Fighting OBX erosion with blasts from the shofar — a noisy and defiant show of faith

In this ocean-battered town, where houses sometimes slip into the waves, Hilary Graf can see the wrath of Neptune from a front-row seat.

Out her front door, the Outer Banks wash away like chalk on the sidewalk, eroding so fast that utility pipes jut from the sand. Just down the street, the surf pounds directly under tall vacation homes.

But Graf feels no fear from her perch on this magical coastline, and she shows it by blasting a defiant noise at the sea. For the past two years, she has warded off danger with the sound of a shofar and a roaring lion, played loud enough to make evil sea spirits plug their ears.

“It sounds like we’re killing cats,’ “ she said. “We’re just scaring away waves.”

Hilary Graf on the deck of her beach house in Rodanthe, where she plays a shofar and lion’s roar recording to ward off the encroaching waves.
Hilary Graf on the deck of her beach house in Rodanthe, where she plays a shofar and lion’s roar recording to ward off the encroaching waves.

This unorthodox approach seems as practical as any in a town that saw three houses broken apart by crashing surf in 2022, another collapse into the ocean last year, then two more bought and torn down by the federal government before they could suffer the same watery fate.

For many months, homeowners along the narrow strip of barrier island have contemplated expensive relocations, including Raleigh attorney and Player’s Retreat owner Gus Gusler, who told The Washington Post, “This is our last stand.”

Just last week, park rangers warned of septic systems poking through the sand.

But Graf, a grandmother who trades time between Rodanthe and Virginia, feels little such dread.

“Of course, the beach looks terrible,” she said. “But that’ll come back. It’s not a war in Ukraine. Nobody got hurt.”

Shofar and lion via YouTube

Without delving too deeply, the shofar is a curly, hollowed-out horn most often blown during Jewish rituals, especially Rosh Hashanah. But increasingly, the ram’s horn is used by evangelical Christians and sometimes for right-wing political purposes.

In a similar vein, the lion is traditionally associated with the tribe of Judah, a symbol of bravery and strength, but is often interpreted by Christians as a sign of the second coming.

The town of Rodanthe faces aggressive beach erosion that has already taken multiple houses. These few, seen from the pier, sit a few houses down from Hilary Graf’s house, where she wards off the waves with the sound of a shofar and roaring lion.
The town of Rodanthe faces aggressive beach erosion that has already taken multiple houses. These few, seen from the pier, sit a few houses down from Hilary Graf’s house, where she wards off the waves with the sound of a shofar and roaring lion.

For Graf, who described herself as a Christian, loudly playing the two of them combined through a YouTube video is both call for kindness from the ocean and a demonstration of faith her family will come through.

“To me, it’s a sound of victory,” she said. “It’s putting out there that I put my hope and trust in the Lord.”

‘I’m not the crazy neighbor anymore’

Not long ago, Graf heard that Outer Banks pastors around Rodanthe were blowing shofars at the bridges on both ends of their island.

“So I’m not the crazy neighbor anymore,” she said.

At the very least, Graf’s musical defense against beach erosion can draw attention.

My friends and I heard the sound on a fishing trip and thought enough to ask about it on the Rodanthe Pier, thinking someone was holding regular bagpipe practices. Then, hearing from locals that it aimed to frighten off ocean malevolence, we thought to knock on Graf’s door and ask.

I suspect the remedy for Rodanthe’s vanishing coastline will require a more scientific approach, or at least one involving large piles of government cash.

But I like the idea of ocean deities retreating from the sounds of steadfastness on shore, making for the dark and deep water, letting the gentle waves return.

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