Do you remember the story about how you can use the shofar to tell the time? Once a man stood near an open window and belted out a loud and long tekiah gedolah. His neighbor yelled back, "Hey, it's 3 in the morning!"

Actually, the shofar does serve as a time instrument, if you pay attention to the machzor. In the moving words of Unetaneh Tokef, as we prepare to receive our annual judgement, we recite the words, uvashofar gadol yitaka, "and the great shofar will be sounded". I never noticed until recently that this phrase, uvashofar gadol yitaka, comes from the book of the Prophet Isaiah 27:13:

"And it shall come to pass in that day, that the great shofar shall be blown, and those who were lost in the land of Assyria, and the outcasts in the land of Egypt, they shall come and worship the Lord in the holy mount at Jerusalem."

You might recognize these words as well as the melody. The day being described is no ordinary day. It is not the shofar blast of Rosh Hashanah, but rather that of the ingathering of exiles at the end of days. And according to our machzor, that day is today.

And later during the Cantor's chanting of Musaf, we follow the Shofar blast with the words, hayom harat olam, "today is the birth of the world".

So which is it today--the end of days or the birth of the world? Which time period does the shofar call to mind? Perhaps both. On Rosh Hashanah, we identify with both creation and the next world, or on a more personal note, with the beginning and end of our own lives.

As a tangent, the shofar has another connection to the end of life. The shofar's use is the result of expelling breath, the reciprocal action to God's creation of the human being, when he blew breath into Adam's nostrils.

So there you have it. The shofar marks the beginning and end of the world, the beginning and end of one's life. And it's all happening right now, today, on Rosh Hashanah.

But how can a single day, 24 hours, really symbolize the beginning and end of the world? Truly how much difference can one day really make?

Lyz Glick understands the power of a single day. Her husband Jeremy's flight from Newark to San Francisco, on September 10, 2001, was cancelled. Jeremy could have taken the next flight but it would get him to San Francisco at 2:00 a.m., so he chose to wait until morning. How much difference can one day make? Jeremy was on board flight 93 on September 11. Because of fewer than 24 hours difference, he lost his life. But had Jeremy Glick not been on board, he would not have been a hero, and perhaps more harm would have been done by the terrorist highjackers.

Some of us have had days that seemed like the world was coming to an end. Yesterday was fine, no problem, and then BAM, out of nowhere, a life changing accident, a medical emergency.

This past April 15, famous for other reasons, was a day that began like all others. Less than two days after Pesach had ended. My Dad had a pain in his leg. He happened to be on his way to a doctor appointment. The doctor's office happened to be adjacent to a hospital. Within a day he was having emergency surgery, and giving us all a good scare.

He and we were lucky, this time. Yes, he and Mom missed coming to Gabriel's Bar Mitzvah Shabbat two weeks later. But he is fine, and we are grateful. And we learned again that every day can bring a surprise, possibly a life altering surprise.

And we know what it's like to feel like we are at the beginning of time. When a single day of our lives gives us not a scare, but a sign of hope, of a new dawning, of a glimmer of light, a new lease on life, a second chance.

Yesterday we pondered the significance of 350 years. Today I want you to think about the meaning of one day. This day, and every day. Each new day possibly our final one, and therefore teaching us to not put off to tomorrow what needs to be done now, and each day like a new beginning, teaching us to be hopeful for the future, and to see the world as never before.

I love the movie, Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray. How can you not love Bill Murray? In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays Phil Connors, a cynical weatherman from a big city, who goes to Punxatawny, Pennsylvania to report on the groundhog, coincidentally also named Phil. When Phil wakes up on February 3, he discovers, much to his horror, that it is February 2 all over again. This happens repeatedly--he just keeps reliving February 2.

What's brilliant in this movie is the progression of reactions Phil Connors has to his dilemma, and how he and his reactions change over time. At first he is scared, then angry, even more cynical than before.

After a while, Phil begins to use his prior knowledge of the day's events to his own advantage. For example, one day he rudely interviews a beautiful lady about her likes and dislikes. The next day, which is the same day over again, he is able to win the heart of the lady, merely by pretending to possess the qualities she desires in a man. After another while, Phil feels the futility in never getting to see tomorrow. He kills himself, over and over again, and nonetheless keeps waking up in bed on February 2. For a while he figures he must be divine, for what's happening to him can't happen to a human being.

The turning point is when Phil actually starts to accept that he is human, and he needs to be the best human he can be. He starts to use his knowledge to help others, rather than just satisfy himself. He begins to notice the strangers that he keeps running into over and over again. He helps people, he saves lives, where he would previously not pay any attention, nor even care. Phil genuinely begins to enjoy this side of himself, and uses each opportunity to make this same day better and better.

Yes, I know, it's a fantasy. No one really gets to live a day over again. It's gone, and no one can turn back the clock of time. But there's still a message in this movie which we can relate to. We do get second chances sometimes. We can change. We can become better people. We can pay more attention to the strangers. We can make better use of the time allotted to us to make improvements in ourselves and in our communities.

And like Phil Connors, we can learn to start changing right now, today, lest we wait too long and lose the opportunity.

A man was crying at his wife's graveside, and was heard saying over and over again, "I loved her, I loved her," and then he added, "and once I almost told her."

In the Pirke Avot, the great text of Jewish wisdom, Rabbi Eliezer teaches us to do Teshuvah one day before we die. His students question this illogical statement, "But Rabbi, who knows when it's one day before death?" To which the Rabbi answers, "You're right, therefore do Teshuvah everyday, lest it be your last."

One thing is for certain, no matter how many years we are granted, and may they be many, none of us will live forever.

A fellow once had an audience with God, and he said, "Dear Lord, I've always wondered, in Your eyes how much is a million years." God responded, "In My eyes, a million years is like one second." The man then asked God, "And in Your eyes, how much is a million dollars?" God responded, "In My eyes, a million dollars is like a penny." So the man asked, "O Lord, in that case, do You think You could lend me a penny?" And God replied, "Sure, in a second." We don't have unlimited time. Unlike God, we have a beginning and an end, and what's in between is what we have to make the most of. Linda Ellis reflects on this view of life in her poem, The Dash:

The Dash
by Linda Ellis © 1999

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning...to the end.
He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth...
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars...the house...the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard...
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile...
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy’s being read
With your life’s actions to rehash...
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?