
I first started out in the Jewish environmental movement back in 1981 (I was already an environmentalist of the 70’s variety in high school). Back then the majority of Jewish enviros were ideological vegetarians, the backbone of Jewish Vegetarians of North America (JVNA), people like Richard Schwartz, Jonathan Wolf, and Roberta Kalechofsky. Their zeal for vegetarianism was as strong as any other passion they had for the earth.
Though I empathized with their feelings, they never rang true for me. I’ve been a vegetarian for about 30 years, well more than half my life, and well before I was into Judaism. When people asked me why, I could give a dozen reasons, related to human health, the health of the land, the suffering of animals, etc. But I’ve never been an ideological vegetarian, and I never thought it was my mission to get everyone to stop eating meat.
That’s not to say that I never thought it would be a good idea for more people to “go veg.” Especially now, when we hear about things like what happens on the killing floor at Agriprocessors, vegetarianism looks like the better option.(1) Agriprocessors is not the only great argument for vegetarianism. So is global climate change—a huge percentage of the global warming gases emitted by our civilization come from the two ends of a cow.
But there are other ways to look at these realities. For example, if we don’t want the scandal of Agriprocessors to repeat itself, we need to put an end to mass slaughterhouses. And if we want to limit the methane from cows, we need not only to reduce their numbers, but also to feed them their natural diet of pasture fodder—not grain, and not fast-growing rye grass. Both changes would alter the pattern of meat production in our society radically, but they wouldn’t make us all vegetarians.
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Only rarely does the fault line between Jewish enviros and vegetarianism make itself known. But with last year’s Hazon Food Conference, and the shechting (kosher slaughter) of three goats, battle lines have been drawn. Last year, before the conference, The Jewish Vegetarians of North America issued a press release condemning the slaughter. More recently, an organization called VeggieJews broadcast a circular calling Hazon hypocritical for claiming to be an environmental organization while promoting meat consumption. Even within the conference itself, the debate about this issue was profound and deep.
I said I’ve been a vegetarian for 30 years. That’s only sort of true. I started eating fish on holidays about 20 years ago, then on Shabbat 18 years ago, and then anytime about 16 years out. (Doing so became a health necessity.) In fact, one of the reasons why I gave up fish three decades ago was so that I could stop eating shellfish without feeling being embarrassed about keeping kosher.
Last year at the Hazon Food Conference, a goat who I had seen raised was shechted in the most conscientious way one could ask for kosher slaughter to be done. I’m still not ready to eat meat, but I felt the integrity of the shechitah was high enough that I could eat it. Certainly I felt better about the life and death of that goat than I could ever feel about the fish I eat almost every week. So I decided to eat a tiny bit of him, less than a kezayit (meaning, a piece smaller than the size of an olive, the minimal amount that counts in Jewish law).
As the first meat I’d had in 29 years, it was a little anticlimactic. I wasn’t planning any big changes, and I wasn’t going to eat enough to even feel it in my belly. I simply wanted to stand behind what I hope is a sea change in how Jewish people think about the animals whose lives we use.
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The bottom line is that we do use animals, pervasively, in their lives and in their deaths, not just in this society but also in the earliest incarnations of Biblical religion and every stage in between. Environmentally, herding, along with harvesting of meat and dairy from the herds, is a sustainable way of life. In fact, herding without meat eating, which culls the less important male animals, is ecologically unsustainable. Advocating society-wide vegetarianism without advocating veganism is ecologically incoherent.
In Judaism, the powerful rules we have about how we slaughter animals and prepare their flesh are meant to help us keep the sanctity of animals’ lives before our eyes, even when we use them. One of the most important rules is the prohibition of eating the blood and the requirement to separate the blood from the flesh. The Torah describes this as the way we respect the animal’s soul and life, and the principle of Life itself (ki hadam hu hanefesh), even when we eat meat. The imperative to not eat the blood, combined with the imperative to not cause an animal suffering, is what give us the method of kosher slaughter. (2)
One Jewish way of understanding meat-eating relates the story of Noah to the permission to eat meat after the Flood in this way: Because the animals were all under Noah’s hand and completely dependent on his family for their survival in the ark, their lives remained in his hands when they left the ark. This idea was translated in Jewish practice into restrictions about how we treat domestic animals, and, because their lives are truly not in our hands, the virtual banning of hunting wild animals.
(There’s a different Jewish way of understanding which sees the permission to eat meat in Noah’s time as a kind of harm reduction, which is more consistent with vegetarianism: The passion for violence that was innate in human beings brought on the Flood. After the Flood, people needed a less destructive outlet for this violence, so God gave reluctant permission to kill animals for food. In no case is meat-eating related to the concept of dominion in Genesis 1 – read more about this on neohasid.org.)
Spiritually, it seems fully possible that a person who is raising an animal and bringing it themselves to the butcher would care for the life and the death, for the soul of that animal, in a holy and loving way. Every animal, every person, will die. So would it not be acceptable for the person who raises an animal to give it a “good death” without pain, rather than let its death come in whichever way?
The concept of a “good death” comes directly from the Kabbalist Moshe Cordovero, who made it a part of his programmatic extension of ethics from people to animals.(3) Kabbalists thought that only a true Kabbalist could eat meat, because only a Kabbalist would be able to eat in a way that would elevate the animal’s soul. Since we all die, and every one of us, every animal of every species, takes food from other species and becomes food for other species, there must be a holy way to achieve this for everyone.
The drive towards holiness, which is so essential to every aspect of Judaism, is embodied in the way we kill animals for food. In a world where killing is such a thoughtless outcome of so many of our actions, where the lives of animals are treated with such utter callousness, compassion for animals is something I can feel zealous about.
If you couldn’t eat the animal if you had seen the way it was slaughtered, then you shouldn’t eat it. It’s almost impossible to find animals raised and slaughtered in the way that this level of strictness would require, but it’s not impossible. My bottom line is to tell everyone: demand the highest ethical treatment for the animals you eat and for the animals you don’t eat, and thereby bring holiness into this world.
I don’t think we can force vegetarianism on this world, despite the very high intentions of organizations like JVNA or VeggieJews, but I’m all for forcing holiness, for demanding Spirit or God be present in those actions and rites that dance on the line between life and death. Halevai that every shechting, and every other decision we make about the lives entrusted to our hands, whether animal or, kal v’chomer, human, should be carried out with such reverence and intention as we saw at last year’s Hazon Food Conference.
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Before I finally sign off, I want to add one note of doubt to these reflections. When we sat in plenum the next day, Nigel asked everyone who normally ate meat, but had not eaten from the goats because they saw their slaughter, to raise their hands. A sizable group did. Then he asked everyone who had eaten from the goat stew davka because they had seen the slaughter, even though they don’t normally eat meat, to raise their hands. The group was just a little smaller, but it received almost wild cheers.
There is something joyful about people being able to go past their boundaries, but their was a part of me that worried we were giving people a reason to kvell over their own meat-eating, that the goat-eating vegetarians were affirming for them their membership in the fraternity of carnivores. In the Torah and prophets, eating meat is sometimes treated as a kind of drunkenness. When the lives of creatures are at stake, I am wary of that kind of revelry.
We say in the Yeshivah, may we all merit to partake of the feast when the righteous will eat the flesh of Leviathan. More inclusively, I wish for all of us to partake of the radiance of the Shekhinah, in every act of eating, whatever we eat.
Reb Duvid
David Seidenberg is the creator and webmaster of neohasid.org.
Notes:
1. Agriprocessors, which provided about half the kosher meat in the US, was uncovered by PETA to be employing non-Jewish workers to tear out the esophagus and trachea of the animals that were still standing after being butchered by a shochet. Within the space of a year, Agriprocessors was also raided by the Feds for illegal/undocumented workers. They were found to be employing under-age immigrants, creating coercive work conditions, and generally violating labor laws. These allegations haven’t been presented in a court of law, but I’ve heard testimony about each allegation as it was reported by rabbis visiting the plant and the workers.
2. Shechitah accomplishes both goals (if done properly) by using an extraordinarily sharp knife to cut the carotid arteries, jugular veins and trachea of an animal in one single stroke, thus allowing the blood to flow out of the brain and the heart to continue pumping while instantly rendering the animal unconscious.
3. Mitah Yafah originally referred to a rule in Talmud Sanhedrin for how capital punishment needed to be carried out, based on the principle “Love your neighbor as yourself”! Cordovero, quite radically, applied it to how we kill animals. See neohasid.org for the full passage from Cordovero’s book Tomer Devorah.