Stay Salty Parshas Vayera
Back when every preteen couldn’t stop saying, 6-7, I told myself I would never give a drasha on that topic. No drasha on sus, aura, cooked, crash-out. None of that. It would be way too cringe.
But today I’m going to break that commitment and discuss one such term and that is – salty.
For those who don’t know what the term means to teenagers, here’s a sentence: Simcha, our Bar Mitzvah boy this Shabbos, has probably never been salty his whole life.
Salty, in 2026, means someone who is bitter, resentful, upset.
Simcha Lopin, true to his name, Simcha, is always with a smile and always positive. Simcha is low-key the least salty person I know.
In Judaism, salt has a very different connotation. So much so, that I would say that Simcha is actually the saltiest person I know.
So let’s take a little journey through the Torah on the topic of salt and I think you’ll see what I mean.
Where does salt play a role in the Torah?
- In the parsha that Simcha just read so beautifully, it discusses the destruction of Sedom. The Torah describes the land being destroyed with sulfur and salt. Why salt?
- Most famously, Lot and his wife are told to not turn around. And yet, Lot’s wife does exactly that. The Torah tells us that she was transformed into a pillar of salt.
There are tour guide in the Dead Sea region today, who will point to different salt pillars, each one claiming that that one is Lot’s wife. Again, why salt?
- Dipping Challah into salt. Why?
- Every Korban, every animal sacrifice is brought with salt. Why salt?
- Washing your hands after a meal – mayim achronim. The Gemara says this is done because of the ‘salt of Sedom.’
That’s a lot of salt. No wonder Jews have such high blood pressure.
Is there any common thread that brings all these salty Mitzvos and stories together? I believe there is.
Salt is a preservative – this is why when Hashem makes a promise, it is sometimes described as a ‘covenant of salt.’ Salt preserves items by drawing out its moisture.
That is also how salt makes food more flavorful. The drawn-out moisture spreads the flavor that is sometimes locked inside a food item.
We dip challah into salt because back in the day, bread tasted lousy. Bread was most often used as a type of spoon to scoop up the meat sauce you were eating. If you just made a bracha on bread it would be inappropriate to eat something that didn’t have so much flavor. So to make sure the bread was worthy of a bracha, it was dipped into salt to bring out more flavor.
Which is why, by the way, there are Halachic authorities, who say that nowadays there is no obligation to dip your bread into salt. Our bread already has salt. Our bread tastes amazing on its own.
Rav Mordechai Gifter suggests that this is why our sacrifices in the Bais Hamikdash were always brought with salt, and conversely, we were not allowed to put honey on a Korban. That’s because even in our religious life it is so easy to get caught up in externalities. How beautiful is your Esrog? How many hours do you learn? Which boards do you sit on? All those things, as beautiful as they are, are honey, they are superficial.
Salt reminds us to dig deeper. Salt reminds us not to get caught up in external trappings. Salt draws out our inner selves because that’s the only thing that matters.
Sedom was a very superficial place. When the Gemara tells us that we are to wash our hands after a meal because of the salt of Sedom, some understand this to be a reference to some corrosive and dangerous ingredient that was mixed into salt. We are obligated to wash our hands after eating for safety – so that we don’t later rub our eyes with that dangerous slat on our hands. Being that modern salt is not dangerous, there are many who argue that there is no longer a need to wash Mayim Achronim.
Rav Kook understands the ‘Salt of Sedom’ symbolically. When we eat, we inevitably get sucked into externalities; the presentation of the food, the smell, the taste. Like the people of Sedom, we lose sight of what’s important in life. So when we finish eating, as we move on to the rest of our lives, we wash our hands as a way of cleansing ourselves from this superficiality.
Which brings us back to Lot’s wife. Her mistake seems to be that she turned around to look at the city’s destruction. But what’s odd is that in the very next verse, it says that Avraham looked at the city as well. Why is he not punished?
If you read the text closely, you’ll see it wasn’t that she looked, it was how she looked at Sedom.
The Torah says, vatabet, and she gazed. Regarding Avraham, the Torah writes, vayashkeif, which means to look in a penetrating and thoughtful fashion.
Where Lot’s wife saw destroyed pastureland and financial ruin, Avraham saw lost lives and potential.
Where Lot’s wife saw three bothersome guests who would use up their food, Avraham saw an opportunity to bring more goodness into the world.
Vatabet; she may have physically left Sedom, but she was still a superficial Sedomite at heart. Or as Sherlock Holmes once said, “You see, dear Watson, but you do not comprehend.” And so, Lot’s wife becomes a pillar of salt – an eternal reminder to live a saltier, more genuine, deeper life. That’s what salt represents in Judaism; a reminder to go beneath the surface, to live deeply.
Which brings me back to Simcha – You see, Simcha Lopin has mad rizz.
You do. You’re amazing at basketball, you have a ton of friends, you do well in school, and those are all beautiful things.
But you’re also salty – in the most Jewish way possible. You’re incredibly kind and gracious, not only with your friends in school, but with your little brother, even when no one’s looking. When I asked your parents what your qualities are, the first thing they said is that you see the good in others. And when I asked you what you plan on doing with all your talents, you shrugged, you smiled, and then you said, “I want to use my qualities to help others.”
To be salty is a way of life:
It’s about seeing a home, not a house, realizing that all material things are fleeting, but what we build within them can last forever.
It’s about seeing opportunities, not challenges, remembering that we are not only here to enjoy ourselves, but to constantly grow, and that usually comes with growing pains.
It’s about seeing people, not categories. Cool/ uncool. People worth talking to/ people I try to avoid. But recognizing the utterly unique Divine spark within every individual.
In a moment, we’ll be davening mussaf; some will say the words and check an imaginary box in their head – I davened. Others will see beyond the words and recognize how those few moments will be spent in the presence of Hashem.
In a few minutes, we’ll go outside to Kiddush; some will gravitate to their friends and the people they know. Others will look around the room and see a room brimming with holy neshamos.
Many people live an entire life without scratching their own surface. We know how that story ends; Lot’s wife is stuck, she’s frozen in time, looking blankly into the abyss.
Our legacy, the deep and penetrating sight of Avraham, is to spend our lives appreciating and bringing out the goodness in others. It is to never stop pulling flavor from the depths of our own soul, to never stop growing.
Simcha, that’s what you do. So keep being you. And whatever you end up doing with all your many talents, don’t forget to stay salty.