A Covenant worth its salt

Maharat Rori Picker Neiss is executive director of the Jewish Community Relations Council. 

BY MAHARAT RORI PICKER NEISS

In the Middle Ages, salt was so expensive it was sometimes referred to as white gold.

Perhaps, then, it is not so surprising that as the Book of Leviticus opens to describe for us the sacrifices that the Israelites are to bring to God now that the Tabernacle has been established, we learn that the offerings are to be brought together with salt. We might imagine that, much like our own cooking, salt was used to enhance the taste of the meat, facilitating a deeper enjoyment when it was consumed. We might also assume that the salt could help serve as somewhat of a preservative at a time when refrigeration was not possible.

Yet, even with that understanding, the emphasis on salt seems to be remarkably more than what is necessary. In this week’s Torah portion, God decrees to Moses:

“You shall season your every offering of meal with salt; you shall not omit from your meal offering the salt of your covenant with God; with all your offerings you must offer salt” (Leviticus 2:13).

Why is it necessary to mention salt three times? What is the significance of telling us to season the meal offering with salt and then not to omit the salt? And what is the reference to the “salt of your covenant with God”?

Shlomo Ephraim ben Aaron Luntschitz (1550-1619) served as the Rabbi of Prague from 1604-19. Also known as the Kli Yakar for his well-known Torah commentary by that name, he taught that salt was necessary on sacrifices in order to enthrone the Holy One over all the contradictions that appear in the world. 

It might drive a human to a state of total confusion to imagine that from one, two opposites can emerge. With salt, we have an entity that has in its nature one thing and its opposite because it has within it the power of fire and to burn, yet it is extracted from water. The Sages of the Jewish mystical tradition commented that this is like the attribute of justice and the attribute of mercy that reside within the same Divine.

Moses ben Nahman (1194-1270), commonly known as Nachmanides, a leading medieval Jewish scholar, Sephardic rabbi, philosopher, physician, kabbalist and biblical commentator in Catalonia, takes the idea even further. He notes that salt comes from water and that it is from the strength of the sun upon that water that salt is extracted. The nature of water is that it soaks into the earth and causes the earth to bring forth and bud, but after it becomes salt, it destroys every place and burns it. 

Similarly, salt seasons all foods and helps to preserve them but destroys them when they are oversaturated with it. Thus, Nachmanides wrote, the covenant is the salt of the world and, by virtue of it, the world exists or may be destroyed.

The sacrifices we are commanded to bring are not about that which God does for us but about that which we do for God. Just as God has the power to create and to destroy, so too is that power within all of humanity. And it is not merely that we have tools for creation and tools for destruction but, in fact, the very same tools of creation are also the tools of destruction. The same actions we might take to help someone, when used at an inappropriate time, in an inappropriate form or in an inappropriate amount, could cause immeasurable harm. By that same measure, that which we dismiss as being destructive can, in the correct context, be healing and life-giving.

We are reminded of this fact not only each year as we come upon this Torah portion, but every week as we add salt to our challah at the Shabbat table. In the absence of a Temple, our home has become the center of our Jewish lives, our table the replacement of our altar, our salt the reminder of the offerings once brought. 

As we sprinkle the salt and taste the delicious bread, let us remember that these small granules that dance on our taste buds are bursting with contradictions.

So, too, are we.

Our task is not to eliminate those contradictions, but to embrace them, to hold them, to navigate them. Indeed, it is only through those contradictions that our world continues to spin. 

Maharat Rori Picker Neiss is executive director of the Jewish Community Relations Council of St. Louis and a member of the St. Louis Rabbinical Association.