Everything on my mother’s table had another meaning. For Rosh Hashana,  of course, everything was sweet.  

Except, of course, the fish.  The gefilte fish was served always with the head – so that you will be the head and not the tail of your endeavors.  The tsimmes was sweet, but the real meaning in that dish was the carrots – meren – in Yiddish.  Mer is more, so the year will bring more for you.  The chicken wings were served so that you will fly throughout the year.  And the teiglach – the little balls of dough cooked in honey and piled into a cone – a reminder that sweetness unites individuals and creates a powerful structure.

The thing that hit me most powerfully is the fact that we ingest our symbols.  They become a part of us.  The shofar always moved me, but it was a call from without…