Throw it all off. Flee the restrictions. Leave it all behind — bacon is tasty. Or so says the pseudonym “Sarah” in Time Out New York‘s article No religion, who purports to be an Orthodox-raised day school teacher in Manhattan.
So one Saturday morning, I went to the Botanical Gardens with my sister who doesn’t keep Shabbes. It was a beautiful day in May. And I remember thinking, Wow, Saturday is another whole day! You don’t only have to go to shul or sleep late and stay at home—you can do other stuff! And that was a huge epiphany. I went to California that summer. And that summer, I had a nonkosher steak taco on the side of the highway.
That was different—I was very nervous, and I ordered very nervously. And I sat at this picnic table on the side of the highway, and the guy to my right was eating a steak taco, and the guy to my left was eating the same thing, and I thought, I am a person. I am a regular human being. I am no longer a “Jew.” And it was so liberating.
This is a beautiful moment for “Sarah.” She’s discovering that religion is voluntary. It’s an option. It should be, really, an inspiration. Kashrut in particular does very little benefit for us — it’s not healthier and it frequently divides us from each other. It’s all for spiritual purposes, let us not pretend otherwise. And that which does not contribute to our lives spiritually, is not obligated upon us.
My personal approaches to halakha begin and end with the premise that the totality of Jewish tradition is not incumbent on any of us. It’s up to the individual to chose the terms of their contract. Our deal with the Old Man Upstairs is opt-in and opt-out. Especially in an age when Old Testament “do this or else” theology is quite dead, we can opt out without fear of divine wrath. No lightning bolts will fall from the sky. And conversely opting-in does not guarantee a life of pleasure and meaning. If there is no such thing as divine punishment or reward, what is to lead us to believe that there is a “correct” and “incorrect” way to live halakhically?
The kashrut we do should be adopted when they contribute to our spiritual life, when they assist our communion with each other or the Divine. When I eat a hamburger, knowing that there’s no cheese or bacon in it, I should smile (for reasons that are wholly mine and mine alone) because acting upon my choice is a moment of self-actualization. The spiritual moment is a moment of action, of choice, of free choice most importantly. To eat a kosher meal when I’ve not gone out of my way to make it kosher — if it’s too easy — is not a holy moment. I’ve not sanctified (separated) anything. I’ve just done the usual. I argue that halakha is something that is only meaningful in the presence of the unkosher: The act of chosing only kosher foods while shopping, in the midst of temptation, is holy. To eat in my own kitchen where everything is already kosher, is not automatically holy.
The most touching moment of “Sarah’s” story was her discovery that she’s a normal person. Biting into that hamburger, she was no longer a “Jew.” God bless her, she’s discovered that she’s just like everyone else. Her choices hopefully from here on out will be voluntary, unlike her previous observance, which could be argued resulted from communal programming and coercion since childhood. This is not to say that if you’ve been observant since childhood, it has meant nothing spiritually. But neither does it grant that anyone yotzei points automatically. Holiness-in-choice simply means the most un-observant Jew can produce a moment of sublime holiness with a single food choice (intentionally leaving the cheese off a favorite cheeseburger) which puts to shame a lifetime of rote but ultra-orthodox adherence.
I don’t know Sarah, but she’s likely only (or less than) one degree of separation away. But even if Sarah has unplugged from Jewish tradition completely, this is hardly a tragedy. God-willing, she will make spiritual choices following another path which fulfills her better than Judaism could. Jewish tradition makes no claims to exclusivity — there will be no lightning bolts for learning yoga, joining a church, or even (oy) picking up a book on Dianetics. Even still, Judaism has not historically been an opt-in faith. Now it is. Jews of choice we should all be, in however we see fit to define ourselves.
Kashrut happens to be an incredibly powerful framework through which to make food a holy act. But only when it’s an active choice. We should be free to approach it experimentally, tentatively, and even skeptically. A great many Jews need to eat their first cheeseburger. And most others need to eat a week certified 100% by hechshers. “Don’t knock it till you try it” is not the ethic of this post. But an acknowledgment that spirituality requires risks, that struggle is the translation of “Israel,” and that we should all feel free to renegotiate our individual terms of service with the Old Man Upstairs, is.
(X-posted to Judaism Without Borders.)