LEV893 Kashrut: To Identify with the Feelings of Animals and Inspire Hesitation about Eating Meat. Rav Kook teaches with great passion that the rules of kashrut should inspire in us a sort of guilt about eating meat. Before the Great Flood, humanity is vegetarian. Permission to eat meat is understood by our tradition to be a sort of concession to our violent appetites, which become all too evident by the time of Noah. “The commandments came to regulate the eating of meat, and steps that will take us to the higher purpose.... These actions will bear fruit and ultimately educate mankind. The mute protest will, when the time is ripe, be transformed into a mighty shout and succeed in its aim. The very nature of the principles of ritual slaughter, with their specific rules and regulations designed to reduce pain, create the atmosphere that you are not dealing with things outside the law, that they are not automatons devoid of life, but living beings. (Abraham Isaac Kook, “Fragments of Light: A View as to the Reasons for the Commandments” 318-9). The concept is not new: Rambam, two, speaks of tzaar baalei chayim, understanding the pain of all living creatures. We are instructed not to slaughter an animal and its young on the same day (Leviticus 22:28), “for in these cases animals feel very great pain, there being no difference regarding this pain between man and the other animals. For the love and the tenderness of a mother for her child is not consequent of one reason, but upon the activity of the imaginative faculty, which is found in most animals just as it is found in man.” Maimonides, Guide 3:48. Ibn Ezra argues that this prohibition, along with a warning not to take a mother bird and her eggs, teach sensitivity to life. Although he insists that their complete reasons for kashrut are concealed, it is clear that boiling a kid in its mother's milk would be cruel. (Exodus 23:19, Deut. 22:6). Sensitivity, it seems, comes in several gradations. While the vegetarian movement continues apace, Rav Kook describes that practice as messianic, to be achieved after we have mastered more basic objectives, such as world peace. Torah offers a gradualness for those whose carnivorous drives cannot be fully subdued. Kook folklore tells us that the Rav himself ate meat once a week, chicken on Erev Shabbat, as a sign that we had not yet arrived. On route, however, there are choices we can make that extend our sensitivity to animal life: we can refuse to eat veal--baby calves with their feet chained to the side of a stall their entire lives so they will not stand up or wander around and spoil that tender flesh. We can buy nest eggs, so the chickens do not have to live their lives in tiny cages just so we can have scrambled eggs in the morning. We can seek out milk from cows that have not been given growth hormones, which cause increased infection and discomfort for the animals. Traditional kashrut certainly limits the amount of meat we consume, since we do not eat meat “out” except in kosher restaurants. The separation of meat and milk can prompt us to be conscious of the sources of our food, and the price paid to bring it to our table. Contemporary expansion of the principles would further advance our appreciation of tzaar baalei chayim. (By Rachel S. Mikva, “Adventures in Eating: An Emerging Model for Kashrut”)

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DEUT364 See [[DEUT375]] Deuteronomy 8:10 thanks SACTAB 422-3

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DEUT375 While it is true that most Reform Jews do not recite blessings after they eat everyday meals, there is a growing awareness in Reform circles that its recitation serves as an authentic form of Jewish expression of gratitude. We find in the Torah the following words: “When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Eternal your God for the good land given to you” (Deuteronomy 8:10). This passage serves as the proof text for Birkat HaMazon, the first of all blessings regarding eating and food. It reflects the historical relationship between God and the Jews. When we complete our meal, we are to remind ourselves that the food we have eaten is a gift to us from God, just as the manna in the desert was a gift to us from God that sustained us during our wandering years. The recitation of the Birkat serves as a form of Thanksgiving. If one reads the preceding verses in the same chapter of Deuteronomy, it becomes clear that reciting Birkat is a form of thanksgiving for the fulfillment of a covenant between God and our ancestors; The covenant through which God gave us the Land of Israel, manna to sustain us in the desert, food from the land, provided us with all of our needs, and more. In reciting the Birkat, our words served as a form of fulfillment of our part of the charge outlined in Deuteronomy, “to faithfully observe all the Instruction” (Deuteronomy 8:1) that God has enjoined upon us. There is another important reason for reciting the Birkat. The Mishnah informs us that “three who have eaten are to recite the Birkat HaMazon” (Mishnah B’rachot 7:1). Why should this be so important to the Rabbis? The eating of food is a reflection of our own human character. When we eat alone, we eat for survival. The only thing that matters is satisfying our individual need. Yet, eating in community transforms the physical act into a social, spiritual, and/or religious expression. For the Rabbis, eating in community served as an act of humility. When we eat together, we take care of one another and we nurture each other. For example, over a meal, we often ask about each other’s welfare. Eating and community should be seen not as a “right” or entitlement of being human, but rather as a privilege and honor, for doing so means sharing “in community” with our fellow beings and with the Divine. So often in America today, people eat alone, in cars, or in fast-food restaurants. Americans are deeply influenced by the consumerism of our times, and our eating habits have become a reflection of our isolation from one another and of our connection to things. Our tradition stands in contrast to such behavior, and Birkat HaMazon recognizes that eating together is important, because gathering over food represents living in community all the time. (By Bennett F. Miller, “THE JOY AND PRIVILEGE OF BLESSINGS BEFORE AND AFTER A MEAL”)

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DEUT676 See [[LEV112]] Leviticus 11:3 eat SACTAB 69-71

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DEUT677 See [[LEV119]] Leviticus 11:44 holy SACTAB 49-52

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DEUT681 See [[GEN666]] Genesis 9:3 eat SACTAB 273-4

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DEUT747 Our modern industrial food system, centered around policies like the Farm Bill, succeeds tremendously at producing corn and soy, the basic sources of much of our caloric intake, cheaply and efficiently. The evolution of the Farm Bill to its modern incarnation as an omnibus policy propping up cheap food makes sense in light of its origins--a time when supporting small farmers and growing their food supply were of vital national importance. Today our nation produces mass quantities of food--enough to feed everyone in the United States with plenty to spare—on limited land. … The importance of a stable and abundant food supply should not be overlooked or understated. After all, ensuring that everyone has enough food to eat as a Jewish value exhorted in the Torah and supported in the midrash: “When you are asked in the world-to-come, ‘What was your work?’ and you answer, ‘I fed the hungry,’ you will be told, ‘This is the gate of the Lord, enter into it, you who have fed the hungry’” (Midrash T’hillim 118:17). With government support for efficient production of cheap food, we can feed people not only in our country, but also around the world. This policy speaks clearly to food as a basic human right, no person should go hungry, and when there are people in need, we are obligated to help. In Deuteronomy 15:7-11 we are clearly commanded that when there is a poor person among us, we must not turn away, but rather we must provide as much help as is needed.... If the goal is to provide affordable and abundant sustenance efficiently, then the Farm Bill is a case study in successful public policy. … However, our food system and the policies that shape it have come under an enormous amount of criticism in recent years from the environmental, economic justice, and International Development communities. Under Farm Bill policies, our nation's agricultural system produces more food (mostly corn) than ever before, but it is becoming increasingly clear that this system has a wide variety of adverse and unintended consequences. The challenges of our modern food system is maintaining this unprecedented level of productivity without destroying our environment and causing a vast array of other unintended consequences for global health and hunger. As Michael Pollan explains in reference to our current federal food policy, “This focus on quantity may have made sense in a time of food scarcity, but today it gives us a school-lunch program that feeds chicken nuggets and Tater Tots to overweight and diabetic children.” The negative impact on health goes hand in hand with the unprecedented energy consumption associated with global food distribution, the greenhouse gases spewing from factory farms, and the negative impact on farmers in the developing world. Having enough food for all--and ensuring that those most in need have access to the most essential resource for survival--is an important, and deeply Jewish, goal. However we also value environmental stewardship and sustainability and can see that, among other negative effects, our industrial agricultural system despoils our environment and degrades our land so that the future food growth may be inhibited. The earliest verses of Genesis include the clear exhortation “to work [the earth] and to keep it” (Genesis 2:15), not just to use our resources to bring forth what we need--namely, food--but to be thoughtful guardians of our planet for current and future generations. (By Michael Namath and Rachel Cohen, “RAISING OUR VOICES FOR FOOD JUSTICE”)

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DEUT1005 “When the Holy Blessed One created the first human, God took Adam and led him around all the trees of the Garden of Eden. And God said to Adam, ‘See My works, how good and praiseworthy they are! And all I have created, I made for you. [But,] be mindful then that you do not spoil and destroy My world. For if you spoil it, there is no one after you to repair it.’” (Kohelet Rabbah 7:13). The message embedded in this midrash acknowledges and praises God as the creator of the earth and then charges the human race with the task of using our planet's precious resources wisely. [Modern Jewish environmental teachings use the term shomrei adamah, “guardians of the earth,” to emphasize our responsibility as the earth's caretakers. This phrase comes from the Hebrew in Genesis 2:15 in which God commands human beings to “work [l’ovdah]” the earth and “keep [ul’shomrah]” the earth.] The last line in this text is a forewarning: we must be responsible caretakers of the planet's resources, to use only what is necessary, and to be conscious of the negative impact that human beings can have on the ecosystems of the earth if we are not careful. God reminds Adam, the first human, that there is only one world to provide for the needs of human beings, plants, and animals. Then, God leaves the fate of the world in our hands. Throughout history, human beings have depended on balance in the natural world: everything necessary for survival comes from the earth. Food, raw materials for clothing and shelter, and energy sources are all grown on and extracted from the land. Our ancestors knew that they had to treat the earth with care, lest they go without these necessities of life, putting into question their own fate. For the past few hundred years, though, this wisdom in this midrash has been overshadowed by the human tendency to accumulate more than what is necessary for survival. Beginning with the Industrial Revolution, our society has been able to produce and distribute more food and goods at a lower cost than ever before. We have been trained to eat things and buy things without thinking about the resources needed to produce and ship them all over the world, without thought of the human labor required to grow and harvest food and assemble products. It is time to return to the wisdom of our ancient texts and traditions; time to examine our patterns of consumption and disposal of food, energy, and material goods; time to cultivate a different ethic. This paradigm shift will allow us to recognize our species’ unnecessary wanton destruction of the planet’s finite resources and ultimately give us opportunities to live truly in partnership with God. It will also give us guidance for ways that we can allow the earth to heal and, as a result, create a healthier society, since what is good for the earth is ultimately good for humanity. Guiding these ethics are the prohibitions of bal tashchit, the biblical and Rabbinic laws forbidding unnecessary waste and reckless destruction of resources that are beneficial to human beings. The laws of bal tashchit originate in Deuteronomy 20:19-20 ... This chapter will illustrate how they are expanded in talmudic literature to prevent wasting all other food resources, energy sources, and material goods. In the Middle Ages, the author of Sefer HaChunuch refined the guidelines of bal tashchit to forbid wasting any edible food sources, down to even the tiniest of morsels of food. Rambam made the equitable distribution of resources a social justice issue under the category of the laws of bal tashchit in the Mishneh Torah. [Hilchot Eivel 13:24]. Finally, we must continue to cultivate a bal tashchit ethic for today, standing firmly on the shoulders of our ancestors, and fulfilling our responsibility to guard and protect our world, especially when it comes to choosing the types of food we eat and understanding the impact those choices make on our own health and the health of our planet. In the following pages, we will explore a sampling of texts that define the development of these laws. (By Kevin M. Kleinman, “CURB YOUR CONSUMERISM: Developing a Bal Tashchit Food Ethic for Today”) (Continued at [[DEUT1022]] Deuteronomy 20:20 fruit SACTAB 165-6).

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DEUT1011 The push for local, organic, and other alternatives to industrial agriculture is grounded in the need for healthy food and environmental stewardship, goals that reflect Jewish values as important as the impulse to feed everyone for as little cost as possible. From Leviticus to Maimonides, we are commanded to keep our bodies healthy, so that we might better serve God (or pursue tikkun olam). The commandment bal talchit, which enjoins, “Do not destroy things from which humanity may benefit,” reminds us to be good caretakers of our limited natural resources (Deuteronomy 20:19-20). The environmental and health effects of industrial agricultural--the contaminating sewage pools common at Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs, or factory farms), the air pollution and energy consumption that results from moving the average food item fifteen hundred miles from farm to fork, and the exploding levels of childhood obesity--make it increasingly clear that our Jewish tradition demands a change. The philosophy behind the Fresh Food Financing Initiative argues for a different set of food justice values than our traditional food policy: it's not just the quantity of food that matters, but quality, location, impact, and access. This vision of food justice means that all people should be able to obtain healthy food in their communities, not just buy massive quantities of cheap corn-based processed food products. It requires a turn away from subsidized corn and soy to a focus on producing fresh food and vegetables and consuming food grown within a few dozen miles of our homes instead of thousands of miles away. After all, the Talmud teaches that “it is forbidden to live in a city that does not have a green garden” (Kiddushin 4:12). (By Michael Namath and Rachel Cohen, “RAISING OUR VOICES FOR FOOD JUSTICE”)

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DEUT1017 See [[GEN275]] Genesis 2:15 tend SACTAB 190-2

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