Washing of the Hands and Breaking Bread

Traditionally, a ritual washing of the hands precedes the blessing of the bread. This washing is not for hygiene (which should be done first) but rather to help elevate ourselves spiritually through ritual purity and to help transform the Shabbat meal into a holy event. Using a special two-handled cup, water is poured over each hand three times, and the hands are raised up while the blessing is recited.

After reciting the blessing, it is customary to remain silent until the words of the Motzi - the blessing over the bread - are spoken. Our silence links these two devotional acts and helps invoke the presence of the Divine at our meal.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְווֹתָיו וְצִוָנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדַיִים:
Baruch ata Adonai eloheinu melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al n’tilat yada’yim.
Blessed are You, our Eternal God, Ruler of the universe, Who sanctifies us with the mitzvot, and commands us to elevate our hands.

Just prior to the blessing, the cover is removed from the two loaves of challah, the special golden Shabbat bread, which is usually braided. The two whole loaves are placed on the Shabbat table to remind us of the double portion of manna that God provided every Friday while the Israelites wandered in the desert, in preparation for the day of rest, when no manna appeared (Exodus 16:22). Also, in the days of the Temple, the sacrificial ritual included two meal offerings on Shabbat, along with salt. In remembrance of that Temple ritual, some sprinkle salt on the challah prior to eating it. The loaves are lifted (in some homes everyone reaches to touch the bread) while reciting the blessing. The challah is then ripped into pieces or sliced and passed around the table, so that each person may have a piece.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיא לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ:
Baruch ata Adonai eloheinu melech ha’olam hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz.
Blessed are You, our Eternal God, Ruler of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth.
The bread is shared and the Shabbat meal is served.

From Avi Biran, this natlah made of sterling silver and semi precious stones. I love that Avi uses so much humor is in his work which remains halachically correct!

Water in Judaism

Why is washing the hands such a common ritual in Judaism? It is part of the principle of cleanliness that is basic to Jewish thinking. As against the old saying “cleanliness is next to godliness”, Judaism says “cleanliness is part of godliness”.
The importance of cleanliness is illustrated by the rule that no-one should live in a town that has no bath house. Cleanliness of the body goes with purity of the heart.

Why do we wash our hands before eating bread?
In biblical times hand-washing was essential for the kohanim but it was later extended to apply to every Jew.
For centuries, antisemites accused Jews of poisoning the wells – how else could they explain why major epidemics seemed to bypass the Jewish communities? The truth was that Jews washed their hands when rising from bed, before eating and after using the toilet, took regular baths, and observed other principles of health and hygiene.
Women immersed in the mikvah each month; pious men also used the mikvah on a regular basis. This is not to say that these practices necessarily aimed at preventing disease, though this was a crucial consequence.

Designed in 1972 by Sharon Geller-Metal at the Jewish Museum
in New York City, this sterling silver ritual handwashing cup
represents the perfect synthesis of form and function. Ergonomically designed, the pure lines and graceful handle combine to produce a striking washing cup that is beautiful to look at, a pleasure to use and a joy to own. The inside of the cup reveals the Hebrew words "al netilat yadayim," the conclusion of the blessing for ceremonial hand washing.

Washing away...

From the Mikvah Project...


I left the church when I was sixteen. It just wasn't right for me theologically or emotionally, although there was good singing. After granting my approval for conversion in Israel, the rabbis were very slow to give me the go-ahead for mikvah. So I called them every day. I told them how awful it was that they were making me live through another Sabbath before I could finally be a Jew. It turned out that's just what they wanted to hear.
My ex-husband had moved out two years before, and I knew in my mind and in my heart that the marriage was over. We had a Jewish divorce, but there was an emotional piece that I just couldn't let go of. I thought mikvah could create a way to help me bridge this difficult period. Mikvah immersion left me feeling washed free of this overlay of guilt and "what if". From that night I could look forward instead of backward.

Through nine years of infertility, it was like a death memorial every time I got my period. And then, when I was ready to go to the mikvah each month, it was a restoration of hope – I’d had that time to mourn.

Three ceramic washing cups from the Jerusalem studios of Artworks and the talented hands of Mallory Serebrin.

A Jewish Response to Mental Illness

The room was dark.

Rabbi Eleazar was still in bed.
His face turned toward the wall.
He couldn't even bring himself to look toward the window at life and light.
Rabbi Yochanan entered the room.
He looked down through the darkness at his friend.
Rabbi Yochanan pulled a chair to the side of the bed.
He hung his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down.
The rabbi prepared to sit in this heavy silence for a long time.
He began to roll up his sleeve.
His face reflected the darkness.
But his hands and arms seemed to brighten the room with their own light.
Rabbi Eleazar turned from the wall to face his friend.
Yochanan asked: Why are you crying?
Is it because you didn't study enough Torah?
Surely we learned: the one who sacrifices much and the one who sacrifices little have the same merit, as long as they direct their hearts toward heaven.
Is it perhaps lack of wealth?
Not everyone gets to enjoy a double portion.
Perhaps you suffer because you are jealous.
Could it be that you regret not being a father?
You are looking at a man who has buried ten children!
Rabbi Eleazar looked into the darkness
for another silent moment.
Then he blinked at the brightness
of Yochanan's crisp, white shirt.
His gentle hands.
The pale skin of his forearms.
Eleazar finally spoke.
I weep because all light fades into darkness.
Because all beauty eventually rots.
After some time Rabbi Yochanan replied: On that account, you surely have reason to weep.
They wept in darkness together.
Yochanan asked: Does darkness comfort you?
Slowly, Eleazar shook his head. Maybe it did in the beginning, but it can't protect me from my thoughts.
Yochanan asked: And the silence? Is it comforting?
No.
And being alone?
Eleazar looked into his friend's eyes.
No. No, loneliness adds to my suffering.
Do you continue to welcome this darkness, this silence, this sadness?
No. Before, I couldn't bear light, noise, or laughter.
Now, I can no longer bear the alternatives. But I didn't dare to look for a way back to living.
Yochanan asked: Will you let me help you?
I will try.
Can I give you my hand?
Eleazar stretched out his hand. He felt light and life touch him. He felt strength and warmth reach him. His friend raised him out of his bed and helped him to the door.
Please read the remainder of this d'var torah here

I found this hand washing cup at The Source for Everything Jewish. It is acrylic and embedded with 100s of little flowers from Israel. Lovely isn't it?