EATING BLOOD AND LOVING IT

Many years ago, in the era prior to cell phones, microwave ovens and color TV, I used to help my mother kasher meat. If that sounds odd to you because, you might reason, isn’t meat just kosher once you buy it, the answer is it is, but that’s because today it has already been soaked and salted. Not so in the 1950’s. Back then, you would wash off the meat, submerge it in tepid water for half-an-hour, remove it and cover it generously with kosher salt, both sides, replace the meat on a perforated board, propped up at about a 20 degree angle, and let it sit there for one hour.

The whole purpose of these actions was to drain it of all blood, for as we learn in the Torah—

 

Lo tokhlu al hadam…Don’t eat anything with its blood… (Leviticus 19:26a)

The blood is regarded as the life of the animal and we dare not consume the flesh with the life intact.

The respect that Judaism nurtures for life is famous. These seemingly simple rituals point to bigger ideas that make a difference in how we live. In respecting life as we do, Jews should never turn their heads away from another person’s pain, or take animal life viciously, or treat subjects like abortion or euthanasia lightly, and so forth. And actually, the whole issue of rumors and whether we become accessories to their distribution also falls into the category of not eating blood. Rumors which kill others emotionally and spiritually, and could kill others even physically, should never be spread by anyone, especially Jews.

So here’s something to think about. The next time you receive an e-mail about someone who has been mistreated or hurt, a university that has made some outrageous decision, a country that has become particularly abusive, take a look at that e-mail and ask yourself a few questions:

Do you know who wrote this?

Do you know if it was ever distributed in a reputable publication?

Is it dated?
Are its claims substantiated by references to established research volumes?

If your answers are “No” to any one of the above questions, chances are someone has just sent you a slanderous, defamatory, piece of gossip, based on nothing except the author’s prejudices. Material like this is designed to spill blood, an individual’s or an institution’s. It makes no difference—the intent is murderous and the author wants you to eat the blood.

Don’t do it. Take the article, submerge it in your trash file, and don’t send it on to anyone else. Unless you can yourself verify the truth of that article, in distributing it, you become an accomplice to an immoral act and violate the Torah’s prohibition against eating blood.

CAN A JEW BE CRITICAL OF ISRAEL?

I was recently charged with never uttering a critical word about Israel. That made me chuckle because as far as I am concerned, I’m always critical of Israel. And that’s good because being critical is about reflection, assessment, objectives, success and failure and all the criteria that would make for a fair and honest evaluation. Above all, criticism underscores one of the ideological foundations of Israel—the fact that it is a free society and that people can say pretty much whatever they want to with impunity.

I think the problem is really most people haven’t the foggiest idea of what true criticism actually is. They think criticism and immediately think complaint, disapproval, or accusation when, in fact, true criticism involves that and that which is praiseworthy, commendable, or laudable. Sometimes critics see plays that they actually like. When they shower compliments on some production, it’s not because they have temporarily abandoned their professional duty—approval is actually a part of criticism. In fact, you can almost be sure when the critical perspective has been abandoned in listening to a perspective or review which contains nothing but complaint, disapproval or accusation. That’s not real criticism unless, of course, you’re reviewing hell.

Most of what passes as criticism of Israel these days is thinly veiled anti-Semitism. That statement itself would raise the ire of many claiming that anytime criticism is voiced, the critic runs the risk of being called anti-Semitic. But the fact is that when criticism emanates from a worldview which sees Israel as a European colonial power, an intrusion into the Middle East, an apartheid state, deserving of annihilation, that’s not criticism. You better love the object of your critical eye. If you don’t, your words will not be criticism but they will be hostile and hateful.

Israel is a beautiful country with a host of imperfections and shortcomings. The Orthodox are given way too much money in return for so many refusing to serve in the army; minority parties are given way too much power due to Israel’s peculiar democratic structure; and in this land of milk and honey, there are still way too many children who go to bad each night without so much as a glass of milk. Forget about the honey. And yet, at 62 years of age, surrounded by a persistent and invidious Arab belligerence, Israel has achieved technological, pharmaceutical, and medical breakthroughs that few other countries can lay claim to. It’s an amazing and magical little country. To walk its streets and alleys is to feel the energy of thinking and vibrant people, as well as a loving and compassionate God.

I’m critical of Israel. But being critical is not, by definition, being negative. Sometimes you can actually like what you see. I see Israel and I love her. If you ever go to Israel, you’ll fall in love with her too. Be a critic.

THE KOSHER CONTINUUM

Many of us grew up an old Yiddish adage which went something like this—Shver tzu zain a Yid—it’s hard to be a Jew. Why is it so hard? Well, there are a lot of dos and don’ts, and on top of that, the general public—what shall I say?—hasn’t always liked us. But this viewpoint should not go unchallenged. So here goes: for those of us who live in North America today, living Jewishly has never been easier.

Take kashrut, for example. Let’s say a Jew’s diet fundamentally involves two broad parameters—no shell fish or pork and no mixtures of meat and dairy. In either case, observing these parameters cost neither time nor money. Some might say that it is a hardship to give up foods or combinations which they find so appealing, but let’s be real—if giving up a ham sandwich is your definition of hardship, then you should be thanking God for the hardships you have to endure in your life.

All right, you counter, maybe those aspects of Kashrut are easy, but that’s not all what kashrut is about. And yes, I would agree, but here’s the point. At some time in the evolution of Jewish thought, keeping kosher became like being pregnant—you either were or you weren’t. Let’s reject that either/or, all or nothing, black or white thinking. Perhaps you are a Jew who never touches pork. That’s great—you’re on the kosher continuum. Perhaps you are a Jew who would never mix meat and dairy—that’s great. You’re on the kosher continuum. Perhaps you are a Jew who never buys unkosher meats but you only have one set of dishes—that’s great. You’re on the kosher continuum. I reject the idea that in order to be kosher, one must do it all. I reject it precisely because there is no agreement in the Jewish community as to what “all” actually is. On the other hand, we do know what nothing looks like, and nothing is where I would hope no Jew would choose to be. Get onto the kosher continuum and then let’s talk about doing more.

Judaism, for too long, has been dominated by dogmatic thinking that has diminished Jews who are trying. Let’s free ourselves of that mode of thought and honor those who both try and strive for more. Kashrut is a beautiful system whereby God asks us to be mindful of what goes into our mouths, and by extension, how we view our place on earth. We are guests in God’s house and thus not all his creations are ours for the taking. We may take the life of one of God’s creatures but not in a painful or careless manner. Meat and dairy are, on some level, symbolic of death and life respectively, so we maintain a strict separation of these realms for a holy people must live fully and not permit death to overwhelm us. If you’re on the Kosher continuum, that’s great. But don’t get stuck doing the same thing year after year. Where nothing changes is the domain of death. Do more. Think more. Move deeper into the Kosher continuum. It’s easy to be a Jew because it’s all about you living fully, and living fully is what Kashrut moves us to embrace.

GOVERNMENT, MORE OR LESS

With the notable exception of the ultra-Orthodox, most Jews in the United States are Democrats. Some claim, particularly in the Reform movement, that it is our heritage that has determined our voting pattern. The prophetic cry to treat the widow, orphan, and stranger with greater compassion seems to fit well into a Democratic platform that expands the role of government to care for the vulnerable. How can anyone argue against this? It seems so fundamentally right.

In examining some of the deeper political rifts in America, the Jewish community needs to remember that our nation’s history began not in the late 1800’s, when the Jewish migration to America picked up steam, but a couple of centuries earlier, with the pilgrims who left an English political structure they despised. These early settlers were bound by the idea that government should be an object of suspicion and distrust. When the founding fathers established three branches of government designed to ”balance” each other, they created a government that would never advance quickly or efficiently. To the contrary, it was crafted to hamper the vision of any one branch, particularly the Executive, and in that way keep people free from the tyranny of the one (i.e., the president). People may be disappointed with President Obama’s inability to deliver on his campaign promises, but that fact alone points to a government working precisely as the founding fathers envisioned it.

Were there a debate between Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel on one side, and Franklin, Adams, and Jefferson on the other, the outcome could be disturbing for American Jews. Whereas the prophets would demand of a government that it finally correct all the ills society is subject to, the founding fathers would be wondering what planet they had come from? Didn’t they understand that no government, since the beginning of time, has been able to accomplish that? Didn’t they understand that government rarely served to free the people, but rather strapped them with unreasonable taxation and in other ways curtailed their personal, God-given freedoms? In defense of the prophets, they could not possibly have known that. They were not operating with the hindsight of the founding fathers who deliberated over the effects of 2,000 years of monarchial rule and determined it hopelessly corrupt. They thus lead the country to a new political paradigm, one in which government was legitimized only by consent of the governed. The governed would naturally limit governmental powers, thus minimizing the extent to which it could impact on or interfere with their lives. Alexander Hamilton, the country’s founding economist, actually argued against a federal income tax, citing that it would be a burden to the people.

The debate about health care in this country is not so much about making health care accessible and affordable—everyone agrees, in principle, to that. Rather the debate has to do with the more fundamental question of the role of government, especially the extent of that role in people’s personal lives. Republicans, on balance, favor smaller government for the reasons stated above. And so, the Jewish community, having framed health care as a personal right rather than a choice, and in keeping with Democratic practice, sees a deepening governmental presence in health care as innocuous. Like the prophets, we see government as a solution and work toward that perfect government. Not everyone is as sanguine as we about perfecting governmental bureaucracy.

There is something disingenuous about using the prophets as the biblical basis for the Jewish people’s natural connection with the Democratic party. The prophets, for all their wisdom, neither knew nor understood what Democracy was all about. Who knows how they would vote today? On the other hand, our founding fathers might have thoroughly enjoyed a conversation with the prophet Samuel, who was first approached by the people to create a monarchy in Israel. Samuel was distressed with this development and saw it as a rebellion against God. In the end, he reluctantly consented, presumably because God Himself tells Samuel to concede. And Samuel does, but not without a prediction of what that king would do to Israel:

This will be the practice of the king who will rule over you: He will take your sons and appoint them as his charioteers and horsemen, and they will serve as out runners for his chariots. He will appoint them as his chiefs of thousands and of fifties; or they will have to plow his fields, reap his harvest, and make his weapons and the equipment for his chariots. He will take your daughters as perfumers, cooks, and bakers… He will take a tenth part of your flocks, and you shall become his slaves. (I Samuel 8:11-13; 17)

Ouch.

But fair is fair: we also don’t know how Samuel would vote today, knowing that we trashed the monarchial system he so hated. In the end, the political debates in this country are fascinating, and when conducted respectfully, are enormously enlightening. But we would do well to keep in mind what is really being debated. It is often said that America is behind Europe in so many ways. Perhaps, but America remains one of the most robust experiments in personal freedom and human rights. We should not be dismissive of the nature of our debates over government which go to the very heart of what it means to be a free and responsible member of society.

CIVIL DISAGREEMENT

Listen, I don’t want to chastise any one for poor behavior but lately there have been a series of signs pointing to a breakdown in civilized discourse in our world. There was, for example, Representative Joe Wilson, a Republican of South Carolina, who disrupted President Obama’s address to congress by shouting “You lie.” In another instance of political rage, Representative Bart Stupak, a Democrat of Michigan, was interrupted in a speech on health care reform when a voice from the Republican side shouted “Baby Killer.” It was unclear whether the intent of the charge was that the bill, which endorsed government subsidized abortion, was a baby killer or Stupak himself, in supporting the bill, was a baby killer, but it made no difference—the shouted charge was deeply jarring and upsetting. And finally, to prove that uncivilized behavior is not the domain of any one political party, Representative Eric Cantor, Republican of Virginia, had a bullet shatter the window of a regional office, and has been the object of such virulent anti-semitic attacks, he is loathe to even reveal their specific content for feat of copycat racists spreading the hate even more than it already is.

I’m preaching to the choir when I say that such verbal abuses and acts of violence are totally out of bounds in a democracy, and I suspect that the good majority of us are as outraged as any decent citizen would be in learning of these offenses. But perhaps the time has come to examine ourselves--Have we contributed, even if only inadvertently, to a climate of intolerance and enmity in the country?

One of the sadder facts of political discourse these days is the extent to which honest and vigorous debate is curtailed by people whose political positions are overshadowed by their passion. Debate should never be about who can shout the loudest, who can humiliate most effectively, or whose sarcasm is sharpest. These are all ways we focus on anything but the issue at hand. It is people who lack an understanding of a problem who will most likely resort to destroying their opponent rather than debating the issue. Who wants to debate under those conditions? And when true debate is suppressed, we all lose, for it is within the give and take of political argument that we can actually better understand our differences and thus the issues at stake.

I don’t personally know anyone who has ever insulted the president of the United States or put a bullet through a congressman’s window, but I know plenty of people who become so enraged in a political debate that their manner moves others to bring discussion to a close. That’s a problem. A democracy that can’t discuss an issue civilly is an impoverished democracy and cannot thrive for any length of time.

Most of the Talmud is a weaving of mahlokot—debates. Sometimes those debates got sharp, but mostly they were witty and clever and conducted in an atmosphere leshem shamayim, that is, for the sake of heaven or to clarify what exactly heaven wants of us. I’ll tell you this—heaven doesn’t expect us to agree with each other, but heaven expects that when we disagree, we disagree respectfully and civilly. Let’s talk about this more to our family, friends and neighbors and let everyone know that our threshold for tolerating uncivil behavior has just dropped significantly.