LEV118 (Continued from [[GEN1543]] Genesis 43:32 abhorrent SACTAB 439-440). Biblical law identifies the purpose of kashrut with k’dushah (holiness). As we find at the end of the list of animals that are permitted and prohibited, “You shall sanctify yourself and be holy” (Leviticus 11:44). These eating practices identified those who observed them as belonging to the covenant community that had set itself apart from other communities to serve God. Kashrut’s goal, k’dushah (holiness) is to connect the Jew to God, to primary values, and to the Jewish people, but it is also to make the Jew distinct from his/her neighbors. While this is still the standard rationale for observing kashrut, it was not always a sufficient reason for all thinkers. For example, Maimonides, in Guide of the Perplexed (3:48), suggests that the main reason for kashrut is healthy eating. Modern Jews are still trying to shake the misconception that abstaining from pork is solely to avoid trichinosis. The concept of k’dushah as separation is most clear with respect to Rabbinic kashrut, with its elaborate regulations such as separate meat and dairy dishes and utensils, requiring that foods be certified as kasher by competent authorities, and even requiring the inspection of lettuce to ensure that there are no insects that might be consumed. However, the simple decision of keeping biblically kosher--that is, refraining from pork and/or shellfish, and/or not mixing meat and dairy--makes those who deserve biblical kashrut constantly aware of their identity as Jews and allows those with whom they dine to identify them as Jews. Many liberal Jews find this a satisfying approach to kashrut. Today, and ever-expanding range of culinary identities are being mixed with Jewish ritual law. For example, kashrut may be blended with a vegetarian or vegan diet. This hybrid diet is often observed for reasons of health, as well as Jewish ethics. These practices require greater explanation both for the one who observes and for the outside world. Yet, they are, in fact, fertile soil for creative interpretation of traditional texts and values. As discussed in depth in other chapters in this book, if one wants to emphasize the essential harmony of nature, as exemplified in the story of Creation, vegetarian and vegan diets can be powerful examples of Jewish dietary discipline. In addition, the argument can be made that the vegetable protein that is needed to produce animal protein could best be used to feed more of the world's hungry people. This motivation for vegetarian/vegan kashrut deepens one's identity with social justice issues. Interestingly enough, it is easier for the vegetarian and vegan to make their homes open to more halachically observant Jews. In some ways, the broader food identity can create a greater connection to traditional Jews. The kosher vegetarian or vegan is one of many blended food identities in the Jewish world. Informed by secular dietary and Jewish ethical concerns, as well as by Jewish tradition, many Jews combine kashrut with other values such as concern for the environment, workers’ rights, animal rights, or health. While these, too, requires some conscious explanation, these approaches have the potential for combining both the Jewish universalistic value of concern for all creation with the particularistic value of the special role of the Jewish people of being a “light into the nations.” (By Peter Knobel, “WHAT I EAT IS WHO I AM: Kashrut and Identity”)

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LEV119 Kashrut has been a basic part of Judaism for too long to be ignored; its role in the life of the Jew and in Jewish history ought not to be underestimated. The home in Jewish tradition is the mikdash m’at (small sanctuary) and the table is the mizbei-ach (altar); it is reasonable, therefore, to ask the Reform Jew to study and consider kashrut so as to develop a valid personal position. Judaism has always recognized a religious dimension to the consumption of food. Being a gift of God, food was never to be taken for granted. And if this was true of food generally, it was especially true of meat, fish, and fowl, which involved the taking of life. And so it is not surprising to find literally scores of passages in the Torah and the later Rabbinic literature specifying which foods are permitted, which forbidden, and how they are be prepared. Kashrut-- generally translated as “the dietary laws”-- involves a whole series of food disciplines that range from the avoidance of pork and shellfish to the eating of matzah on Pesach. (It should be noted that there is a wide gamut of Jewish dietary observance that is unrelated to kashrut, from the major prohibition against eating on Yom Kippur to such minor customs as eating blintzes on Shavuot, hamantaschen on Purim, and latkes on Channukah.) Jewish tradition considered kashrut to be an especially important part of the code that set Israel apart as a “holy people.” Maimonides viewed kashrut as a discipline. “It accustoms us to restrain both the growth of desire and the disposition to consider the pleasure of eating and drinking as the end of man's existence.” For many centuries it was kashrut which most conspicuously separated the Jew from the Diaspora society in which he/she lived.... The basic features of the traditional dietary laws are: (1) all fruits and vegetables are permitted and may be eaten with either dairy or meat dishes; (2) any type of fish that has fins and scales is permitted; (3) domestic fowl are permitted but birds of prey are prohibited; (4) all domestic animals which have both a split hoof and chew their cud are permitted; (5) meat and milk may not be eaten together, and the utensils used to prepare and serve meat or milk foods must be kept separate; and (6) fowl and animals which are permitted must be slaughtered and prepared for eating according to ritual law. In attempting to evolve a personal position on kashrut, the Reform Jew or the Reform Jewish family should understand that there are several options, e.g., abstention from pork products and/or shellfish, or perhaps adding to this abstention the separation of milk and meat; these practices might be observed in the home and not when eating out, or they might be observed all the time. Or one might opt to eat only kosher meat or even to adopt some form of vegetarianism so as to avoid the necessity of taking a life. (This would be in consonance with their principle of tzaar baalei chayim-- prevention of pain or cruelty to animals.) The range of options available to the Reform Jew is from full observance of the biblical and Rabbinic regulations to total nonobservance. Reform Judaism does not take an “all or nothing” approach. In the Torah (this verse and Deuteronomy 14:21) the Jewish people is commanded to observe the dietary laws as a means of making it kadosh-- holy. Holiness has the dual sense of inner hallowing and outer separateness. The idea of sanctifying and imposing discipline on the most basic and unavoidable act of human behavior, eating, is one of the reasons that may lead a person to adopt some form of kashrut. Among the other reasons that one may find compelling are: (1) identification and solidarity with the worldwide Jewish community, (2) the ethical discipline of avoiding certain foods or limiting one’s appetite because of the growing scarcity of food in parts of the world, (3) the avoidance of certain foods that are traditionally obnoxious to Jews, e.g., pork, which may provide a sense of identification with past generations and their struggle to remain Jews, (4) the authority of ancient biblical and Rabbinic injunctions, and (5) the desire to have a home in which any Jew might feel free to eat. One or more of these reasons as well as others might influence certain Reform Jews to adopt some of the dietary regulations as a mitzvah, while others may remain satisfied with the position articulated in the Pittsburgh Platform. However, the fact that kashrut was for so many centuries an essential part of Judaism, and that so many Jews gave their lives for it, should move Reform Jews to study it and to consider carefully whether or not it would add k’dushah (holiness) to their homes and their lives. (By Simeon J. Maslin, ED. “KASHRUT: A Reform Point of View”)

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LEV179 Yom Kippur is the preeminent Jewish fast, and the only one indicated in the Torah. Leviticus 16: 29 states, “In the seventh month, on the tenth day of the month, you shall practice self-denial.” Throughout the ages, scholars, interpreters and the Jewish people have considered “self-denial” to mean abstaining from food and water, in part because of its use with the more widely used root tzadi-vav-mem in Psalm 35:13 and Isaiah 58:3-5. Both terms, which appear throughout the Tanach, refer to both communal and individual expressions of petition and penance. A communal fast has great power to both create and sustain community. Just as sharing food is an essential tool for bringing people together, a sense of shared intention in eschewing food can forge connections between people. Eating together brings individuals to a shared table, and once together, not only food, but also ideas are shared. This dynamic is enhanced and extended in a communal fast. When individuals commit themselves to a shared fast, there are three clear opportunities for connection: gathering for a shared meal to prepare for the fast, gathering for mutual support and perhaps commiseration during the course of the fast, and coming together once again to conclude or break the fast. Yom Kippur offers an excellent and the most familiar example of communal fasting. Most who fast gather with others for a meal that precedes the Kol Nidrei prayers, and many who fast find community in synagogue, where the fast is mentioned in the liturgy and is often referenced in non-liturgical comments, messages, d’rashot, or sermons. Yom Kippur also affords a unique opportunity for worshippers to stay for extended hours in synagogue and a distance themselves from socializing and from food. Finally, the break fast is an essential aspect of any fast, whether communal or individual. The fact that many synagogues hold communal break fasts, offering either small or substantial meals, or arrange for congregants to gather in one another's homes reflects the importance of ritualizing not only the beginning but also the conclusion of this major fast in the Jewish year. The Yom Kippur fast has been the most consistently observed throughout Jewish history by observant and nonobservant Jews alike, in part because it provides an opportunity for individuals to claim connection with tradition and community by engaging in a powerful yet time bound spiritual act. (By Sue Levi Elwell, "Tzom: Fasting as a Religiolus/Spiritual Practice")

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LEV196 ... we need to remember that, for our Rabbis, religious eating was not solely a matter of prohibiting the consumption of certain foods and food combinations. Moving beyond the biblical text, our Sages addressed not only what Jews ate, but how they ate as well. To begin with, their system of kashrut included a method for slaughtering those animals deemed fit to eat. [Derived in part from the priestly sacrificial descriptions, the rules of proper slaughter and “fit” slaughterers are enumerated in Babylonian Talmud, Chulin 9a.] If our Rabbis were unable to formulate a unifying rationale for prohibiting certain foods, they were far more successful in deriving principles of slaughtering that have stood the test of both time and logic. By intertwining the biblical precept that prohibits eating “the blood of any kind of flesh” [Leviticus 17:14. See also Lev. 3:17, 7:26, 19:26; Deut. 12:16.; I Sam. 14:34; Ezek. 33:25, 39:17ff. It should be noted that the context in Leviticus 17 (as well as in Deuteronomy 15) makes specific provision for pouring the blood out on the ground. Most interestingly, Genesis 9:4 also relates this legal precept to Noah and his sons; intrinsically, it seems as if the laws respecting life-blood were attended to hold for all humanity (as R. Chanania b. Gamliel intuits in Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 59a)] with the verse that associates blood with life's essence, our Sages discover a religious principle behind the laws of proper slaughter [on the appositive association of “life” and “blood,” see the interpretation of Gen. 9:4 offered by R. Chanania b. Gamliel in Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 59a)]. They teach that out of respect for all the sacred life that God has created, we must ritually recall that divine creation prior to taking advantage of it for our own gustatory purposes. While we might be entitled to slaughter an animal in order to satiate our own hunger, our religion reminds us that we nonetheless need to remember our secondary role in the transcendent order of the universe; by returning to God the blood representing the divine life that inhabits all, we remember God's primacy in the order of our universe. (By Seth M. Limmer, “ON KASHRUT.)

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LEV283 See [[LEV112]] Leviticus 11:3 eat SACTAB 69-71

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LEV275 Finally, how about the argument that “so few Reform Jews keep kosher--why should the Movement even pay attention to it? My very unscientific research has led me to doubt this old assumption. Yes, if you ask most Reform Jews, “Do you keep kosher?” they will reply in the negative. But if you ask them, “Do you eat pork?” a surprising number will say, “no.” If you ask them, “Do you eat shrimp or oysters?” a smaller number, but still a number, will also say, “no.” If you ask them, “Do you mix meat and milk?” some others will shake their heads as well. Our assumption that few Reform Jews keep kosher has been based on an all-or-nothing proposition. A survey of several hundred respondents among the regional URJ leaders attending the 2005 Biennial in Houston confirmed my feeling that there are many Reform Jews who keep some form of kashrut (see chapter 8). Is it legitimate to keep only some aspects of kashrut? Of course it is. Kashrut comprises a number of discrete mitzvot, and we may feel called by some of them but not necessarily by all of them. If we are to include oshek and tzaar baalei chayim in our definition, there are non-Reform Jews who according to our standards will also not keep all the mitzvot of kashrut. Such a situation would be a reminder that, for all Jews, kashrut is, as my erstwhile Hillel colleague Rabbi David Berner taught me, a continuum, on which a large number of Jews find themselves and on which many religious decisions remain before one takes all of the steps. It is a reminder, too, that Leviticus 19:2, K’doshim tihyu, “You shall become holy,” is a lifelong process. In the unique context of our own time, kashruth can be a “natural” for Reform Jews. It nurtures our yearning to deepen our spiritual lives; it responds to our classic imperatives for social justice; it brings us into closer contact with our godly role as guardians of Creation; it opens new opportunities to mingle with today's diverse population of Jews and non-Jews; it offers a variety of disciplines that can keep us from sliding into the maw of North American materialism. Freed from the restrictive bonds of the past, Reform Jews have remarkable opportunity to let kashrut flourish once again as a way to strengthen the nurturing bonds of the covenant between the Jewish people and the Creator of all life. (By Richard N. Levy, “KASHRUT: A New Freedom for Reform Jews”)

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LEV354 (Continued from [[LEV112]] Leviticus 11:40 carcass SACTAB 69-71). We learn in the third chapter of Leviticus about the zevach sh’lamim, the “whole offering, which, Baruch Levine notes in The JPS Torah Commentary, is described in 1 Samuel 9 as a meal shared by priests and laypeople. This is the origin of the idea that every meal is like a sacrifice to God, a korban, a word stemming from the Hebrew kareiv, that which brings us near to God. With the Temple destroyed, our table has become the altar, and the food we consume on it should assist our march to holiness. What we would not offer on the Temple altar, the Torah tells us, we should not offer on our dining room table. Confronting the mitzvot of eating, Reform Jews cannot be content to look only at the mitzvot considered part of dietary practice in the past. We need to look at all the things that Torah says about eating. Reform Judaism has long held that new times reveal new aspects of God's will--the Pittsburgh Principles defined Torah as “God's ongoing revelation to our people and the record of our people's ongoing relationship with God.” If tzaar baalei chayim--compassion toward animals, is a value--is indeed, one of the seven mitzvot commanded to all human beings (See B’reishit Rabbah 16:6)--we need to investigate the methods by which animals are slaughtered and be assured that our meat comes from the most humane possible practices of slaughter. When we know that some animals are fed and penned in destructive ways, like geese for pate de foie gras and calves for veal, we should deal with them the same way that Torah deals with pork and shellfish. When the Torah prohibits us from participating in oshek, the oppression of laborers (Leviticus 19:13), I believe it means we need to refrain from eating the foods produced by oppressive labor--like fruits or vegetables sold under labels of growers who refuse to offer their workers minimum wage and decent conditions in the fields and factories, and who insist upon spraying their products with pesticides that harm workers and consumers. The value of bal tashchit, the avoidance of practices destructive of nature (based on Deuteronomy 20:19-20), should lead us to build aspects of conservation into our observance as well. (By Richard N. Levy, “KASHRUT: A New Freedom for Reform Jews”)

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LEV356 The study of oshek gives the contemporary Reform Jew a way of looking at the nexus of ritual practice and social justice in sanctification of our daily meals. Oshek, the oppressor of a laborer, is forbidden by the Torah (Leviticus 19:13-14). It is a transgression against God as well as against the exploited worker (Leviticus 19:11-13). Oshek is first prohibited in the “Holiness Code” in Leviticus 19:13: Lo taashok et rei-acha, “Do not oppress your neighbor. Do not withhold that which is due your neighbor and do not rob him. The wages earned by a day laborer shall not remain overnight with you until the morning.” It occurs again in Deuteronomy 24:14-15: [these verses]. Writing in eleventh-century France, Rashi interpreted this text prohibiting oshek to apply particularly to a farm worker. V’eilav hu noseh et nafsho, “It is the farm worker who risks his nefesh, his life, climbing up a ladder or hanging from a tree to do his work.” (Pentateuch with Rashi Commentary, 119). The classic sacred sources of Judaism call on us to actively oppose the oppression or exploitation of the farm worker who frequently toils under dangerous conditions. (Ibid.) What then is the relationship between Jewish dietary ritual and the prohibition of oshek? The prophet Isaiah preached that exploitation of the laborer actually nullifies the value of a dietary ritual observance (Isaiah 57:14-58:14). In these passages, Isaiah proclaimed that God is unresponsive to the ritual piety of fasting while the laborer is oppressed. Instead, God desires a fast comprised of breaking every yoke, sharing one’s bread with the hungry, housing the homeless, and clothing the naked. This view became so essential to Judaism that Isaiah’s words became the haftorah portion for the Day of Atonement. it provides the linkage every Yom Kippur between filling the dietary ritual of fasting and the ethical responsibilities of social justice. Isaiah’s ancient words describe the social justice goals we help fulfill when we become part of the contemporary farm workers’ movement. (National Farm Workers Ministry website: www.nfwm.org). (By Richard Litvak, “OSHEK: The Meeting Point of Ritual Piety and Human Moral Purity in a Contemporary Reform Kashrut”)

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LEV741 See [[EXOD892]] Exodus 23:19 boil SACTAB 57-9

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LEV743 See [[GEN163]] Genesis 1:28 rule SACTAB 183-4

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