16 | SEPTEMBER 14 • 2023 

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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

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