“Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Rethink. There’s no such place as away!” I was lucky enough to learn this chant from the remarkable instructors of Teva, an ecological learning experience for Jewish children. It seems like a simple and direct truth appropriate for a child; when we throw something “away,” it doesn’t go far. Carelessly discarded plastics, metals, toxins, and prescription medications can remain in our landfills, soil, water supply, and even bodies, for years. Yet this week many of us will participate in Tashlich, the ritual “throwing away” of those characteristics and misdeeds we do not want to bring into the new year. Since Judaism often conflates the spiritual and the physical, this led me to wonder: when is it o.k. to throw things away?
If you’re like me, it may be your first instinct to berate yourself for every plastic bag, paper plate, and Styrofoam cup that passed through your transgressing little hands this year. You’re ready to swear that next year will be entirely different, already knowing it will probably be pretty much the same. Instead, stop and entertain the possibility that it might be legitimate, even beneficial, to toss things out now and then. Everyone will come up with different examples (perhaps social, economic, or personal), or even none at all, but we might all find that what we have really discarded is our automatic sense of guilt. Too often the environmental movement works by doom-and-gloom, frightening and accusing people into action. We rely on that knee-jerk, extreme response to a guilty conscience to propel us into good works. However, the changes we make based on these feelings are often temporary, lapsing as the sense of urgency fades into the haze of our daily routines. Similarly, the behaviors we try to hard to “throw away” at Tashlich are usually back by December.
Apparently, it’s not that it’s wrong to throw things away: it’s impossible. Both our physical and intangible undesirables stick with us for a good long time. Rather than waste our energy trying to distance ourselves from those times in the past year when we’ve violated our principles, rather than struggling fruitlessly to throw them away, let’s try the environmentalist’s approach. Let’s compost them. It works for physical waste, so why not the spiritual “trash” as well? By choosing to understand and accept our moments of weakness and the practical demands of limited time and money, we can nourish our confidence and conviction. Action rooted in deep self-knowledge, instead of the usual ephemeral guilt, will grow stronger all throughout the coming year. We can’t throw our mistakes away, so we’d better find a good way to “reduce, reuse, recycle, and rethink” them. It’s a simple child’s truth- and yet it is one of the most difficult and mature realizations we can embrace.