The cries of the Shofar

Every year, as Elul builds towards Tishrei, we prepare ourselves for the sound that defines the Yamim Noraim. Tekiah. Shevarim. Teruah. Three sounds, each one distinct, carrying its own emotional message. Chazal interpreted these sounds as expressions of crying, the Gemara in Maseches Rosh Hashanah describing the Shevarim as a sighing groan and the Teruah as a broken, staccato sob. Each person connects to them differently, finding their own meaning in the pattern the blasts.

At Chana, this is how we hear them:

The Tekiah is whole. One long, steady blast, unbroken from beginning to end. It is the sound of a couple standing under the chuppah, certain of the future ahead of them, with no reason yet to imagine that anything could go wrong. This is where most marriages begin, in wholeness, in hope, in the simple natural belief that a family will follow in the expected time.

Then comes the Shevarim. Broken. A heart humbled by months or years of disappointment and anguish. This is the pain of infertility, often carried alone, too private and too painful to share even with family or close friends. There is no shiva for a failed cycle, and no way to acknowledge the intangible losses of hopes and expectations.

Then, the Teruah. Sharp. Urgent. An alarm. This is the sound of a couple finally reaching a point where they can no longer carry their challenges alone, the moment they pick up the phone and call Chana. The awakening that says: please help us, we are in pain and we need support.

This is, in essence, the cry Hashem asks of us on Rosh Hashanah itself. Not composed words, or polished tefillah, but a raw sound more primitive than language. On the day the entire world stands in judgement, we are not asked to present ourselves in wholeness. We are asked to bring exactly what is broken and to do everything in our power to change it.

So many Chana couples describe living a kind of double life. On the outside, everything continues as it should, work, Shabbos, simchas, the same composed smile in answer to the same well-meaning questions. Underneath, they are carrying the physical toll of treatment, the injections, the scans, the two-week waits, alongside an abstract kind of grief. The Tekiah continues to sound to the outside world, steady and whole, while underneath it all is Shevarim and Teruah.

Chana is somewhere that facade can finally come down. Our confidential helpline, specialist support workers, and anonymous medical and Halachic support provide a space where couples can relax and let out their personal pain in a safe environment. It is often the first place a person allows themselves to express their true feelings. It is from that honest place, with the right medical guidance, the right Halachic clarity, and steady emotional support, that we are able to help couples find their way forward.

The shofar does not end on Teruah. It ends on Tekiah Gedolah, the long final blast, an expression of wholeness. This is the sound of hope, and of the promise of redemption that Klal Yisrael holds onto every single year, regardless of how the year before it went. It is the sound we hold onto for every Chana couple: that their own Shevarim and Teruah will, in time, resolve into a Tekiah Gedolah of their own.

Im yirtzeh Hashem, may this be the year. And may we, as a community, be the ones who help carry them there.

The Chana Team