I recently asked a group of religious school students what their favorite Passover food was. Unsurprisingly, many answered with the usual suspects: matzah ball soup, chocolate-covered matzah, and so on. But a few shouted out a surprising answer: parsley dipped in salt water.
While perhaps an odd choice for a favorite Passover food, salt is indeed a culinary delight and one that receives plenty of attention in our Torah and its commentaries. Besides its place of honor on our seder table, it is a critical element of the offerings we are commanded to make.
In Leviticus 2:13, regarding the offerings brought to G-d, we read: “You shall salt your every offering of grain with salt; you shall not omit from your grain offering the salt of your covenant with G-d; with all your offerings you must offer salt.”
In this single verse, salt is mentioned four times. What could be so important about salt? The sages come up with a variety of options. Rashi tells us that on the second day of creation, G-d intended to separate the upper and lower waters, those of the heavens and the seas. Peeved, perhaps, that they were not receiving the elevated status of the upper waters, the oceans pushed back on this separation, until G-d offered the promise that they would be honored by being offered on the altar as salt and water alike. Chizkuni suggests that while grain and meat will decay, the mineral of salt endures. Tur HaAroch says the salting of the offerings is something done by “ordinary” Israelites, rather than priests, giving them some agency and connection. Ibn Ezra says it’s simply rude to offer unsalted food as offerings: “G-d caused you to enter the covenant and made you swear that you would not offer anything which is unsalted and inedible, for that is an insult.” There’s just no excuse for bland food!
And, as we gather our materials for our Passover seders, I find myself thinking especially about the bowl of salt water, the symbol of our ancestor’s tears.
We may find ourselves inundated with a sea of sadness this year. Even as we celebrate our freedom from Egypt, we may find ourselves captive in a narrow space of hopelessness, feeling unable to escape the bonds of helplessness in the face of violence and despair. Especially as we remember our own ancestors’ journey out of Egypt, and our treatment as immigrants in that land, it feels critical to speak out for those who are now sojourners in our own lands. With ICE continuing to kidnap our immigrant neighbors, too many of whom are dying in imprisonment, we weep with their families and for the complicity of our leaders in these horrific acts of violence and discrimination.
Download T’ruah’s haggadah supplement for immigrant justice.
Our immigrant families are as crucial to our communities as salt is to our offerings. They are the bedrock upon which our society runs, and they are our neighbors, whom we are commanded to love like ourselves. We may feel powerless to fight the fascist system that puts them at such risk, but like the Tur HaAroch’s commentary on salt suggests, there are always things that the “ordinary” people can do. We can push back with our money, boycotting institutions that support ICE, like Target and Signature Aviation. We can call our representatives to demand greater restrictions, reforms, or abolition of ICE. We can mobilize our local labor unions to include common good demands for immigrant protections in their collective bargaining. We can show up for protests, provide services and food for those who feel unsafe leaving their homes, and accompany our immigrant neighbors to court visits.
In salt, we find flavor, the depth of the oceans, and deliciousness… but also tears, sadness, and pain. When we dip our spring vegetables in salt water this year, may we remember the tears of our broad, diverse communities in addition to those of our ancestors. And at the same time, may we be inspired by salt to take upon ourselves the task of protecting the immigrants in our midst. May this be the lasting element of our sacrifices: that we stood up for those in need. Ken y’hi ratzon; may it be so.
Cantor Sierra Fox (she/her) is proud to serve as the cantor at the historic Congregation Mishkan Israel, known for its history of social justice, in Hamden, CT. Prior to her ordination from HUC-JIR, she has worked in cantorial capacities at Temple Emanuel in South Hills, PA, Congregation Beth Yam in Hilton Head, SC, Reform Congregation Keneseth Israel in Elkins Park, PA, and most recently at Park Avenue Synagogue in New York City, NY. In her spare time, she collects minerals, crafts jewelry, and attends local theatre.