Re-Discovering Meaning in Age old Rituals

At 60 years old, I discovered Tashlikh.

I was raised as an American Jew. Culturally, historically, traditionally, I consider myself to be Jewish.

The thing is, I am someone who seeks and appreciates rituals that resonate with my soul. And most of the religious ceremonies I have attended over the years, be it Catholic, Buddhist, Jewish, Zoroastrian, Yogic, Shamanic, Wiccan, etc. have left me sometimes intrigued, but ultimately still seeking.

The traditional Judeo-Christian tenet of monotheism is interesting, but I related more to the American Indian philosophy class I took at Cornell, lead by two Native American professors. Walking in the woods, listening to the sounds of nature and experiencing the power of rain, sun, water, smoke and the elements allowed me to connect to an experience beyond my intellect.

Over the years, I have found my own way, lighting candles and sometimes sage (in a respectful and humble way) developing my own New Moon rituals and leading monthly workshops to share in the idea of letting go of what no longer serves in order to make way for manifesting what is needed now.

This past month has been personally challenging. My father died after contracting Covid. I was unable to attend his funeral out of state because my son tested positive for Covid. I quarantined with him in our home. Family tensions were running high. I couldn’t sleep because of ruminating thoughts.

Traditional Judaism praises God, and often it is the Old Testament version of this heavenly being watching over his flocks, with a disapproving eye and even suggestions of penance and punishment. My ideas are different, more universal, more about connection to self, other and the world. I try not to get “caught up” in the words, but when the words are repeated and repeated, it is hard to ignore them.

And so….

Yesterday, my cousin stopped by and mentioned she was heading to the park for Tashlikh. I had heard of this ritual where Jewish people bring breadcrumbs to the water to “cast off” their sins sometime after Rosh Hashana, the celebration of the Jewish New Year. I had never participated. I don’t relate to the idea of sins.

I found myself standing next to the mighty Hudson River at dusk in a circle with people I didn’t know. The rabbi was a woman who played the djembe while three women lead prayers and songs from the 1960’s. The poems and songs recited were simple and included verses like…

“ May I feel the world beyond myself. May I cherish the lives that are part of the flow of life. May I know that I am one drop in a great river.

I release my ways that are harmful and unskillful and humbly ask that I may learn how to change. I release my past to the water that I may be renewed, as river waters are renewed in each moment. May I be guided to ways that move in harmony with the Source of Life.”

We were asked to bring stale bread to toss into the river as a way to physically cast off or throw away that which no longer serves us. I found a half-used bag of croutons from last year’s Thanksgiving stuffing. I found a quiet place next to the water. One by one, I let go of those things that had been weighing me down by throwing a stale crouton into the water…unspoken expectations of others and of myself, anger, hostility toward people whose behavior I have no control over, heaviness, doubt, fear, worry, etc, etc. I allowed myself to take the time to focus on all that I had to give up to the mighty waters of the Hudson, the River known as Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk (“river that flows two ways” or “waters that are never still”) by the Mohican tribe who formerly inhabited both banks of the lower portion of the river.

Watching the reflection of the sun on the water, I felt lighter as I climbed up the riverbank, walking toward the sounds of drums and chanting on a grassy knoll. Walking home with my cousin along the river, I felt that my soul had been cleansed, scrubbed clean. I felt a profound sense of peace.

I realized that while I often ask of myself and my clients to release what no longer serves our greatest good, this is usually followed by thinking of what we would like to manifest now that we have cleared some space. This time, with this age-old ceremony, I allowed myself to feel the freedom of letting go, without having to immediately figure out what to seek next.

I realized that this age old religion my ancestors had created included a ritual that still holds meaning centuries after it was begun. Allowing this re-set, enjoying this feeling of release was liberating.

In 2021 in NYC, this one Jewish woman allowed herself to feel a connection with all those who participate in this ritual throughout time and place, recognizing that meaningful rituals can even be found in those places we thought we knew.

May a sweet and healthy new year be shared among us all.

Shana tova.