Tashlich

Dear Reader,

It’s interesting: I opened this blog for no particular reason, and now I have an overflow of topics I want to write about. I am not sure which came first, the blog or the ideas I’d like to express.

Right now, we are in the midst of the Jewish High Holy Days. This past Saturday was Rosh Hashana, the New Year. I spent part of the day taking in the work of one of my clients, a Jewish theatrical and educational organization called Storahtelling. First there was a short play about the scapegoat, and the re-formation of that ritual into the practice of Tashlich, the shedding.

The word “scapegoat” is one we are all familiar with; many of us have been one on multiple occasions. This is the all too human practice of blaming one individual for all of the immediate problems the group is having. It derives from the ancient practice of designating a scapegoat at the New Year; literally, a goat, upon whom all of the sins, ills and general malaise of the community were theoretically cast. Then, the laden goat was sacrificed, and this killed or took away the many burdens that had been attached to the poor goat by the community, at least for that year.

Of course, as time went on, goats increased in value, and chucking one out for no more than representative reasons made less sense. So, the revised idea was to make bread, or leftover New Year challah, the recipient of the sins/burdens/problems. How, though, to sacrifice this in a way that was still representative of taking away the negatives? Toss it on moving waters; the waters cleanse, they were one of G-d’s first efforts; what would be more appropriate?

So, after the play and narrative about the scapegoat, we went on a walk/march through Hell’s Kitchen in NYC, to the dock of the aircraft carrier Intrepid, which is a floating museum on the Hudson River. En route, some of us were carrying banners; I don’t know how I ended up on that detail, but I was in the thick of it. As one of the very few obvious gentiles in the group, I was worried that I stuck out like a sore thumb, but no one else seemed to notice. We got to the walkways that cross 12th Avenue to the Intrepid dock and marched across, leaving our banners, which proclaimed “Happy Jew New Year,” and “Honk for Peace,” among other slogans, attached to the sides of the walkway, so that at least for a few hours our presence would continue to be felt. There was much honking!

I went over with everyone and took my bread out of my pocket to toss. Prior to this, I had been aware of this ceremony, but had never participated in it. Usually it’s something one sees seemingly very religious Jewish people doing; not a “motley crew” of people, some in costumes (including the aforementioned goats), some with instruments playing klezmer/jazz; certainly not “shiksas” or “goyim.” I tried to focus my hurt and anger of the past few weeks on my little wad of bread, and tossed away.

Fortunately, there were chunks of bread, and leftover bagels all over the place, so I took a few more pieces and tried to toss away each problem and transgression as I thought of it. Again, the sadness of the last few weeks came up, and I tossed again. I did my best to get that out.

I thanked my clients for welcoming me into their group, and they were so lovely to me that I came away thinking they were actually glad I was there. I plan on spending at least part of Yom Kippur with them, and learning more about the background and practice of the Day of Atonement. And yes, I am going to fast.

Thanks for reading,
Catbird