We Jews make a ritual of casting off our sins, hoping (expecting?) that we won’t have to think about these particular transgressions again. Until they come right back at us.
We take our lead from this week’s parashat, Acharei Mot (Leviticus 16:1-18:30), in which the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) Aaron is instructed to place his hands, once a year, upon the head of a goat, and transfer onto it the collective sins of the Israelites. The goat is then cast out into the wilderness, ostensibly carrying away our people’s most grievous mistakes. This is the origin of the “scapegoat.”
In a similar ritual, Jewish families gather during the High Holy Days for tashlich, transferring their sins onto breadcrumbs and, at water’s edge, casting them away. This popular ritual, which brings almost 500 people together for Congregation Or Ami’s “Tashlich at the Beach” at Paradise Cove in Malibu, combines singing, prayers and picnicking in an oceanside drama that attempts to soothe our souls.
People fond of magic might believe that these rituals actually make our sins disappear. The discerning understand that these dramatic acts do not really absolve us of our responsibility. We still must do the gut-level drudgery — teshuvah, or repentance — to work through our shortcomings, or else the ritual fails to function. In fact, the Mishnah teaches “for sins between people, even Yom Kippur does not atone until they make peace amongst themselves” (Yoma 8:9).
Still, humans tend to gravitate toward scapegoating. It is easier to point to the sins or shortcomings of others than it is to look at our own shortcomings and mistakes.
There is something about humans that makes us collectively want to call out others for their shortcomings. Our biblical heritage is replete with instances of our ancestors taking God to task for God’s actions. In Genesis, Abraham raised uncomfortable questions with God, the Most High, speaking truth to power. Throughout the remainder of the Torah, Moses regularly challenged the Holy One. God allowed it and blessed them both.
Yet even these venerable leaders may not have done their own spiritual work. Abraham never quite came to terms with the damage he did to his son Isaac when he almost sacrificed the young boy upon an altar. And Moses never quite took responsibility for his outbursts against the Israelites, most poignantly while striking out in frustration at that rock instead of speaking dispassionately.
Yes, it is infinitely more difficult to tease out and grapple with our own failings. But it is never too late to begin this work.
Six months from now, Jews and Jewish families will gather to face Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Standing within community, we will look deeply into the mirror of our souls, examining how we have missed the mark.
Standing before the Holy One, we cannot shift the burden of our sins onto others. No high priest will intervene and short-circuit our gut-wrenching teshuvah work. No handful of breadcrumbs will magically absolve us of the need to clean up our relationships, to clean up our behaviors, to cleanse our souls.
Then why wait until October?
We just celebrated Passover, our festival of freedom. In the newness of springtime, we collectively journey now toward Shavuot, the festival of Matan Torah (receiving of Torah) and its acceptance of our responsibility to be an am kadosh (holy people). These weeks of Omer counting, 49 days of transformation, provide an opportunity to begin again the work of teshuvah (repentance), to renew our lives.
Central to our journey should be the challenge of facing our own sinful behaviors. Let us ask ourselves: Were we the people that we could have been, that we should have been? Did we strike out at others? Who did we slight? Who did we harm? To whom do we owe apologies?
This is the time that we, the high priests of our own lives, ought to eschew the use of magic or goats or breadcrumbs, and, instead, do the soul-searching, gut-wrenching, difficult work of repairing our relationships, strengthening our families, nurturing justice in our communities and healing our world.
It is not easy to do the work of teshuvah. It is way easier to lay hands on a goat and expect it to clean up our lives. But Acharei Mot means “after the death.” When we do the work of teshuvah, we allow our shortcomings to die, as we are reborn to holiness.
Then, when we arrive at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, we will be pure and prepared inside and out. We have the newfound freedom to journey forth. Let’s begin the work today.
Rabbi Paul Kipnes is spiritual leader of Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas. He and his wife, Michelle November, are authors of “Jewish Spiritual Parenting” (Jewish Lights Publishing, 2015). He blogs at paulkipnes.com and tweets @RabbiKip.
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