16 | SEPTEMBER 14 • 2023
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A
s we enter the High Holidays, a
time of honesty and confession, I
offer my truth to each of you. I do
not put salt on my challah. Ever. Honey —
yes! But salt, no thank you.
The tradition of putting
salt on challah is in
remembrance of the sacrifices
offered in the Temple
in Jerusalem. The
Talmud explains: When the
Temple stood, the sacrifices
brought on the altar would
atone for Israel’s sins. But
now, when there is no Temple standing, our
tables atone for us (Brachot 55a).
Salt is a bitter taste that takes away from
the sweetness of the challah. When people
ask me why I do not dip my challah in salt,
this is my answer: Life has a way of dipping
bitterness into our lives without us doing
a thing, and so when I have the chance
to either add more bitterness or more
sweetness, I choose sweetness every time.
Our liturgy during the High Holidays
is a mix of severities similar to salt and
honey: from the sweetness of the covenant
to the bitterness of forsaking that covenant.
From the sweet relationship between parent
(God) and child (the people of Israel),
to the acknowledgement that at these
moments, we (the children of Israel) stand
before the Ultimate Judge (God).
As we praise God our Father, our King,
our Mother, our Creator, we hold both of
these aspects of our relationship with God
at once. We acknowledge that our behavior
and our choices in the past year place us
somewhere along the continuum of bitter
and sweet, of sin and repentance. We accept
that God as Judge has the right of rebuke,
but also, God as parent will also bring us
close and comfort us at the same time.
The High Holidays can be difficult for
this reason. It is a time to inspect how we
manage human relationships and, also, live
up to our Divine covenant. It is a balancing
act. Life gives us salt, and we supplement
with honey to recalibrate. The holidays
do the same. We must do a cheshbon
nefesh, an accounting of our souls, which
can be upsetting and disappointing and
challenging. But we are also told repeatedly
in our liturgy that God knows us and what
we are; we are but flesh and blood. And
because He knows what we are, our liturgy
sweetens this difficult task by reassuring us
that our God is slow to anger and quick to
forgive.
It is not the death of sinners that God
seeks, but that they should turn from their
ways and live. We can do the soul searching
because we know that until the last day,
God waits for us and welcomes us the
instant we return.
If we need an even clearer roadmap, God
gives us three paths: repentance, prayer and
charity.
On this High Holiday season, I wish
you all health, happiness, peace and joy.
May your lives be filled with more honey
than salt. It’s almost as though God knew
we would need an extra dose of sweetness
at this time of year. Enjoy your apples and
honey! And year-round, if life gives you
too much salt, keep a stash of honey on the
ready, just in case.
Jennifer Kaluzny is a rabbi at Temple Israel.
Rabbi
Jennifer
Kaluzny
More Honey Than Salt
T
his year, I will be writing only
one sermon during the holidays,
to be delivered at the conclusion
of Yom Kippur. This is a relatively easy
task as the message will focus on Yizkor,
remembering those we
love.
Freed from the burden
of writing topical sermons,
I appreciate the plight
that so many other rabbis
will face this year. They
will feel compelled, for
instance, to address
the obvious themes of
antisemitism and Israel. How will your
rabbi strike a balance between a call to
self-defense against antisemitic attacks
and a recognition that the Jewish people
are supported by our neighbors?
In his or her sermon on Israel, how
will your rabbi balance a love of our
ancient homeland with the current
political situation that has led thousands
of Israelis into the street protesting
judicial reform?
Many rabbis will write a draft for a
sermon that will address the current
political climate in America. The wisest
will place that sermon in the trash
recognizing that every word, no matter
how brilliantly crafted, how balanced,
will inevitably be misinterpreted by
those in the pews.
Raging wildfires, unprecedented
heat and raging storms may cause your
rabbi to tackle the issue of climate
change. The wisest will find a way to
weave climate into our Jewish texts,
recognizing that this sermon will
nonetheless be viewed as “political” by
many listeners.
Most clergy, on either side of the
political spectrum, bear fresh scars from
their congregants believing that they
have sided with a candidate or party.
If the task for the rabbi is daunting,
I suggest that the challenge for the
congregant is equally significant.
This year, please remember that your
clergy are spending countless hours
Rabbi
Harold Loss
Consider the Meaning Behind
these Sacred Days
ROSH HASHANAH
continued on page 18