Holy Schlissel?

If it's the first Shabbos after Pesach, you know everyone's looking forward to their challah. You also know that someone, somewhere, is going to be going on about "schlissel challah" and inauthentic minhagim (ritual customs). Schlissel challah, literally key challah, refers to the key-shaped challah bread that many Jews bake on the first Shabbos after Pesach (many, place an actual key inside a normal loaf, instead). Many explanations have been suggested for this custom, including focusing awareness on the gates of Heaven that are believed to remain open during the month after Pesach, as well as a thanks and request for material sustenance (see article).


On Mesora.org, a website that describes itself as "dedicated to spiritual and rabbinic verification of Jewish beliefs and practices," educator Shelomo Alfassa created a minor stir last year with an article suggesting that schlissel challah may be better thought of as a "loaf of idolatry" because of its pagan or Christian origins. This year, Rabbi Yair Hoffman cites a variety of Hassidic sources that discuss schlissel challah, dating back to the mid-18th century.

Whatever the provenance of this minhag, however, we may want to think about the merits of dismissing a practice that has taken on spiritual significance for so many people. In all our zeal for enlightened authenticity in our religious practices, we can't forget the meaning and emotional significance that those practices hold for others, or for ourselves. 

Social scientist James Fowler describes a stage of typical spiritual development in which a person during adolescence connects with stories, practices, and beliefs that symbolize the person's connectedness to his or her community. Rabbi Jay Goldmintz, in an important article in the journal Tradition, applies this to the development of today's (modern) Orthodox teens:

Consider the fact that, according to Fowler, an adolescent at this stage sees symbols as being inseparable from their meaning. Worthy symbols are themselves sacred. They are depths of meaning. “Any strategy of demythologization, therefore, threatens the participation of symbol and symbolized and is taken, consequently, as an assault on the sacred itself.” Much as we may value lomdus, much as we may be motivated to teach our students all kinds of hakiras and fine distinctions, we must also recall that the unexamined nature of belief is such that, for some, it helps maintain kedusha. Conversely, breaking down that belief when a student is not yet ready may have the effect of robbing the symbol of its kedusha and its uniqueness. One might tell some students that the halakha does not require one to stand when the Aron Kodesh is open, but is it the appropriate thing to say to all students? What is true of symbols may be true of concepts as well: the teacher who tells his students that Judaism is opposed to “spirituality” may have precedent to rely upon, but he may be doing more harm than good by assaulting a key part of a student’s religious sensibilities. 

This may be a signature of adolescent spirituality, but for many people, the importance of such symbols continues throughout their adult lives and mature spirituality. Those feelings may not be very scholarly, but they are no less real. 

Critical, intellectual analysis may, for some of us, form the basis of our faith, the flavor of our frumkeit, if you will. But we have to take care that we don't let our own stuff burst the bubbles of others whose faith may be more experiential and emotionally-based than ours. Just because one key can access my soul, that does not mean it will unlock yours, too.