Parsha Re'eh: A Spiritual Life Lesson on Judaism's Prohibition of Mixing Meat and Dairy

Food plays such a major role in our lives. We eat three meals a day, not to mention food is a great way to bring people together. What we don't eat almost says as much as what we do eat. Some decide to cut out carbohydrates (Atkins). Others decide to cut out meat (vegetarian) or go as far as not eating animal products (vegan). Why people make these dietary decisions ranges from health to moral reasons. In this week's Torah portion, we come across a particular form of food to cut out of the Jewish diet:

לא תבשל גדי בחלב אמו.

Do not cook a kid (baby goat) in its mother's milk. -Deuteronomy 14:21

Although the verse itself only mentions a goat, the Rabbis interpreted this verse to prohibit cooking, eating, and benefiting from a mixture of meat and dairy (also see Exodus 23:19, 34:26). That means no chicken parmesan or no cheeseburgers. What lesson is G-d trying to teach us in this prohibition? Some believe that Jewish dietary laws fall under the category of חק (chok), that which does not have an explanation or reason to it. Much like Rambam (Maimonides), I don't believe that G-d created these laws without reason. I believe that Judaism provides us with the opportunity to elevate the mundane into the holy. I also believe that we are what we eat, a concept I detail while analyzing the Jewish prohibition on pork and the Jewish decree that fish need to have fins and scales in order to be consumed. This makes sense considering that earlier in Deuteronomy 14:21, G-d gives us these laws because "the Jews are a holy people."  Bringing it back to the initial question: what exactly about not mixing meat and dairy is holy? There are a few explanations in Jewish tradition:

1. A choice between life and death. Milk represents life, and meat represents death. Perhaps the purpose of tradition is teach us the importance of distinction and functionality in order that we a) are conscientious of what leads us towards life and towards death, and b) that we choose life so we may live (Deuteronomy 30:19). 
2. Against animal cruelty and human cruelty. R. Abraham ibn Izra said that mixing a kid with its mother's milk implies extreme barbarism. R. Abraham Joshua Heschel said that "How ungrateful and callous we would be to take the child of an animal to whom we are so indebted and cook it in the very milk which nourishes us and is given to us so freely by its mother." If we are supposed to consider animal cruelty as a part of our spiritual practice, we are a fortiori all the more obligated to make sure we are not cruel towards our fellow human beings.
3. The animalistic versus the spiritual side of life. R. Samson Hirsch takes the dichotomy between meat and dairy in a different direction. For R. Hirsch, meat represents the animal portion of life, i.e., reproduction and sexual activity. Milk is the nourishment that supports new life. While these are actions that are natural, we should learn to differentiate between our activities and makes sure they are channeled toward the service of G-d. R. Hirsch saw the prohibition on this mixture as an embodiment of Jewish holiness (R. Hirsch on Exodus 23:19).
4. Idolatry. In his text Guide for the Perplexed (III, xlviii), Rambam suggests that cooking a kid in its mother's milk was an idolatrous practice in the days of yore, hence the prohibition. The only flaw with this argument is that no such rite is known. 
5. Gluttony. The verses that refer to the prohibition of such a mixture use the goat as the example. I was thinking to myself, "What makes the goat special in this context?" I was reading in the Sonchino Chumash that goats are rich in milk. Taking that reality to the next level, the abundance of milk that the goat produced could be seen as a metaphor for gluttony (Rashbam). 

Although it might not seem probable, I can actually tie together these interpretations. I have brought up this point up before, but idolatry is when you take G-d out of the equation and worship something else. In the case of not mixing meat and dairy, the idolatry that this mixture is supposed to represent is gluttony. Gluttony is a form of worshiping the self, one's animalistic desires. This is not to say we should never take ourselves into consideration because there is room for self-care and worrying about oneself. At the same time, when it is only about the self and it is at the expense of other people (and as this passage teaches, at the expense of animals), we lose sight of our humanity, much like we saw with Sodom.

As human beings, we are so much more than unadulterated selfishness or a life of straight-up hedonism. What separates us from the animals is our ability to discern. We can choose between right and wrong. We can choose to be cruel or kind. We can choose to give into our most animalistic of urges or we can channel it towards something higher. The prohibition is more than some seemingly arbitrary dietary rule to make another facet of life more difficult. It is a reminder of a Jew's higher purpose. Judaism teaches us enjoy the pleasures of this world, but not overdoing it. This prohibition is a reminder to be kind instead of cruel. In short, a Jew's calling is to choose life. Amazing what spiritual lessons not eating a cheeseburger can teach!

Parsha Shemini: Jews Allowed to Eat Pork? When Pigs Fly!

In this week's Torah portion, G-d provides guidance on Jewish dietary law, or kashrut, in Leviticus 11. The chapter talks about the number of animals, including fish, birds, and yes, pigs:

ואת החזיר כי מפריס פרסה הוא, ושסע שסע פרסה, והוא גרה לא יגר. טמא הוא לכם.

-And the pig, because its has a split hoof and doesn't regurgitate its own cud; it is unclean. -Leviticus 11:7

In an earlier passage, the Torah teaches that a kosher animal is one that has split hooves and chews its own cud (Leviticus 11:3). Since the pig only violates one of two of the criteria, you would think that the pig would not be as bad as the animals that violate both criteria. Yet the pig is so disdained by traditional Jews, and the prohibition of its consumption is well-known by Jew and non-Jew alike. Why is the pig so infamous?

• One explanation can be was the pig was historically a source of food that was in high supply. Some think that the pig, unlike other non-kosher farm animals, only serves the purpose of being killed and eaten, which is to be considered abhorrent. 
• Perhaps it was because pigs played a prominent role in idolatrous worship (Rambam). 
• The pig can represent the conflation between material and spiritual attainment. 
• The pig is the only animal with split hooves, but does not chew its cud. When the pig stretches out his legs and displays his hooves, it seems to say "Look how kosher I am" while not mentioning that it chews cud. This is the sign of someone who is a hypocrite or acts externally pious while hiding flaws (Leviticus Rabbah 13:5). This interpretation teaches us to avoid deceit and hypocrisy. 
• R. Meir of Premishlan took the analogy from Leviticus Rabbah the following way. He said that the pig, who acts externally pious but is internally vapid, is one who does not properly fulfill the mitzvah. Sure, it's nice if someone invites you to their home for a meal, but if they leave hungry or they're embarrassed at some point in the evening, then it was not a proper mitzvah. Or to frame this slightly differently, even good intentions don't mean much if the end-result of the mitzvah was not good, which is why we have to be mindful of when helping others out and make sure that is in accordance with their needs and not our perception of their needs. 
• R. Chayim ibn Abtr (Or HaChayim, Lev. 11:7) was under the impression that during the Messianic era, the pig would evolve and produce the ability to chew its cud, thereby becoming a kosher animal. This ability to change is meant to teach us about how we can return to the inherent good that G-d has bestowed in each of us. 
• R. Yissocher Frand made an interesting point about word order in the verse. He pointed out that the Torah points out the split hooves (the kosher aspect) before pointing out that it doesn't chew its own cud (the non-kosher aspect). What this is meant to teach is that even if someone is still very flawed, we should not only point out their positive attributes, but emphasize them before getting into flaws.  

We are what we eat, and these insights teach us how ritual reflects great spiritual truths. We are meant to make sure that our behavior is consistent. When dealing with others, we make sure we do our best to treat people like human beings, see the good they have to offer, and realize that even those who are flawed have the potential to change. By not eating pig, the prohibition reminds Jews how to reach our spiritual maximum.

Parsha Shemini: There's Something Fishy Going On

Thinking up a blog entry for this week's Torah portion wasn't as easy as shooting fish in a barrel, but I was able to come up with this. I was reading this week's Torah portion and was looking at the part about kosher animals. I came across the section on fish (Leviticus 11:9-12), and I started pondering as to why fish required fins and scales to be kosher. Since every fish with scales has fins (Talmud, Niddah 51b), why say סנפיר וקשקשת ("fins and scales")? Isn't that a bit redundant? And what is about fins and scales that G-d wants us to notice or recognize?

The Gerre Rebbe points out that by mentioning both fins and scales, one can fulfill two divine directives while eating fish, which further honors the Torah. Although it makes for a nice d'var, let's think of fins and scales in terms of their functionality and how that can be interpreted.

So here's what I came up with:

Scales protect fish from harm. Much like a fish's durability, G-d wants us to develop a sense of resilience and adaptability to one's surroundings when life seems dark or decides to throw you a curve ball. Life is not meant to be all sunshine and good times. When life knocks us down, He wants us to get up. One of the reasons that the Jewish people still exists is because of resilience. As King Solomon once said, "for a righteous man falls seven times and gets up again (Proverbs 24:16)."

This is the moment where I point out that the fins are not a redundancy at all. Why? Because to analogize us to the fish, when we decide to get back up, the fins are there to propel us forward. Fins are the mechanism that allow fish to swim and actualize their potential.  Much like fish, G-d wants us to explore the depths of the ocean and actualize our potential. He wants us to marvel at the wonders around us and appreciate what we have. 

We are what we eat. G-d wants us to learn something from this precept, and that is to be able to live our lives to the fullest, even when the turbulence of the ocean knocks us around more than a few times.

Magen Tzedek: Dealing with Food Politics in Judaism

In recent past weeks, the Magen Tzedek initiative started by the Conservative movement has been getting a bit of heat.  What the Magen Tzedek entails is creating an "ethical hechsher" that is meant to go along side of already-established hechshers.  According to the Magen Tzedek website, the purpose of the Magen Tzedek is as follows:

Founded on the principle that we are what we eat, Magen Tzedek is an ethical seal signifying that kosher food has been prepared with care and integrity. Products carrying the Magen Tzedek seal reflect the highest standard on a variety of important issues: employee wages and benefits, health and safety, animal welfare, corporate transparency and environmental impact.  A concept that grows more relevant with every passing day, Magen Tzedek demonstrates that ritual and ethical commandments have an equal place at our tables.

The Magen Tzedek garnered attention from many Orthodox Jews, particularly from the organization of Agudath Israel.  Agudath Israel accused those heading the Magen Tzedek initative of "redefining kashrut," that "the Conservative movement has no respect for halacha," and concluded by calling Magen Tzedek "a falsification of Jewish heritage."

You would think that you couldn't politicize something like food, particularly in a religious context, but that's exactly what is happening here.  Up until approximately the 1950s, the differences between the Conservative and Orthodox movements were subtle.  That changed with the creation of suburbia.  The American dream to live in a nice, big home with a lawn and white picket fences was too alluring.  As such, Conservative communities lived further and further apart, which caused strains on the Conservative movement in terms of being able to maintain "the traditional lifestyle."  Nowadays, the Conservative movement looks much more like the Reform movement than it does the Orthodox.  The Magen Tzedek initative is nothing less than the Conservative movement trying to re-gain validity as a movement.  Since the Orthodox have became the "gatekeepers of Judaism" and have monopolistically declared that they are "halachic Judaism," they don't want to relinquish any of that validity or power to non-Orthodox movements.

The Orthodox are correct that kashrut strictly has to do with dietary restrictions.  However, the Conservative movement is also correct to say that the Magen Tzedek is not to replace the traditional concept of kashrut.  I agree with that statement.  We should not give up the traditional sense of kashrut because it is an institution that helps define Jews and Judaism.   However, to dismiss the concerns brought up by the Conservative movement (see this responsum for more details) is to dismiss other Jewish values.  Treating animals with kindness, workers with dignity, and considerations for the environment are just as much Jewish values as kashrut.

This is more than a threat on the Orthodox monopoly of the definition of halacha.  What one has to keep in mind is that Orthodoxy, like any form of fundamentalism, predicates itself upon bifurcation.  It's either a simplistic "yes or no" and "black or white" type of answer.  There is no grey in the middle.  How does this relate to kashrut?  In the traditional sense of kashrut, either a certain food is kosher or it is not kosher.  You can't ask if a pig is kosher and answer with "maybe."  We know that pig is treif.  If the Orthodox got past their cognitive dissonance and accepted these values as part of their consumption decisions, it would complicate matters greatly.  Which values take precedence?  For instance, let's say that there is a product that has the Orthodox Union hechsher, but we all know that the workers that produced the product are treated very poorly by their employer.  Do we buy it because it is prepared according the laws of kashrut or do we decide to not buy it because it violates the mitzvah of לא תלין?  Ethics are more difficult to control than ritual, which is why the Orthodox would prefer to keep the matter a ritualistic one. 

I do, however have a couple of issues with Magen Tzedek.  One is the practical issue of enforceability.  Without being Big Brother, how are you going to be certain that a given business is following those standards?  Also, how do we determine what those standards are in the first place?  Furthermore, I take issue with the fact that most Jews who consume kosher products are Orthodox.  They're not going to want what they perceive as a heresy next to the current hechshers.  It would be bad business for hechshers as Orthodox Union and Star-K.  Finally, I don't think this is going to encourage kosher consumption, which is one of the primary reasons for this initiative to begin with.  Although it's a bold endeavor, I nevertheless that it doesn't get at the root causes that have made most Jews non-observant. 

I would hope that we can set aside food politics to our utmost to have Jews embrace Jewish values in all facets of their life.

Can We Modify the Definition of Kashrut?

We are what we eat.  The more I study Jewish dietary laws and the reasoning behind them, I find that dietary choices reflect one's personality.  The piggishness of many Americans brings new meaning to "you eat like a pig."  In contrast, people who make conscientious decisions regarding their diet, whether it is in keeping with the traditional notion of kashrut or keeping vegetarian out of a sanctity of [animal] life, are, by and large, more refined individuals.

Back in December 2009, I had done a series of blogs on what it means to keep kosher.  I had analyzed the reasoning from spiritual, ethical, nationalistic, and health-based reasons given from Jewish tradition.  Even after posting those blogs, I had always came back to the questions of "Why Kosher?" and "What Does It Mean to Keep Kosher?"  I ask these questions for two reasons.  The first reason is that I am a strong proponent in the Maimonidean concept that the Torah is human-oriented, which means that the purposes of Torah are to refine the individual and to refine humanity.  The second reason is because so much has changed in recent history that different questions are being asked than they were fifty or a hundred years ago.

Some people might be shocked to find that the motivation for writing this blog entry is an article from the Reform Movement that touches upon this very topic.  Although I generally disagree with the Reform Movement for a myriad of reasons, I still believe that a broken clock can at least be right twice a day.  And so it goes with this article.  It got me pondering whether we can modify the definition of kashrut.  For the more traditionally-minded, I'm not going to tackle the myth of "nothing ever changes in Judaism" because it should be self-evident that plenty has changed since Moses came down from Mount Sinai.  But I hope that you also realize that I chose the word "modify" over "change," which has the implication that I am not looking to automatically throw out every dietary law on the books.  I am, however, looking for a way to make sure that by either rendering new meanings or re-discovering traditional meanings to our dietary practices, kashrut becomes neither trivial nor vapid.

I am glad to see that the Reform Movement brought up questions of whether it has a hechsher or if is in accordance with Jewish law.  These are important questions to bring up in mind since it we are talking about what it means to eat Jewishly.  Ultimately, when I refer to modification, I am talking about the possibility of taking other factors into consideration when determining whether something is fit to eat.  I think asking this is of importance because the word "kosher" literally means "fit" or "proper," and is not limited to food consumption.  Therefore, it gives us license to bring in other factors. 

For instance, the article brings up whether in our food consumption, we violate the mitzvah of b'al tashchit (not wantonly wasting or destroying).  If Jewish tradition teaches us that we are supposed to be so meticulous that we are not supposed to even destroy a mustard seed, then we should bring this environmental consciousness within our Jewish practice.  By considering b'al taschit, we can turn something as seemingly mundane as recycling or not buying more food than we need into a spiritual act.

Shemirat Haguf, protection of the body, is another Jewish value I think many forget.  Is the consistent eating of fatty meats and sugar-packed desserts kosher, even though they have kosher certification on it?  Nope!  Deuteronomy 4:9, 15 teaches us to protect our bodies because our bodies are the vessels in which we do mitzvot.  We are also taught to choose life, and that means prolonging our lives.  It doesn't matter if the unhealthy food stocked in your kitchen has the proper certification.  If you are making poor dietary decisions that deteriorate the overall health of your body, that is not kosher.

Tza'ar baylei chayim, the mandate not to treat animals cruelly, is yet another Jewish value to consider.  We have to keep in mind that modern agriculture is very different from that of our ancestors.  It has essentially become a greed-motivated, assembly line process where animals are cramped into cages (i.e., it's anything but free range) and treated miserably.  Do we go about considering the treatment of our animals when we purchase them?  Shechita, kosher slaughter, is the most compassionate way to kill an animal.  But if we are going to be concerned with the suffering of an animal at Point Z, shouldn't we be equally concerned with the animal's well-being from points A to Y?

Postscript: Much of the questions that the Reform Movement presented in their article are still in the exploratory phase for me and my attempt to properly define what it means to eat in a kosher manner.  Even so, I can state that in my life, keeping kosher will go beyond the certification process.  As I continue to ponder these questions, I hope to come up with more answers and more insight not only as to what keeping kosher means, but also why and how these new factors resonate with a twenty-first century Jew who is looking to preserve tradition while still bringing in innovation and change in his Jewish practice.   

Jews Should Be Vegetarians

That’s a ballsy statement to make—Jews should be vegetarians. Usually, when people hear something like that, one automatically thinks of the stereotypical “holier-than-thou” vegetarian who tries to force their vegetarianism on everybody else because he thinks that vegetarianism truly is dietary superiority. That is not the purpose of this blog entry. I am fully aware that G-d gave man permissibility to eat meat in Genesis 9:3. If I tried to argue that meat consumption was forbidden, I would lose that argument in a New York minute. I am not making an imperative argument here, but merely a highly suggestive one.

One of the primary arguments that traditional Jews make against vegetarianism is that it is anathema to Jewish concepts. Not only will I outline how it is not an anti-Jewish practice, but how it actually enhances one’s Jewishness and is consistent with Jewish values.

כשרות קל.  Vegetarianism makes for better Jewish observance. Some people have a hard time believing this one, but think about it. What do a vast majority of Jewish dietary laws entail? Limiting the consumption of meat. First of all, you have to wait six hours to eat dairy after you eat meat. Wouldn’t it be better to eat whenever you want rather than wait? Second, you have to own four pairs of dishes. Wouldn’t it be better to have just two—one set for Pesach and the other for the rest of the year? Third, kosher meat is downright expensive, particularly in light of the Agriprocessers scandal. If you’re looking to save a few bucks, don’t eat meat. This is viable to do in America, especially since more and more food in the supermarkets has a hechsher on it.

This reason is one of my personal favorites—if you don’t eat meat, there is no way that you can transgress twenty mitzvot. For Orthodox Jews, this should be reason enough, especially when Orthodoxy has unprecedentedly taken the approach of “stringency for stringency’s sake,” or what they would prefer to call חומרה. If Orthodox Jews want to build a fence around dietary laws to absolutely make sure that they don’t want to violate any of the laws of kashrut d’oraita, as well as most of the laws d’rabanam, don’t eat meat…it’s that simple! Even if you’re not Orthodox, but you’re looking to get in touch with your Jewishness, vegetarianism is so much easier than all the convoluted laws involving meat. Vegetarianism, in fact, could actually draw people closer to their Judaism rather than deter them.

פיקוח נפש‎. Vegetarianism is a healthier practice than consuming meat since, on average, it increases longevity up to a decade. The Torah mandates us to preserve our health, which is implied from His word: "Take heed to thyself and take care of your lives (Deut. 4:9),” and again six verses later: "Be extremely protective of your lives (ibid 4:15).” Judaism teaches that our bodies are the vessels for our souls (Ta'anit 11a-b). If you are in poor health, it becomes all the more difficult to perform a mitzvah. As Maimonides states: "Since maintaining a healthy and sound body is among the ways of G-d - for one cannot understand or have knowledge of the Creator if one is ill—therefore one must avoid that which harms the body and accustom oneself to that which is helpful and helps the body become stronger (MT, Hilchot Deot 4:1).” If you shorten your time span on Earth, you deprive yourself of doing more mitzvahs. As R. Samson Hirsch points out in Horeb (Ch. 62, ivcxxviii) “You may not rob yourself of your life nor cause your body the slightest injury... Only if the body is healthy is it an efficient instrument for the spirit's activity... Therefore you should avoid everything which might possibly impair your health."  In short, our physical health becomes our spiritual health.


It's not that that I have more to say on the topic.  It's just that there's enough to say that I need to divide this into two posts.  Part Two is coming soon.....

Maimonidean Approach on Ethical Kashrut

In the last blog, I was discussing how kashrut was created to cultivate man. I ended with the beginning of a "discussion" between Nachmanides and Maimonides. I didn't let Rambam get his say in on the matter, so I will do so now:

"For in general the eggs which the bird has sat and the young that need their mother are not fit to be eaten. If then the mother is let go, she will not be pained by seeing that the young are taken away. In most cases, this will lead people to leave everything alone, for what may be taken in most cases is not fit to be eaten. If the law takes into consideration these pains [in the case of beasts and birds], what will be the case in regard to the individuals of the human species." -Guide for the Perplexed, ch. III, part xlviii

Rambam also mentions that when we perform shechita, we should make sure that the knife is as sharp as possible so as to minimize the pain to the animal (ibid, part xxvi). The Rambam's view on treatment of animals can be summarized with the following (ibid, part xlviii):

"For in these cases, animals feel very great pain, there being no difference regarding this pain between man and other animals. For the love and the tenderness of a mother for her child is not consequent upon reason, but upon the activity of the imaginative faculty which is found in most animals just as it is found in man."

To summarize Rambam's argument in a nice, little sound byte: Animals are sentient beings!

Because of this realization, we are faced with a an ethical quandry. If animals are sentient beings, and Proverbs (12:10) is indeed correct in asserting that a righteous man regards the life of an animal, how do we comprehend the notion of meat-eating in Judaism? If we are to "abhor" bloodshed and show compassion, even towards animals, how does Judaism come to terms with eating meat? An even better question: with all of this in mind, can Judaism come to terms with being omnivorous?

My final entry in this kashrut series will deal with Judaism and vegetarianism.

Kashrut as a Moral Cultivator

"The Torah's commandments were not given to humankind for any purpose other than to refine people." -Genesis Rabbah 44:1

According to the Midrash, the mitzvot were created to make us into better human beings. If that's true, then kashrut has to bring us some sort of insight, realization, or mechanism that elevates our overall relationship with HaShem.  Just a few that come to mind......

1) Self-discipline.  This in inherent in any ritual, whether it be Buddhist meditation, the quotidian Kantian walk, or the seven sacraments of Catholicism. Self-discipline teaches you not to automatically give into your impulses. It gives you free will. It gives you awareness. And ultimately, it gives you a sense of self-control.  It should be no surprise that Judaism enables such self-control, even with something as seemingly mundane as eating.  The existential angst in Judaism, at least from a Kabbalistic perspective, is the inner struggle between the animal and G-dly souls.  Your animal soul just wants to eat.  You have a full stomach, it needs to be filled, so eat!  That's what animals do, after all.  But in Judaism, you go beyond that.  You think before you eat.  You are aware of what you eat. You channel those impulses and that awareness to serve HaShem.

2) Less prone to violence.  Dennis Prager makes a good point about the prohibition of consuming blood.  "It [the prohibition] produced an extraordinary antipathy to blood among Jews.  One example, in addition to the uniquely low incidence of violence among Jews, has been the vitrual nonexistence of hunting among Jews."  Judaism is an exceptionally life-affirming religion, and because of that, Jewish law abhors violence and supports the usage of it only when absoultely necessary.  The prohibition of blood consumption reinforces our commitment to eliminate violence, as well as violent tendencies from our daily lives.

3) Greater sense of compassion.  I would opine that this point is the apex of how kashrut cultivates man. R. Abraham Heschel explained that "these laws were designed to ennoble his feelings and make him sensitive to the plight of every creature. Disregard for the suffering of non-human creatures may result in insensitivity to the agony of human beings. The boy who, in crude joy, finds delight in the convulsions of an injured beetle or the anxiety of suffering animals will soon be dumb toward human pain." For Heschel, the spillover effect would not only affect treatement of animals--it would contiminate intrapersonal relations with fellow human beings, as well. Considering that Jewish people are supposed to possess the character trait of compassion (Yevamot 79a), it wouldn't bode well if we forgot the moralistic lessons of kashrut.

The agrument for compassion is best laid out in the debate of what the mitzvah of shooing the mother bird from her nest (Deuteronomy 22:6-7). Nachmanides argues that one should think of cultivating man's middot when keeping this mitzvah in mind. "The reason for the prohibition of slaying the mother and the young on the same day as well as the ordinance of sending the mother is to eriadicate cruelty and pitilessness from man's heart...not that G-d had pity on the mother bird or the mother of the young. Were that the case, G-d would have completely forbidden shechita. But the real reason is to cultivate in us the quality of mercy...since cruelty is a contagious, as is well known from the example of professional animal killers who become hardened to human suffering. These precepts regarding bird and beast are not motivated by pity for the beast but are decrees of the Almighty to cultivate good moral qualities in man."

Maimonides disagrees with Nachmanides, and believes it's about caring about the bird itself, but that is a discussion I leave for my next blog.  

The Nationalistic Side of Kashrut

Proponents of kashrut state that one of the reasons for kashrut is because it maintains Jewish particularism. Guess what? I agree! Having practices to separate Jew from non-Jew is important. The Torah commands us to "not walk in their customs (Lev. 20:23)" or "not to walk in their ways (Lev. 18:3)." I'm not disputing the Torah here, but here's where it gets tricky: exactly what does it mean to "walk in their ways?" It was something with which I grappled in regards to defining the permissibility of celebrating Thanksgiving as a Jew. Just as a review, Tosafot (Avodah Zara 11a) states that imitating the gentile consists of one of two things: idolatrous customs and foolish customs from the Gentile world, regardless of their origins.

In the Guide for the Perplexed, Maimonides points to two prohibitions within kashrut that illustrate this point:

1) Meat boiled in the milk. Boiling meat in its kid's milk was part of a fertility rite practiced amongst pagans. As such, it is forbidden. (III, xlviii)

2) Not eating the fruit until the third year. Taking the first fruit of the tree was a Babylonian practice to honor the goddess Asherah. As such, one has to wait until the third year. (III, xxxvii)


These practices clearly fit Tosafot's definition, and as such should be forbidden. Judaism has a zero-tolerance for idolatry. But does this mean that we sever all connections with greater society?

This brings me to my next point, which is the very point of the separation between Jew and non-Jew. I was talking with a Chassidic rabbi once, and there was a group of us trying to ascertain the meaning of holiness. It's a lofty word, but the rabbi told us that the word kadosh can be translated as distinct. There's a fine line between being separate and being distinct. Separate means severed from, cut off. In the context of the Jewish people, it means isolated from the rest of the world. Distinct, on the other hand, has a different connotation. It means different, distinguishable. The distinction here is analogous to the "isolation vs. integration" argument that exists within the Orthodox world. The Haredim prefer isolation from the secular world to avoid the "inherent spiritual contamination" supposedly brought on by non-Jews. Then you have the Modern Orthodox. They realize the importance of maintaining their Jewish identity while simultaneously interacting with the greater world. Their identity is distinctively Jewish, but partake in general society.

Ironically enough, I am going to cite the Lubvaticher Rebbe here: "The one and only common factor which has been present with Jews throughout the ages, in all lands, and under all circumstances, is the Torah....Our 'otherness' and indepedence of thought and conduct are not our weakness but our strength. Only in this way can we fulfill our function imposed on us by our Creator, to be unto G-d 'a kingdom of priests and a holy nation' thereby also being a treasure for all of humanity (L'Chayim Newsletter for All Jews, 9/12/1992)." The Rebbe here is illustrating an important point--our "otherness" and our mission to be a treasure for all of humanity. The priests during the days of animal sacrifices did not cut themselves off from the rest of Israel, and neither should today's Jews cut themselves off from the rest of the world. There is a balance being struck here between the particular and the universal, even if the Rebbe didn't intend for it to come off that way.

Typically, I would focus on the universalist portion of the Mensch-Yisrael dynamic, but today I want to focus on the particularistic facet. Kashrut is an integral part of Jewish identity. Every time I tell people I keep kosher, I unquestionably distinguish myself as a Jew. It usually ends up being a conversation starter, which makes people aware of why I keep kosher and what it means to be Jewish. Just an example of how the balance works--I just came back from visiting my family in Orlando, who has no clue of what kashrut is. But I explained them what the Jewish dietary laws are, how to prepare things, what to buy, the significance behind it, and part of my vacation became a teaching experience. Heck, it went over so well that we even got glatt kosher food at DisneyWorld! My vacation taught me an important lesson: I can retain my Jewishness (by keeping kosher) while interacting with the outside world. In short, I keep kosher because not only does it remind me of my mission of Tikkun Olam (repairing the world), but I also get to say "I'm a Jew and I'm proud!"

Next entry in this series: Does kashrut refine man?

Is Kosher Food "Soul Food?"

Last time, I disproved the notion of HaShem implementing kashrut because it's good for the body. This time, I look into whether kashurt was implemented for a "healthy soul." This is a notion that was described by Abarbanel (Sidrah Mishpatim, sec. 73). Describing the prohibition of eating insects, he says "[f]or this reason the Almighty used the phrase, 'Do not revolt your souls with all the vermin...' rather than terming them poisonous or harmful. They were rather unclean and abominating, indicating the spiritual rather than the physical source of their prohibition." This viewpoint was [and still is] predominantly taken on by Kabbalists, and more recently, the Chassidic movement.

From this standpoint, "the digestive system extracts the nutrients while the neshama, the soul, extracts the G-dly spark in nature...The Divine energy in every molecule of food is what actually gives us life. Kosher food has a powerful energy that imparts spiritual, intellectual, and emotional strength to the Jewish neshama. The 'sparks in non-kosher food, on the other hand, are rooted in an unholy spiritual source. That is why non-kosher food has such an insidious effect [own emphasis added]." These are the words of Tzivia Emmer, writing on behalf of the Lubavitch Women's Organization. This mindset is typical amongst Jewish mystics, most notably the Chassids.

I take two issues with this mindset. The first is the state of non-kosher food.  The Zohar takes the position that some animals inherently come from the side of holiness and others from the side of contamination [of the soul], which would mean that kosher food is bad for everyone's soul, Jewish and non-Jewish alike. But that is not the conclusion of most Chassids.  As a matter of fact, this only applies to Jewish souls (Tanya, Ch. 1).  To put Jewish souls on a different plane than a non-Jewish soul is nothing short of spiritual elitism, which is patently un-Jewish. The Talmud (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5) states that the world began with Adam so nobody could say "my ancestor is better than yours." In addition, HaShem breathed life [i.e., a neshama] into the nostrils of Adam (Genesis 2:7), who, incidentally, was not Jewish.  Plus, both the Jew and the non-Jew have a share in the World to Come (Tosefta Sanhedrin 13:2).   Both the Torah and Talmud mention humanity's common ancestry to remind us of our commonalities. This is not to say that Jewishness or the particularities of Jewish nationality and identity are not important. I will actually discuss that in my next blog.

Even if, for whatever reason, they were right about non-kosher food contaminating the Jewish soul, is that really the case? Does eating kosher food make a "more kosher human being?" I know non-observant Jews who I would properly categorize as "mensch," and have come across observant Jews who are anything but compassionate or understanding. Saying that eating kosher food inherently makes you a better human being is patently false, and R. Samuel Hirsch confirms that notion: "The observance of the dietary laws does not make a man holy; however it makes him more receptive to the ennobling influences of the spirit. One has not achieved holiness simply by observing the dietary laws, but one can then achieve it more easily."

While following HaShem's precepts are of utmost importance in Traditional Judaism, eating kosher does not "guarantee a spot in Heaven." Keeping kosher is only but a portion of Judaism. Ritual is important in Judaism, but it ignores ethics, the very gift the Jewish people gave to the rest of the world. It's not coincidence that the first question that HaShem will ask upon arriving to the gates of Heaven is not "Did you keep kosher?" but rather "Were you fair in your business dealings?" (Shabbat 31a)

From a Jewish perspective, kashrut is indeed important, but we still have yet determined why. I would like to analyze kashrut from a moralistic (i.e., does kashrut refine human beings?) standpoint, but first, it is prudent to do some analytical work from a nationalistic perspective.

Why Kosher?

Why Kosher?  It is the title of a book that I started reading today.  It is also a question I have been asking myself lately.  Between the list of forbidden animals, the prohibition against mixing meat and dairy, the waiting time between eating milk and dairy, the need for kosher utensils, not it's enough to make your head spin, but on some level, it explains why a vast majority of Jews don't keep it.  Coming from a Traditionalist mindset, difficulty of a practice isn't an automatic deterrent for me.  One way I overcame it was to simply become vegetarian.  Trust me, it makes keeping kosher infinitely easier!  But even if I didn't, it makes one wonder: why kosher?  Why did HaShem enact these dietary laws?

Some are of the impression that kashrut, or Jewish dietary laws, are a chuk, a law without reason, which usually comes along with the statement "We do it because HaShem told us."  Although that is all well and good, why did HaShem tell us?  Adhering to to a strong degree of rationalism in my life, I can hardly believe that HaShem, the Ultimate One whose divine wisdom is quite literally beyond imagination, would create us with divine intellect (see the fourth prayer of the Amidah), but keep the reasoning for His laws out of reach.  Maimonides didn't buy that argument, either.  As a matter of fact, he went as far to say that a chuk cannot exist, and implicity opines in the Guide for the Peplexed (III, xxvii-xxviii) that anyone who does is intellectually challenged.  Being an influence of Maimonidean rationalism, dismissing it as a "leap of faith" is irrational, which is why I have to question the reasoning for these laws.  Jews have come up with explanations for these laws, which is what I would like to explore.

With my conversations with non-observant Jews, I have asked them why they don't keep kosher on any level. The answer I almost always get is that medical technology brings the health risks to a negligble level. To bolster their argument, they bring this presumption into the playing field by saying since our government has high standards of regulation, the laws are made moot.  Another example of the dismissal of kashrut is citing the prohibition of pork, using the Bubonic Plauge and the 1918 Influenza Pandemic as proof, since both were transmitted by pig.  The recent H1N1 is also transmitted by pig, but that evidently doesn't stop them from pork consumption, but again, pointing out one's inconsistencies seems to be a digression at this point, so back to the topic at hand.  Since so many Jews are under the impression that HaShem provided the Jewish people with kashrut for health reasons, I figured that this would be a good place to start.

Rabbi Zalman Packouz came up with the following hygenic explanation: 

"There are many laws that promote health. Judaism forbids eating animals that died without proper slaughter and the draining of the blood (which is a medium for the growth of bacteria). Judaism also forbids eating animals that have abscesses in their lungs or other health problems.  Shellfish, mollusks, lobsters (and yes, stone crabs) which have spread typhoid and are a source for urticara (a neurotic skin affliction) are not on the diet. Milk and meat digest at an unequal rate and are difficult for the body; they are forbidden to be eaten together.  Birds of prey are not kosher -- tension and hormones produced might make the meat unhealthy."

 There are some valid points to be made.  Jews were a lot less likely to catch the Bubonic Plauge because they abstained from pork.  Shellfish, being bottom-feeders, cause certain illnesses.  Even a combination of milk and meat cause indigestion issues.  Although Rabbi Packouz illustrates some excellent examples of the connection between kashrut and health, I have a few issues with the "the Torah is a health guide" argument. 

First of all, keeping kashrut doesn't necessarily translate into healthier eating.  There's kosher fast food and there is kosher microwavable food, neither of which can be good for you.  If you consume an excess amount of beef, you will inevitably develop cardio-vascular issues later down the road.  Plus, non-kosher meats, such as rabbit or even ostrich, are actually healthier for you than some kosher meats, such as cow or goat.  And in terms of feeling better from a cold, a bowl of non-kosher soup would work just as well as a kosher one.

Second, if the Torah were considered as such, it would have ramifications, such as the following that are mentioned by Isaac Arami: "We would do well to bear in mind that the dietary laws are not as some have asserted motivated by therapeutic considerations.  G-d forbid!  Were that so, the Torah would be denigreated to the status of a minor medical treatise [own emphasis added]."  And even if it were a medical guide, why is it an incomplete one?  Many observant Jews take the text of the Torah to be complete, with plenty of commentary, to be sure.  So where's the cure for cancer or the common cold?

Although there are some health benefits to eating kosher, at the end of the day, kashrut is not meant to be a guide to healthier eating, much to the dismay of my non-observant Jewish friends.  In my next blog on this topic, I will explore the possibility of kashrut being practiced for nationalistic reasons.