And cast into the depths of the sea all their sins (Micha 7:19; Tashliach Prayer)
Though it may seem simple, Tashlich is in fact a profound ritual, full of meaning and symbolism. Allow me to share an insight from Rabbi Immanuel Bernstein, quoting Rabbi Asher Weiss, which may transform the way you understand its purpose.
The classical source for Tashlich is the verse in Sefer Micha (7:19): “V’tashlich bi’metzulos yam kol chatosam—And You shall cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.”
On this basis, the custom developed for Jews to go to a body of water on the first afternoon of Rosh Hashanah, after Mincha (or before, depending on custom), and symbolically cast away their sins. But there’s more beneath the surface.
The Rama, in his Sefer Toras Ha’Olah, offers a beautiful idea. When a person stands at the shore of the sea, they are gazing at the primordial state of creation. Before Hashem shaped the land, divided the waters, and brought forth human life, the world was just a formless, watery abyss. It was, in the language of the Torah, “Tohu va’vohu—Astonishingly empty” (Bereishis 1:2).
Standing at the edge of the water, then, becomes a moment of contemplation. Hashem created this world for a purpose, we think to ourselves. He split the sea from the land so that mankind could live on it, fulfill its mission, and sanctify life.
So we walk to the water’s edge to remember why we exist.
On Rosh Hashanah, when we crown Hashem as King, Tashlich becomes a declaration of purpose; a moment to remind ourselves that we are here to build, to grow, to live intentionally.
The Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (129:21) brings several other reasons for Tashlich:
- To recall the Akeidas Yitzchak (Binding of Isaac). The Maharil, citing the Midrash Tanchuma (Parshas Vayeira, 22), explains that the Satan attempted to stop Avraham and Yitzchak from carrying out the Akeidah by turning into a river. However, they forged ahead, even as the water reached their necks. Thus, we go to a river to commemorate their unwavering determination.
- To connect to kingship. Rivers symbolize continuity, power and longevity, and serve as the location where kings would be anointed in Jewish tradition (Horayos 12a). Just as a king’s reign flows forward, so too do we pray for Hashem’s enduring kingship.
- To emulate fish. Fish are free from the evil eye (Berachos 20a), as they always remain hidden and humble. Neither do they have eyelids; their eyes are always open. So too, we pray that Hashem’s compassionate gaze never closes upon us.
Now comes the central insight. Rabbi Asher Weiss asks a striking question.
If the Akeidah is already referenced so many times on Rosh Hashanah—through the blowing of the Shofar, in the Torah reading of the second day, in Zichronos, and in numerous tefillos—why do we need yet another allusion through Tashlich?
The answer is brilliant.
Tashlich does not commemorate the Akeidah itself. It commemorates what almost prevented it from happening.
As the aforementioned Midrash tells us, on their way to Har HaMoriah, the Satan turned himself into a river, and Avraham and Yitzchak nearly drowned. Had they turned back, no one would have blamed them. But they didn’t. They kept walking. They fought through the water up to their necks, pushing forward with unshakable resolve. And when Avraham cried out to Hashem, the waters parted.
That moment, that struggle before the Akeidah, is what Tashlich is about.
All of us, throughout Rosh Hashanah, reflect on who we want to be. We have dreams to become better spouses, parents, children, and friends; to learn more Torah; to deepen our connection with Hashem; to fix our flaws and nurture our strengths; and to rise to something greater than what we’ve been.
But that’s just stage one.
As soon as we set out on that path, the Satan—external and internal—throws rivers in our way. He distracts us, he tempts us, and he discourages us. Tashlich is our way of saying: “I know the barriers are coming. But like Avraham, I’m ready to wade through the waters, up to my neck if I have to. I won’t turn back.”
When you walk to Tashlich this year, don’t just throw your sins into the water. Stand by the river, and remember the ocean before creation, before the world had purpose. Remember Hashem’s love in giving it shape, meaning, and mission. And then remember Avraham walking through the water, and ask yourself: what rivers am I willing to walk through to fulfill my purpose?
Let Tashlich not just be symbolic. Let it be a moment of resolve and a moment when we say: “I’m not just casting away my sins. I’m casting away my excuses.”
