Reviewing: “Haroset: A Taste of Jewish History” by Susan Weingarten. The Toby Press 2019. English. Hardcover. 192 pages. ISBN-13: 978-1592645169.
Haroset occupies prime real estate on the Passover Seder plate, but what is it actually doing there? We say a blessing over the karpas, matzah and maror, but there is no specific blessing for haroset. Is haroset a mitzvah, or just for show, like the shank bone?
In “Haroset, A Taste of Jewish History,” author Susan Weingarten, an archaeologist and food historian, traces haroset from the first discussions in the Talmud about what haroset represents and what it should include, to recipes prevalent in Jewish communities around the world today. Her interest is in exploring the symbolism of haroset, its historical development and the way it both reflects and defines geographic variations in Jewish culture. (For consistency, I am using the author’s spelling of haroset throughout this review.)
Weingarten’s expertise as an academic is apparent in her research and skill at creating a readable narrative from a variety of texts. She begins with the first written reference to haroset in Mishna Pesachim and a discussion about whether or not it is a religious obligation. She then recounts the different arguments in the Jerusalem Talmud and Babylonian Talmud about what haroset symbolizes. One view says that haroset recalls the bricks that Jews were forced to build as slaves in Egypt and therefore it should have a cement-like texture. There is an opposing argument that it should be soft to recall blood. Weingarten notes it is unclear which blood is being referred to. Blood was used to mark the houses of the Jews in Egypt so they would be passed over. There was also the blood of the first of the Ten Plagues in Egypt when water turned to blood. Over time, this was sometimes resolved by putting haroset on the Seder table in its cement-like form and then thinning it with vinegar or wine. Weingarten writes that this practice is likely the origin of the blood libel that began in the medieval era, the canard accusing Jews of using the blood of Christian children to bake matzah.
The mixture was supposed to be acidic “in memory of tapuah, the apple.” Some sages say haroset uses apples to recall the Jewish women in Egypt who gave birth in the apple orchards. Others say the ingredients in haroset represent fruits depicted in the Song of Songs that is read in shul during Pesach. The sages discuss dipping maror in the haroset but not actually eating it.
Moving to modern times, the author looks at references to haroset from a more secular viewpoint, beginning with the period known as the Enlightenment. From then on, the author writes, Jewish practices were no longer under the sole purview of the rabbis. “While the main stream of textual study and commentary continues, we also find other channels of expression—mystical, messianic but also rationalist.” The author writes that many Jews rejected the rabbinical strictures they didn’t like and instituted their own customs. She makes no explicit value judgment about this; her mission is history, not halacha. But she also talks about the inevitable result of an “out with the old, in the new” mentality: Jewish communities in Europe, America and pre-state Israel rejected the old ways, only to yearn for the past.
One of the most revealing pieces of information came at the end of the narrative section in a brief mention. Weingarten writes that she found an innovation in haroset that is unusual because it tries to be “ultra-authentic.” She “came across” a discussion on the internet by “an American rabbi, Rabbi Howard (Chaim) Jachter,” who uses an etrog in haroset instead of apples. Rabbi Jachter is very familiar to Jewish Link readers. He is a contributor to this publication, the rabbi of Sha’arei Orah, the Sephardic Congregation of Teaneck, a faculty member at the Torah Academy of Bergen County (TABC), dayan of the Bet Din of Elizabeth and a prolific author.
Rabbi Jachter wrote that when the Talmud said haroset must be acidic in memory of the tapuah, the apple, it could not have referred to the apples we have today. Rather, he said that Rav Soloveitchik cites a different text where tapuah was said to be a citron, or etrog, which would be in accordance with the ruling that haroset should be acidic. Weingarten includes a footnote for Rabbi Jachter’s article, “The Mitzvah of Charoset,” with an outdated link, but I got the original from him. In addition to being a more concise discussion about haroset in the Talmud, Rabbi Jachter’s article mentions that based on Rav Soloveitchik’s interpretation, Rav Hershel Schachter, rosh yeshiva at Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, Yeshiva University, uses oranges in his haroset instead of apples. Since I am concerned with halacha, as well as culture and history, I went back to Rabbi Jachter with questions about whether haroset should or should not be made with apples. He said “everyone should make charoset in accordance with their family minhag (custom), notwithstanding Rav Schachter’s insight.”
The last chapter of Weingarten’s book includes interviews with Jews from both Sephardic and Ashkenazic communities throughout the world about how haroset is made in their homes. Countries represented include Israel, Greece, Turkey, Kurdistan, Uzbekistan, Persia, Libya, Morocco, Yemen, Tunisia, Algeria, Turkey, Georgia, Iraq, Syria, Egypt, New Zealand and Germany. Most Ashkenazic Jews use a mixture of apples, nuts, sweet wine and cinnamon, while Sephardic Jews, and those from Arab countries, usually use dates as their main ingredient. Several haroset recipes call for cooking the mixture to a jam-like consistency or shaping into small balls before serving.
Some of the women interviewed gave Weingarten barebones accounts of family recipes, but others shared long-held memories. I would have like to read more reminiscences like this one from a family of Algerian origin: “While eating haroset, it was customary to throw the bitter herbs out of the window. You could tell from the position of the lettuce leaves on the pavement the next morning whether the Jews in the building lived on the first, second or third floor.”
“Haroset, A Taste of Jewish History” is food for thought about this integral yet not-well-defined part of the Pesach Seder. The bonus was getting an introduction to Rabbi Jachter’s analysis of the halacha of haroset. His article is available at: https://koltorah.squarespace.com/halachah/the-mitzva-of-charoset-by-rabbi-howard-jachter.
By Bracha Schwartz
