The month of Tishrei and all its “honey” symbolism.
In Apples, Challah, and Honey Cake
Where does the word “honeymoon”come from? Some trace it back to an old belief that eating honey every day during the first month of marriage guarantees a sweet life together. Others view the term more cynically, suggesting the first month is as sweet as honey, but after that… well, you know.
Recently, I stumbled across a Hebrew wordplay connection: the numerical value (gematria) of the Hebrew word for “woman” (isha) equals the word for “honey” (devash). That instantly gave new depth to the concept of a honeymoon: she is the honey, and you are the moon.
Right now, we are fully in our own “honey season.” Everyone knows the Rosh Hashanah custom of dipping apples in honey and wishing for a sweet new year. But there is another ancient tradition tracing back to the Baal Shem Tov that is a bit less famous. On the eve of Yom Kippur, it is customary for the head of the household, the synagogue president, or the rabbi to distribute slices of honey cake to everyone while wishing them a sweet new year. Curiously, the recipient is expected to explicitly ask for a piece before receiving it.
One reason for this custom is that if it was ever decreed that a person would need to rely on handouts or ask others for food in the coming year, asking for this piece of cake fulfills that decree upfront (Otzar Dinim U’Minhagim, p. 461). The Rebbe used to stand for hours on the day before Yom Kippur, handing out honey cake to thousands of people while wishing each one a sweet new year.
There is also a third honey tradition. Throughout the rest of the year, we dip the first slice of bread at a meal into salt. But during these three weeks—from Rosh Hashanah through Hoshana Rabbah—we dip our bread into honey instead. For twenty-one straight days, we are on a “honeymoon” with the Divine.
Forbidden on the Altar, Allowed on the Table
All of this sounds wonderful, but there is a slight catch with our honey celebration.
The Torah states: “You shall not offer any leaven or any honey as a fire-offering to G-d” (Leviticus 2:11). If honey represents such goodness and sweetness, why was it strictly forbidden on the Temple altar? What could possibly be wrong with honey?
Furthermore, honey poses a dietary puzzle. A fundamental principle in the Mishnah dictates: “That which comes from an impure source is impure, and that which comes from a pure source is pure” (Bechorot 5b). For instance, cow’s milk is kosher because a cow is a kosher animal, whereas camel’s milk is not kosher because camels are non-kosher animals.
So the obvious question arises: bees are non-kosher insects, so by that logic, shouldn’t bee honey be forbidden as well?
The Talmud explains that bees do not actually produce honey from their own bodies. Instead, they collect nectar from flowers, store it internally, and transform it through nectar enzymes before depositing it in the hive (Bechorot 7b). Because it isn’t a bodily byproduct, honey remains kosher. Still, some commentators suggest that because it originates via a non-kosher insect, it was deemed unsuitable for temple offerings.
There is another key reason honey wasn’t offered on the altar. Generally, a person could only bring something to the Temple if it was the product of their own hard work and ownership. Take the first-fruits offering (Bikkurim): a farmer would bring the very first yields of their land to the Temple in a festive celebration.
The Mishnah specifies that you can only bring first fruits from produce you personally cultivated—not from wild, ownerless trees (Bikkurim 1:2). Offerings must represent human effort—plowing, planting, weeding, and sweating. When you dedicate something you poured your energy into, that effort makes the gift meaningful. You couldn’t just offer something you stumbled upon without working for it.
Every other offering worked the same way. Flour, wine, and oil don’t just appear on their own; they require an extensive process of harvesting, crushing, pressing, and refining.
A Sweet Year—Without the Struggle
Honey is fundamentally different because humans don’t make it—bees do. The bees perform all the labor to build the hive and produce the honey. The human simply gathers a ready-made product without having invested the labor, which is why it wasn’t suitable as an altar sacrifice.
Yet when it comes to our personal wishes for the new year, honey is exactly what we want. We are asking for a year of sweetness and abundance that comes easily—a living earned without grueling effort, where blessing lands right in our hands like honey gathered without effort.
We all know what it’s like to grind endlessly to close a deal or make something happen. But every now and then, things just click effortless: a client walks in unexpected, agrees to terms without negotiating, and thanks you profusely on top of it. That is unearned sweetness falling into your lap.
That is the kind of year we are hoping for in every area of life. That is why honey takes center stage all month long. Here’s wishing everyone not just a good year, but a truly sweet one.
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