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.)

I really appreciate this post. Choice has become the organizing principle of our society, and now we can choose to negotiate our own Judaism.
Something I struggle with, though, is how it wasn’t really my choice to become Jewish. I was born that way. At its core, then, my Judaism is just a fact of nature, something already decided for me. Look, I’m not struggling to figure out my relationship to Islam or Buddhism. Judaism is my religious field for reasons that transcend choice. How would you deal with that?
This is an excellent post. With respect, however, I completely disagree with you. I am a liberal Jew, nominally identifying with the Conservative movement, but not entirely. I agree that on the surface we live in a world in which Jews have choices. No one will cause us trouble in the temporal world if we break shabbes. We are free to live as halachicly as we want, or not. However, don’t you think that you are missing the point of tradition and misunderstanding what freedom is, fundamentally? While freedom in the modern world may be all about “choice”, don’t you think that, as Jews, we have an obligation to think about freedom as it is applied in the modern world, in the old world, and in olam haba-ah? Don’t you think we have an obligation to our forbears to respect the traditions of the past? Because, if we don’t, they will be lost forever. I would argue that the “Sarah” in this article has lost something fundamental. She may have gained freedom in the modern sense, but she has lost her freedom to be a Jew in the company of her ancestors and those to come who view our commandments as something we don’t exactly have a choice to follow (in the modern sense of the word “choice”) but we have an obligation to follow if we value our tradition and our freedom to be a people apart, bringing the light of G-d into the world.
I am not sure who actually penned this entry but I find it a bit disturbing. After attending the food conference and other Hazon events it seems to me that one of their main points is that Jews are different in many great ways and we need to celebrate that difference. I was most disturbed by this- “Biting into that hamburger, she was no longer a “Jew.” God bless her, she’s discovered that she’s just like everyone else.”
The reality is she is still a Jew- just one that chose to eat a non-kosher hamburger. Eating treyf doesn’t take away your Judaism.
I found the posting extraordinarily tragic. “That “Sarah” is no longer a Jew but now a human being. I shudder when I think about the last group who thought the Jew were subhuman. Have we given Hitler yimach sh’mo his posthumous victory after all – seeing ourselves as he saw us. Say it ain’t so!
The sad part is that the “Sarah’s” of the world only see the “don’t”s in Judaism and not the “dos” – don’t eat this, don’t do this, don’t marry this one, etc. It’s a pity she doesn’t experience the richness of a family life with Torah as it’s centerpiece, a tableful of guests each Shabbos and finding a sense of meaning beyond one’s immediate sensory and sensual pleasures (reading too much Hesse in high school does that to you).
Yet such an outlook is the inevitable byproduct of the “do your own thing” mentality. We’ll do the Jewish thing at 9:00 a.m, the Buddha thing at 10:00 am. First it’s “write your own midrash.” Pretty soon it’s write your own Torah! Torah no longer has a rich timeless existence – it becomes a hollow template upon which the flavor du jour is impressed. Tisha B’Av is no longer the time to mourn the temple. Now it’s the time to mourn Darfur and the loss of the rain forest. Not that those things don’t deserve their due – it’s just a matter of perspective.
Ironically, it’s that very same “I can do whatever I want whenever I want” headspace that got this planet into the very crisis that groups like Hazon are trying to remedy. Is this the new paradigm that is emerging? Seems to me pretty much like the same old same old. C’est domage.
I think this is a great post Ben. On the one hand, like anarchist lawyer (and for many of the same reasons), I completely disagree with you.
It’s also very different than my own experience with Jewish tradition (I had the opposite path of being not so observant, and then finding a lot of meaning in a tradition I grew up barely knowing), and therefore hard for me to truly understand what “Sarah” went through.
But I really appreciate her story. In time, she may realize that she went further on the “non-observant” side than she wants, and recalibrate a bit. Perhaps, once she has time to breathe, she’ll discover the many “yes-es” in Jewish tradition that Rabbi Shmuel alludes to and that Hazon works to bring out in the Jewish community. But I applaud her for not continuing to live within a spiritual paradigm that doesn’t speak to her, and wish her much success and luck in finding something that does.
If it doesn’t speak to you, find a new entry point and try it again. The fact is, we are Jews, and we ARE different, Thank G-d. Keeping kosher is supposed to separate us, because we are a holy nation. Each time I schlep along a cheese sandwich to a conference when everyone else is eating a gourmet, free lunch, I am saying that I am above raw desire. I have self-control and don’t give in to my physical desire to eat what everyone else is eating just because it is delicious and convenient. I’ll take my reward in olam-haba and not in the next five minutes.
I am so sad that people think it’s all about “choice” the way you have defined it. It IS all about choice - the choice the live as G-d intended, as a holy people and above the influence of carnal desire. If everyone Jewish subscribed to this philosophy, I can guarantee there won’t be any Jews left in 50 years - our own people can finish what Hitler started…
I am having a bit of a hard time with these responses. Many people are objecting to the idea of “choice” with a modern sensibility. I would argue that choice is perhaps not the best word to use in this circumstance. Is it not a basic tenet of Judaism to question and grapple with the commandments in the Torah? Perhaps she will later move a bit further back into the realm of what we are calling Judaism, but I would argue she is living out a basic principle of Jewish identity. As someone who often grapples with the teachings of our tradition, I find value in that.