Will the Ducks Really Eat My Sins?

By Heidi Lumish
Tufts University

From the time I was young, I was intrigued by the Tashlikh service I attended with my family on the first afternoon of Rosh HaShanah. I would stand by the pond, tossing in chunks of freezer-burned whole wheat bread, watching the ducks gobble up my sins with innocent enthusiasm. I felt refreshed and cleansed, as though amidst my apples and honey and our delicious feast, I had also been presented with a blank slate, a chance to begin a year free of arguments with my sisters and the consequent reprimands from my parents. For a few days, or perhaps only a few hours, I would strive to maintain that perfection, that feeling of freedom from sin and regret. Yet, it was not long before I had put the first mark on that blank slate with a petty criticism or a shout of anger, and I felt discouraged.

However, this service, as well as the high holidays, has gained new meaning for me over the years. Humans are not free from sin, and though we may strive for perfection, it often evades us. However, God recognizes our imperfections, and it is for this reason that we can ask for forgiveness, that we are offered this period of atonement with the start of each new year.

Rosh HaShanah marks not only the Jewish New Year and God's creation of Adam and Eve but, according to midrash, also the anniversary of the couple's first sin and the forgiveness of this sin. Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, against God's request, yet they were forgiven. With each New Year, we are reminded by this example that our sins can be pardoned. At the same time, we can learn from this that we must also forgive the sins of others who have wronged us. As Thomas Fuller attests "He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself; for every man has need to be forgiven."

My increased understanding of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, has furthered my appreciation for the need for repentance, in addition to forgiveness, in order for one to be absolved of sin. I recall afternoons on Yom Kippur before I became Bat Mitzvah when the adults would sit quietly reading, or napping, assuming a demeanor that seemed subdued and out of the ordinary. The fast held little meaning for me, as I did not partake in it. Now that I have begun to fast, however, the fast day has assumed a new meaning. In the absence of food and in the presence of prayer, I find the time to reflect on what is valuable in life. It strikes me, with the passing of the high holidays each year, how fast-paced our lifestyles are and how little time we spend appreciating the importance of family and the values we share.

With the sounding of the final blast of the shofar at the conclusion of Yom Kippur, I cannot deny that my first emotion is excitement at the thought of the break-fast meal and, primarily, a glass of water. However, I also feel cleansed, as though through this fast I have had the time to refresh, to let the sins and mishaps of the previous year exit and a new year begin. I am reminded each year that amidst this rapid lifestyle we lead, it is refreshing to reflect upon our sins and to take the time to forgive those who have wronged us.

Heidi is a rising senior at Tufts University, double majoring in biology and community health. She works with the Tufts Hillel Foundation as the cultural VP for B-RIGHT, a Birthright reunion group, and is part of the Writing Fellows Program at Tufts.

[Posted 9/18/09]