A shofar is made from the horn of a ram and is hollowed out and crafted to be blown like a trumpet. It symbolizes Gods majesty and also serves as a call to repentance.Â
During the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, it is blown as a spiritual wake-up call for us to return to being who God wants us to be. On Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, which ended on Monday night, the shofar is blown at the end of the service to break the day-long fast, with the hope that our prayers have been accepted by God and that we are sealed in the Book of Life for another healthy, prosperous year.
The shofar also stands for healing, wholeness, and spiritual redemption.
In my new book, “,” the shofar is used by one of Gods special messengers to bring a miracle recovery to the widely celebrated journalist Nikki Goldstein, in Sydney, Australia. Nikki (57 years old at the time) has had chronic lung disease and an autoimmune disease for many years and has been in and out of the hospital frequently. But in early September 2022, it looks like the end is near.
The CT scan of her chest shows extensive consolidation and scarring, plus a severe acute lung infection. She is put on a ventilator. She is not expected to survive. She says she is giving herself over to God. Her doctor puts her on the emergency lung transplant list. She is put into a coma.
Her husband Rowan (who is not Jewish) and her daughter are with her. All at once, Nikkis daughter looks up and says, “Is that a rabbi?” Nikkis husband, Rowan, approaches him and says, “My wife would love it if you could say some prayers. This is going to be her last day on earth.”
The rabbi stands at her bedside and recites prayers for her health.
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His name, Rowan finds out later, is Rabbi Eli Schlanger, the longtime assistant rabbi at the Chabad synagogue in Bondi Beach. He is portly, with thick spectacles, a bushy beard, and thinning hair.
Rabbi Eli is about to leave when he stops and reaches into his jacket and pulls out something shiny. It is his shofar, and he asks if its okay to blow it over Nikki. Rowan says, “I cannot think of a single thing she would want more.”
The rabbi blows the shofar loudly.
Twenty-four hours after this, Goldsteins lungs start to respond. The “whiteout” is improving on her chest X-ray. They wake her up and bring her out of the coma. The whiteout is retreating very rapidly. A medical miracle has occurred. Goldstein goes on to write a book with Rabbi Schlanger, “Conversations With My Rabbi.”
It is December 14, 2025, a warm summer’s day in Sydney. Near the center of Archer Park, Bondi Beach, in the middle of a celebration (with over 1,000 people attending) for the first night of Hanukkah (the Festival of Lights), right before the menorah lighting, two gunmen open fire in an antisemitic terrorist attack. Rabbi Schlanger sees one of the gunmen pause to reload.
Schlangerâthe father of five, including a two-month-old babyâraises his hands above his head and walks toward the terrorists.
“Please stop!” he yells. “No more! There has to be another way.”
One of the gunmen raises his rifle and fires. Schlanger falls to the ground dead. His wife, Chyale, is grazed by a bullet in her back. Their two-month-old baby takes shrapnel to his leg. They survive.
This year my daughter, a medical student, meets a rabbi who is admitted to the hospital after a very small stroke. He was blowing the shofar when his lips became numb, and he had to stop blowing.Â
“It is a very good thing this happened,” he says to her. “Blowing the shofar caused t
