On Friday afternoon, a large group of women, children and men of all ages gathered around the long tables we set up for our weekly challah bake. My husband had just presented an overview about the significance of challah when a woman raised her hand like a stop sign and insisted on sharing her challah miracle story:

She introduced herself as the programming and recreation director for an elder-care center. At this center, there was one floor that housed many people from Eastern Europe, and she tried hard to find activities that would interest them. This group was by far her most challenging; they seemed unreachable. Often, they would be gathered in a social room just staring off into their own worlds, not even speaking with one another. She researched music, art or dances that they might be familiar with—anything that would light a spark and bring them some joy—but it was very difficult to find things they cared for. One day, she decided to make challah with them.

She laid out her ingredients next to a large bowl and pitcher of water, and announced her intentions. Suddenly, one woman pushed her wheelchair forward and began pointing animatedly, indicating what she must do first. Another woman came forward with a different idea of how things should be done. Before long, so many people were engaged, arguing and recalling how they made challah back in the days of their youth. She watched this miracle unfold. They were all full of life and passion, connecting with each other and remembering their youth: the power of challah.

So many times, we do an arts-and-crafts project or cooking activity with our children and feel so good spending quality time with them. Baking challah with our children, though, can offer even more. It can impart a Divine higher consciousness—an awareness of G‑d and how He is with us in everything we do. As we say the blessing on the dough, we acknowledge that everything we have is a gift from G‑d. What would otherwise be an ordinary activity now becomes a way of serving Him. This delicious challah also becomes a taste of Shabbat, enhancing our meal and celebration. Through challah, a mundane activity is transformed into a spiritual experience.

This is underscored in the verse where the mitzvah of separating challah is mentioned.1 The phraseology is unique. The dough is described as “the first of your kneading bowl.” In Hebrew, the word for a “kneading bowl” is arisa, which can also mean a “cradle.” This highlights the importance of bringing the awareness and higher consciousness of G‑d’s presence even to infants in the cradle.

The word challah can be divided into two words: chol hay.2 The word chol means both “ordinary” as well as “to place.” Hay is the letter that represents G‑d’s name. The message of challah is to “place” G‑d into the picture and transform the “ordinary” into a meaningful Divine experience. Challah is really about revealing this connection between us and G‑d, the mundane and spiritual, and with each other.

In the elder-care facility, the residents making challah displayed their love for Judaism, as well as the investment of devoted parents who instilled in their children the enthusiasm and excitement of making challah for Shabbat and festivals. It was indelible, part of their identity, and remained with them for so many decades. More than any form of entertainment could accomplish, this reached their core and brought forth their passion. It had the power to bring them together and celebrate the Judaism they all experienced and treasured.

And once again, here at our challah bake—in the shared experience of making beautiful delicious challah for Shabbos, giving charity, reciting a blessing and learning about the beauty of the weekly holiday—everyone present became a part of transmitting the powerful chol hey message of challah.

Dedicated to my dear mother, Rebbetzin Tzivia Miriam (Gurary) bas Harav Yizchak Hacohen, of blessed memory, who devoted her life to bringing the love of Judaism to her family and so many fellow Jews.