If you're in San Francisco between now and Rosh Hashanah, don't be surprised if you spot a 1975 Vespa scooter zipping along with a 3-foot-long shofar sticking out of the rear storage box.
The driver is Maurice Kamins, and he'll probably be on his way to synagogue to practice blowing that shofar — which he made himself.
...
First, the tip of the horn has to be cut off, but where exactly to cut is the question. A horn has a clump of keratin inside its narrow end, kind of like the hard chocolate treat at the base of a Nutty Buddy or Drumstick ice cream cone. The aim is to cut through it, but also to cut high enough on the horn to leave a good-sized mouthpiece.
"The mouthpiece is the biggest problem," Kamins says. "Although the horns are hollow, that ends at a certain point. With a new horn, I have to buy two or three just to make sure I don't mess it up."
If all goes right with the cut, the horn still cannot be blown into, as there is a solid white mass at the small end, kind of like hardened coconut. With the horn still in a vise grip, Kamins drills a small hole through the keratin, and then drills a countersink hole to make for better blowing. He tests it with a quick toot; no tekiah gedola just yet.
"To make a horn that creates a sound, I can do that in a minute and a half," he says. "It takes another eight to 10 hours to get a finished product."
During that time, which can often be spread out over weeks or even months depending upon how many shofars he is working on, Kamins uses a belt sander, then sands the shofar by hand. He'll often stand at the belt sander for hours, a process that he calls "getting the yucky out," but one moment makes it all worthwhile.
"As I'm sanding them, there's a moment when the horn itself will start vibrating with the tone it will give once the horn is blown," he says with reverence.
After the shofar is fully buffed out, Kamins applies a varnish finish.
In the sanding process, about 3⁄8 of an inch will come off the outer part of the horn, although at the base, Kamins takes off only 1⁄8 of an inch, which creates a raised mouthpiece on each of his shofars. "That's kind of my signature," he says.
His shofars are veritable works of art, brilliantly translucent in the light. In fact, several of his shofars can be found on the mantels and coffee tables of friends he has bestowed with one.
But using his shofars as showpieces really doesn't do them justice. They are not meant to be lifeless; they are meant to instill life, to be blown. Majestically.
"The sound ultimately is determined by the length of the horn," he explains. "The longer the horn, the deeper the sound." Still, no two horns — even those from the same species that appear to be the same length and width — make the same sound. Kamins gleefully grabs one after another and blows.
"I'm simply fascinated by the different kinds of sounds," he says.
Kamins' shofars span the globe. Three are in synagogues in Israel, three are in the former Soviet Union and three are in South America. One rests in a library at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles.
How did they get there? Kamins simply gives them away, either to someone visiting from abroad or to someone who's traveling to another part of the world on a Jewish humanitarian mission.
For example, when Anat Hoffman, a founding member of Women of the Wall, was in San Francisco recently, Kamins proudly presented her with a more suitably sized shofar than the small one she was seen toting in the documentary "Praying in Her Own Voice."
Another one of Kamins' shofars is in a congregation in Chile, taken there by Sherith Israel's Steve Olson on a trip with the World Union of Progressive Judaism. Kamins also gave one to Sherith Israel Cantor Rita Glassman to take to a synagogue in Argentina.
I knew that it would but I have read that you can "seal" them to reduce the stink. Would any of you know what would work for that?
