What about Tashlich? A Story of Forgiveness

What about Tashlich?
A Story of Forgiveness. At first glance, the Jewish custom known as Tashlich may seem somewhat odd. On the first day of Rosh Hashana, one walks to a river, stream, pond, or any other body of water (or substitute a bucket), says some prayers, empties their pockets, shakes out Tzitzit, and possibly casts in a bit of bread. A search on the internet will generate a funny listing of different types of bread to offer up for different sins. Of course, you will also discover discussions (often contradictory) about the reasons behind these practices—from the bread to the fish in the pond and whether any of that is necessary.

However, this loss of perceived meaning doesn’t imply that the tradition has no value. As with all such practices, its value equals what we ascribe. In addition to this “assigned worth,” traditions are as rich or poor as our heart’s intention while observing them. The American holiday of Thanksgiving is an excellent example to consider. The only thing that makes the Thanksgiving tradition any different than a large family meal is the value placed on that particular meal—our intentions are the critical dimension of that annual experience.

Tashlich emerged during the “Amoraic Period” (A.D. 200-600). During that era, there was a mental shift away from worship in the Temple in Jerusalem (and its necessity) to alternate means of finding communion with God. Later Rabbinic authorities would expand on these ideas to claim that sacrifices were never essential. These developments are particularly relevant to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur since the themes of substitutionary sacrifice and righteousness run through the heart of those holy days. Consequently, in Jewish thought, God accepts our prayers and repentance by virtue of the patriarchs’ faithful obedience unto death, namely Abraham and Isaac.

The practice of Tashlich, in general, is rooted in an early Midrash (note this scholarly explanation of “midrash”: “Midrash, aside from being a method of interpretation, is also used to designate the literature that arose from such interpretation”). In this Midrash, as Abraham and Isaac made their way to Moriah to offer the sacrifice, Satan approached them to tempt Isaac,

“[Satan] Said to him, ‘You poor wretch son of a poor wretch of a woman, how many fasts did your mother fast so that you could be born, and now this old fool is on his way to sacrifice you.’ [Isaac] replied, ‘Even if it is so, I will not submit to my evil inclination, and I will not transgress the will of my father.’

The Midrash continues to state that once Satan saw that he could dissuade neither Isaac nor Abraham through reasoning, he trapped them in a flash flood at a river they had to cross. So, Abraham and Isaac called out to God by the river, and it dried up so that they could proceed on their way. The Rabbis teach, “It is on account of this that we walk to a river to remember the binding of Isaac, to awaken mercy upon their children as they surrendered themselves and withstood such a great trial.”  Interestingly, with the exclusion of a single exceptionally long variant of the Tashlich service written by Rabbi Yosef Haim of Baghdad, none of the liturgies contain any direct reference to the binding of Isaac.

Throughout the centuries, Christians have understood Isaac to be a “type and shadow” of the Messiah due, in no small part, to the Apostle (and Rabbi) Paul’s writings in Galatians. The Midrash mentioned above has echoes of passages from the New Testament:

“He humbled Himself— becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8), and

“He was saying, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for You! Take this cup from Me! Yet not what I will, but what You will” (Mark 14:36)

As believers, we can do so in the hope that during these days of repentance, we’ll experience a fresh and profound awareness of Yeshua’s “imputed” righteousness and His obedient surrender on our behalf, revealing God’s mercy toward us.

“He made the One who knew no sin to become a sin offering on our behalf, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21). 

Thus, as we prepare our hearts to participate in the tradition known as Tashlich, it is appropriate to remember the sacrificial obedience of Abraham and Isaac. But that story’s power ultimately lies in its prophetic symbolism.

The tradition of casting bread into the water is an invitation to deepen our trust in His mercy by casting our cares on Him (1 Peter 5:7). In these ways, we can not only revitalize this fossilized custom—we can breathe new life into it.

One final thought: from the start of the month of Elul until the conclusion of Yom Kippur, the primary focus of observant Jews is on repentance and worrying that God will receive our prayers. However, our new reality with the Messiah is this,

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness…if anyone does sin, we have an Intercessor with the Father—the righteous Messiah Yeshua. He is the atonement for our sins, and not only for our sins but also for the whole world.” (1 John 1:9; 2:1b-2)