For the past several years, my brother in law and I have been leading the High Holidays services at Denver's National Jewish Hospital. This year, he and I split up -- I led Rosh Hashana services with my friend Jonathan, and he led Yom Kippur services.

For the first time, I blew the Shofar in services. I'd picked up a Shofar before and made some tentative bleating sounds that must have sounded much like the original rams themselves, but that's a far cry from having the whole congregation counting on me to fulfill the mitzvah of hearing the Shofar blown on Rosh Hashana.

The tough part was that I had just had a couple of bouts with the oral surgeon (and he had been winning, believe me) -- I couldn't even practice until just a couple of days before the holidays began.

Fortunately, I did have those couple of days -- and it sounded terrible until the day before Rosh Hashana. That day, in my apartment (to the delight, I'm sure, of my neighbors) I finally got the different sounds right.

All humor aside, blowing the shofar was a profound experience for me. On the first day of Rosh Hashana, I'd say that overall I did a good job, but I didn't get a good breath for my "Tekiah Gedolah" and ran out of steam. "Tomorrow," I promised myself, "I'll get a good, deep breath."

I used to be a choir boy, back in the old days -- singing with the Chicago Children's Choir (be prepared for your computer to sing if you click on that link), so I know a bit about breath control. The next day, when it came time for the Tekiah Gedolah, I got a deep breath and blew the living daylights out of that Shofar. When I finally ran out of air, an appreciative murmur arose from the congregation. It felt great.

After shul, an elderly gentleman came up and went on at length about how much he loved the service, and what a great Tekiah Gedolah I had blown. "With one like that," he said, "they should use you in the military."

It was an honor and an experience I'll never forget.