing tenth increments were the offerings for Joshua and Eleazar to perform for all of Israel. Equally, Yeshua became our sacrifice of sweet savor, and he, also being high priest, offered the appeasing sacrifice to YHWH, his father, for all people. Hence, when observing Yom Teruah, lighting a fire and trusting in the offering already made becomes the very picture of the gospel, where it's by grace we are saved through faith (Ephesians 2). After the picture of the gospel that I again found peacefully glowing in the campfire three nights ago, the next picture that is emblazoned on my memory from this year is of my good friend Zach, who after the gathering, with bundles of young energy, ran out of the front door yelling with enthusiasm like the life of the party had just arrived—despite that everyone was leaving. Then running around the grassy yard with no decrescendo to be heard in his vocal cords, he cheered louder than I did as one of our gathered friends drove off blasting their shofar out their car window. Oh, the memories! With this year's Yom Teruah now come and gone, I will stow my trumpet in our music room with all the other guitars and drums in hopes of another rowdy time of first-chair quality blasting next year.
Keep Blasting (Like a subwoofer in a retrofitted 1965 Cheville)
JH
Photo by Filippo Andolfatto on Unsplash
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