The Symbolism of Charoset | Passover haggadah by Noraa Kaplan

Search Library

Charoset is the most mysterious of the seder plate’s symbols. It is typically a sweet, dark paste made from some combination of fruits, nuts, spices, and wine or grape juice. Recipes for it vary widely—some are quite elaborate and involve many symbolic ingredients, others are simple and divine (like Iraqi charoset, which primarily consists of halaik, date syrup) but the end result is something fruity, flavorful, and vaguely reminiscent of the mortar or mud our ancestors used to make bricks.

Disputes over the purpose and meaning of charoset date back to the Talmud. Some ascribed its purpose to being an antidote to accidental poisoning from maror, others said it represented the bricks our ancestors were forced to make in Mitzrayim. This interpretation has become almost universally accepted, and there’s no denying that traditional recipes for charoset strive to imitate mortar, mud, and bricks. (Jews from Gibraltar go so far as to use actual crushed up bricks in their charoset recipe.)

But as Rabbi Arthur Waskow explains in his essay, “Haroset, the Seder’s Innermost Secret: Earth & Eros in the Celebration of Pesach,” there is a hidden meaning of charoset, one alluded to by Rabbi Levi in the Talmud (see Pesachim 116a) that often goes unnoticed. The recipe for charoset reflects Shir ha-Shirim, the Song of Songs, a book of the Tanach that Jews traditionally read over Pesach. In some ways, Song of Songs feels out of place in the Bible—it is an explicit erotic love poem devoid of any mention of Hashem. Yet Rabbi Akiva said that it is the most sacred of all the books of the Tanach. Over the years, numerous interpretations have been offered about how the book is really an allegory for Hashem’s relationship with Yisra’el, but at its core, Song of Songs is a book about love, sex, desire, and youthful passion. Many traditional ingredients of charoset are mentioned in Song of Songs:

“Under the apple tree I aroused you…” (Song of Songs 8:5)
“I went down to the walnut garden…” (Song of Songs 6:11)
“Your height, I liken it to a date palm, and your breasts to bunches of dates.” (Song of Songs 7:8)
“Please let your breasts be bunches of grapes…” (Song of Songs 7:9)
“Sustain me with raisin cakes, refresh me with apples, because I’m love-sick.” (Song of Songs 2:5)
“The figs give their fragrance, and at our opening there are all sorts of precious fruits, new and also old, which I have hidden away for you, my beloved.” (Song of Songs 7:14)
“Their cheeks are like a bed of spices...” (Song of Songs 5:13)
“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your beloving is better than wine.” (Song of Songs 1:2)

As Rabbi Waskow writes, “The text of the Song subtly, almost secretly, bears the recipe for ḥaroset, and we might well see the absence of any specific written explanation of charoset as itself a subtle, secret pointer toward the ‘other’ liberation of Pesach.” What is this ‘other’ liberation? He says it is “erotic, Earth-loving freedom.” Perhaps it is freedom from hopelessness, liberation from a passionless life where each day is the same as every other. “Winter is past, and the rains are over and gone,” (Song of Songs 2:11) and the spring of our passion renews.

The radical message of the Song of Songs is that “love is as strong as death, passion is as strong as the grave.” (Song of Songs 8:6) The forces of death are powerful—incarcerated people and survivors of police violence can attest to that, as can the female protagonist of the Song, a Black woman who survives misogynist violence at the hands of the hands of her brothers and ‘men who patrol the wall.’ (“I am Black and beautiful… Don’t stare at me because I am Black, because the sun has gazed upon me. My mother’s sons abused me. They made me the keeper of their vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept.” (Song of Songs 1:5-6) “The men who patrol the city found me—they beat me, they wounded me. The ones who patrol the wall, they stripped my clothes right off of me.” (Song of Songs 5:7)) But the powers of love and radical passion are equally strong.

This does not mean “love conquers all.” We are by no means guaranteed to win, and if love is our only weapon, we will end up getting hurt. But we are capable of great things when love is on our side. “Sparks of love are sparks of fire, of a great fire,” the Song tells us, “Many waters cannot extinguish love, and floods cannot wash it away.” (Song of Songs 8:6-7) Love enables all things, and passion makes everything possible.

haggadah Section: Introduction

Source: Min Ha-Meitzar: An Abolitionist Haggadah from the Narrow Place by Noraa Kaplan