In all honestly, I’m not completely sure I’ve fully digested the goat schecting enough to talk coherently about it, but here’s a first attempt.
About 70 people gathered at 7:00am, bleary-eyed and shivering (this time, because of the cold), to catch one of the shuttles down to the sadeh (Adamah’s field) a mile away from Isabella Freedman. Once there, everyone huddled into small groups, wiggling their frozen toes and talking about the goat.
The shochet –dressed in shirtsleeves and a furry hat – prepared his knife. Meanwhile, the mashgiach explained the process and answered participants’ questions, stopping to check that the knife was sharp enough by running it lightly along his fingernail.
The first goat was led out. My stomach tightened as I watched him nibble the frosty grass, calm and unaware. After a few moments, the goat was gently flipped upside down and held in place. The shochet bent down.
“Listen to the bracha and say amen,” the Mashgiach said.
Then time slowed down and sped up simultaneously – actually, for a second there it barely existed. Nothing else mattered except that moment. It was gruesome and terrifying – the tears streaming down my face were a testament to that – but it was also holy.
I began to wonder at what point during the process did the beautiful goat transform into “meat?” Was it immediately following the cut? Was it when the goat was hung up on the rafters of the Adamah shed? Was it when it was skinned and butchered, or served on Friday night? I still don’t know. What I do know is that at no point during the process did I question whether this animal was being treated with respect. Everyone present and involved clearly had nothing but respect, love, and gratitude for this animal – I know that sounds hokey, but it was true. And this respect carried through until Friday night when the platter of “fresh, pasture-raised, local roasted goat was carved and served.
So, did I eat the goat? Yes – along with several other vegetarians who attended the schecting, I tried a bite of the goat, which had been rubbed with cumin, stuffed with garlic, and roasted. It was only the second time I’d purposefully eaten meat in the last 8 years (the first was a month ago when I had the opportunity to eat a rooster schected in a similar way by my friends at Adamah). I’m still a vegetarian – very much so. But I feel like I’ve seen a glimpse of what the future of Jewish meat eating could look like – a way that calls God into the process.