Conversation around the dinner table on Shabbat turned to the topic of kashrut. Why is it so expensive? (in Vancouver, a 14lb turkey goes for $75) Why does it cause Jews to be so rude to other Jews, whose kashrut standards don’t match their own? Why does it matter if I wait four hours or seven – and says who?
I did not grow up keeping kosher, and although I’ve lived in de facto kosher kitchens for the past 4 years (my roommate’s dishes were dairy, but I was mostly a vegetarian so it didn’t really matter), it’s only recently that I’ve begun toying with the idea of taking on this particular yoke of heaven. But I found that all of the reasons I would give for why I might chose to keep kosher had nothing to answer all these tachlis questions.
I like the notion that there are things beyond my control. I accept that kashrut is arbitrary – this is not a health code, and to rationalize it as such takes away its power. When there are rules that are bigger than me, rules that I don’t fully comprehend – I’m reminded that the world is a lot bigger and beyond comprehension than my rational mind might want to believe, and I am humbled. I also feel that I’m let off the hook. I’m not responsible for everything. There are systems and worlds and rules that are beyond my control. It sort of feels like ‘giving up’ to say so – though what you get in return is a feeling of comfort, of being held by something larger and older and wiser than yourself.
I also like the idea of keeping meat and milk separate – which in effect ends up meaning that when you eat meat, you do it differently than when you eat everything else. And I think that’s important. Eating meat is a big deal. Eating animals is a big deal. Killing something that was alive so you can eat it (that’s what meat-eating is, though we would rarely describe it as such) is a big deal. Switching dishes, thinking about what you serve with it, thinking about how it will affect your day in terms of how long you will be ‘fleish’ (whether you wait 5 minutes or 4 hours) all serve to remind you of the fact that eating meat is taking a life, and you sure better not take it for granted, or do it automatically without thinking.
But then there are all these questions: questions about the rules that don’t make sense, the monopoly of the kosher butchers, the expense of having extra kitchen utensils, the complicated range of emotions faced by would-be hosts, or guests, when faced with eating in a home that doesn’t match your standards (Jewish or not). And there’s the question about who decides, who makes the rules. My dad was bringing up the question of eco-kashrut, and wondering when Jewish institutions would adopt ethical and environmental standards as part of the standard definition of kashrut. Some are – the Tzedek Hechser in particular. But I got to thinking: I don’t strongly identify with any particular “movement” of Judaism – I did go to the Jewish Theological Seminary, which is a Conservative institution, but I define myself as Jewish, period, and that links me to a much broader group. Who is my rebbe? Whose rulings do I follow? When I can look up the kitzur shulchan aruch online, and have access to any number of other Jewish books and codes – couldn’t I make my own rulings? Does that make me “less Jewish”?
So while I’m learning about and embracing the potential that Jewish laws such as kashrut have to bring structure and meaning to my life, there are so many Jews who are turned off by the irrationalness, the specifics, the other Jews who are more strict, or less strict than they are, etc. I want to climb up on the table and say this is not the point! I’m finding that these rules are a way back to a pre-modern way of being in the world that offers us opportunities to express gratitude, awe, humility and connectedness with the earth and with each other. When I think about all the things I’d like to fix about the world, the fact that we’ve got a system right here that can address so many of those issues all at once seems quite revolutionary. As my friend Shamu called it: radical simplicity.
But what about all the bureaucracy? So – either I’m distorting Judaism to serve my own ecologist ends, or a heck of a lot of people are hugely missing the point, and the potential, of what kashrut has to offer.