This....

This I Believe...

What follows is a "This I believe" style essay that I was asked to write about Israel. All of us in our house will be sharing our essays with each other and now I wanted to share it with you!
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I believe that it is our duty to put the well-being of others before ourselves. I believe that if everyone did this we would live in a world where our needs were met. I believe that this world will be hard to achieve, but that we have to start somewhere. I believe in leading by example.

I believe that when discussing the future of Israel, what is at stake is not a political issue but rather a moral one. To understand why I believe that this is so, let me tell you a bit about where I’m coming from. I grew up reciting the Israeli national anthem, every day in elementary school. We said it right after we said the pledge of allegiance. It wasn’t until middle school, when I was first becoming politicized and refused to pledge allegiance to any state that I started thinking critically about what I had been told was our homeland. I had learned the history, but it seemed wrong. How could you give land to the Jewish people, even after something as horrible as the Holocaust, when it wasn’t their land to take? My dad having studied international law in school quizzed me from a young age on both international etiquette and rights. By the time I was 14 I believed that the expansion of the state of Israel was in violation of both international law and basic tenants of human rights. I believe that human beings have a right to self-determination, a home, and the dignity that comes along with it.

In high school I labeled myself as an “anti-Zionist” and I believed that the matter of Israel was strictly political. It was easier to renounce what was supposed to be my homeland if I framed it in those terms. I became involved in many anti-Zionist networks and political groups, but I also grew weary of their methods and rhetoric and took a step back as I was entering college. I became so hesitant because I believe that making Israel a political issue can lead one to lose sight of an inherently human about it. In college I was caught between worlds. I had my world of books and ideals, where on paper respecting others absolutely seemed so simple. Then there was reality. I became a more active Jew and more comfortable with organized religion, yet somehow Israel was supposed to be intertwined with my Jewish identity? I couldn’t place it much like I couldn’t place gefilte fish in my Jewish memory. I had no real connection to it despite what others had told me to have.

I decided to go on Birthright, though only if I could swindle them a little (that’s another story), see Israel myself, and be an active voice of criticism throughout the trip. What I experienced validate all of my political concerns, but something larger came up. I think the best way to illustrate it was what happened when I went to the Wailing Wall… I wailed. I felt the pressure of thousands of years of history, pain, tears, and it was beautiful. It was overwhelming. I was reminded that in the end this is a human issue and I believe that politicking is an excuse we humans use to forget because it’s harder that way.

I believe in the words of the Torah when it states that we are to be a light unto other nations. I believe that means that when the world is at its darkest our tradition reminds us to not stray away from who we are. I believe that the task of being the chosen people is not a gift, rather it’s a responsibility. I believe that Jews must be ever vigilant in our pursuit of justice and that our tradition teaches us that justice begins with the other. I believe that if it weren't for others there would be no Jewish people and so our responsibility begins there. I am truly afraid that turning our backs to this most fundamental principle will bring about an end to the Jewish tradition. I believe when we are afraid for our well-being, we need to reevaluate our tactics of self-defense, because I believe that those very protective decisions might bring about our end.

Native Birds

It takes a certain kind of person to live in the Midwest. As Garrison Kealer would describe it, the ideal individual would have a gruff sense of humor, a sturdy frame, a modest personality, and a love of misery. No such truth is further exemplified than on my way to work every day. There's always a gang of these husky pigeons, puffed up, and sitting atop a ledge. They just look pissed off and you know, if I were a pigeon living in Chicago I would be pissed off too. On a recent trip to San Francisco I marveled at the svelte pigeons there, it seemed that even they had jumped on board with a West Coast mentality. Yesterday I managed to capture one of the disgruntled Chicago pigeons and so I thought I'd portray him against his West Coast counterpart.

Also, check out this story told from the perspective of a Chicago pigeon in the Third Coast International Audio Festival. Click hear to listen to Flocks of Grey

Those California Birds don't know how good they got it!

That's a bird who has seen too many winters...

Kosher Simplified?

What follows is a written version of a presentation I'm giving on what Kosher means. Funny enough, I don't keep kosher... wonder if that comes through in the presentation?

When discussing what it means for something to be “Kosher” we actually need to go back in time. Around 3000 years back to the beginning of Judaism. And though we don’t know exactly how long Jews have been keeping Kosher for, archeologists have found ancient kosher labeling stamps that allow us to date the practice to at least fifteen hundred years ago. Really where is there else to start but in “the beginning” or rather at least at the beginning of the Torah (or Old Testament). I think it’s important to start off in this location because we are supposedly given God’s ideal structure for a world. The Garden of Eden is about as utopian as it could get, which is only furthered emphasized by how it looks so different from today’s world in so many ways. In terms of framing the short discussion that we are about to have, I’d like to offer up the following interpretation before we get into the nitty gritty of what it means to keep kosher.

In the ideal state of symbiosis that was the garden of eden, there were very few rules (and perhaps as the story goes one very big one), but after the flood and the destruction of humanity to start anew we entered a world full of rules! Yet, instead of thinking of these “rules” as commandments dictate from high above, I’d like to instead frame it as a practice of intentionality. In other words, that in a chaotic and flawed world we require practices that re-orient us towards our own humanity.

Okay! So now for the nitty gritty! What does “Kosher” literally mean? It comes from the Hebrew word “Kasher”, which means “fit”. So something is Kosher if it is fit or suitable for eating. Though it is also important to note that the term does not only have to be applied to food, it could also be applied for instance to ritual objects. There is no such thing as kosher “style” foods. For instance, a Jewish deli may be un-kosher, it just might contain food familiar to the eastern European Jewish tradition. Something is also not “made” kosher. An animal either is or isn’t kosher, and if it is it must be slaughtered properly to maintain its status as kosher. But we’ll get to that later.

It is estimated that about 15% of Jews in America keep Kosher, but keep in mind that there are varying degrees of what “Kosher” can mean to different people. Often times this depends on both the region you are from and your personal interpretation of Jewish laws. It’s hard to determine why Jews started keeping Kosher in the first place? Was it driven by a moral ideology? By the health concerns of the time? Or by a practical desire for a more sustainable lifestyle? Nobody knows, but this latter reasoning is one that I’ll take up later and explore in a modern context.

The story goes that in the beginning all creatures had a vegetarian lifestyle. Animals and humans lived in a pleasant relationship to one another. Thus, at this point the notion of “keeping Kosher” was not necessary. It was only until after the flood and humanity was supposed to begin fresh from its past corruption that God allowed humans to eat the flesh of other animals. Yet, we don’t see the actual laws for kosher until the time of Moses when the Jews have left Egypt and were wandering through the desert. So this is a relatively long passage that lays out all of the “clean” and “unclean” foods. Everything from a badger to an ostrich (both not kosher by the way) appears here. In addition there are some rules of practice that follow this passage, for instance even if an animal is kosher, one is not allowed to eat it if it has died a natural death. These laws a bit complex and so let’s try to look at the most simplified model.

In order for an animal to be kosher it must be: a vegetarian, have a split hoof, chew its cud. So a dog is not kosher because it has paws and a pig is not kosher because it doesn’t chew its cud. Fish have to have scales and fins; they also mustn’t be bottom feeders. That’s why crustaceans, shark, eel, and cat fish are not kosher. Birds of prey are not kosher and all reptiles and amphibians are also not kosher. All insects are not kosher except for the grasshopper. PHEW alright.

Let’s talk briefly about some additional laws of Kosher that are widely practiced. The Torah pretty much just gives the “what” of kosher, but doesn’t really provide the “why” for keeping it. The Talmud or Oral Torah, which is a series of rabbinical debates provides that why and with it things become just a bit more complicated. You know the old joke, two Jews in a discussion yields 100 different opinions. Well has this um, useful chart depicts determining whether something is kosher to eat in today’s world can be a complex process. Let’s focus on a couple elements:

SLAUGHTER: single cutting motion along throat with a non-lacerated knife, post-mortem exam for disease, injuries, or abnormalities, and the blood drained.

UTENSILS: The Torah says that one must not cook a child in its mothers milk. Or in other words, don’t cook meat in milk. Thus the Talmudic scholars argued that in addition to not eating a cheeseburger, we must separate milk and meat utensils. The material of the utensil affects whether it can be made kosher again. Ex. Glass can and ceramic cannot.

VEGETABLES: Sometimes you’ll see a hecksher on veggies; this means that they have been inspected for insects.

WINE: produced for non-religious purposes is not kosher. Vodka, gin, etc. is fine. There is no provision against alcohol in Judaism.

So those are some highlights of the what and how of keeping Kosher. Now let’s discuss the business of keeping kosher. Though the labeling of Kosher foods has been around for over a thousand years, it would be hard to imagine that the complexities associated modern day life in our highly industrialized society wouldn’t affect the practice of keeping Kosher. Today there are many different kosher symbols placed on foods and I can’t say that it’s not political. Certain symbols are acceptable within some communities while others are not. Whether or not a labeled item can be considered kosher is determined by the rabbinate or head rabbis within a certain branch or movement within the Jewish tradition. As an aside it’s interesting enough that some non-Jews purchase kosher labeled foods because they associate it with a healthier and more human option. The idea that kosher food is necessarily both of these things is a controversial topic that we’ll spend our last few moments exploring.

We live in a world where most businesses operate under the simple principle of profit and again this affects the kosher industry as well. Too often in an effort to maximize profit standards are compromised. One such kosher processing plant was the recent focus of what happens when standards are lowered. You may be familiar with what has now come to be known as the “Postville Raid” of a Kosher slaughterhouse about 4 years ago. Essentially the agriprocessor was employing around 400 illegal immigrants, but many higher up employees were charged with being in severe violation of labor laws amongst a number of other human rights violations. This raid rocked the Jewish world not only because it brought to light a number of injustices that were close to home, but also because it meant that the meat the plant had been producing was un-kosher since dignified treatment of humans in addition to animals is fundamental to the Jewish tradition.

The response for many was a turn back towards what many people saw as the core values of what it meant for something to be kosher or “fit” for consumption. They sought to reclaim the notions of care for the earth and all its creatures that were said to be part of its tennats and move away from the highly industrialized practice that it has become. This took the form of organic free-range kosher meats, farms that specialized in practicing ancient agriculture laws such as Pe’ah leaving the corners of your field for those who are in need, or even practicing vegetarianism in order to fulfill textual interpretations of the Torah. In today’s world with all of the human driven problems that our environment faces, perhaps what it means to for something to be “kosher” or fit for consumption is that it was produced in a sustainable and ethical manner, which maybe would look closer to the ideas presented in the Torah and Talmud.

There are many local and national organizations that are focused on this idea of Eco-Kashrut and are finding ways to practice more sustainable forms of kosher in their own food production, advocacy, and educational outreach. I can say that as I Jew I find this movement to be an inspiration because it is essentially declaring that “Yes, we are going to find a way to preserve our rich culture and tradition, but do so in a way that is a spiritual alignment with our must fundamental beliefs of Tzedeck or justice.”

The following appeared in Avodah's blog. It's an adaptation I wrote of an earlier post I wrote in here. Let me know what ya think. It's a bit jargon-y. Oh well.

We Are Still In the Desert

Posted on April 3, 2012

By: Leila Shooshani

Photo by: Gregory Jordan via CC

As we approach the Passover holiday I’ve begun to wonder about the experience of wandering through the desert. You know the story: we were once slaves in Egypt, but before we reached the land of milk and honey we first had to traverse a barren landscape for forty years. Many chose not to leave, many Jews stayed in Egypt where suffering had become acceptable, familiarity comfortable. That’s one of the most amazing and tragic aspects of being human I suppose, our adaptability. Even the tiniest cage can seem like a home. Rabbi Hanoch of Alexandria said, “The real exile of Egypt was that the Israelites learned to endure it.” Yet, what counteracts this tragic aspect of humanity is a desire for escape – to abandon what is known in favor of… in favor of what? Hope in ourselves and one another?

During the Passover seder each year we recite “we were once strangers in Egypt.” Our prison was such that we could not see the other, we could not find ourselves liberated through her. The desert is symbolic for deprivation because even outside the confines of slavery, one is still not quite free; for instance, by being dependent on allowance of resources allocated by heavenly control (manna). Vast and unyielding, the desert seemed to have no end, and for those who died without reaching its borders, it didn’t.

In the nothingness of the desert, all you have are stories of hope. The Torah is the ultimate story because you not only interact with it, but it interacts right back. We treat the Torah as if it were another person. Yes we clothe it, kiss it, and provide it with a home; but we only do these things because we’re able to speak with the Torah as if it were another person. Moses, the mute liberator, delivered us to the nothingness where in order to survive, we require to be amongst interlocutors that would provide us with hope enough to make it out of the desert. In Judaism we transcend the brutality of the world through others and through our texts or stories, which we treat as other and in that way my existence is indebted to your very being.

I can’t help but notice the similarities between the Hebrew words for desert “Meedbar/מדבר”and for speech “Medabear/מדבר”. It seems that in its typically poetic and deeply profound fashion, the language is telling us that yes, when you have nothing in the world the only thing you have is each other. Storytelling, dialogue, sharing, aren’t these the foundations of the Passover Seder anyway? Scratch that, aren’t these the foundations of the entire Jewish tradition?

Our liberation story as a Jewish people is not one with a happy ending. During the seder we sing “Ha Lachma” about the bread of affliction and pronounce that “now we are slaves” and that next year we hope to be free. Yes, in the Torah we did eventually make it into Israel, but our history is far from over and we are still making it today. I believe that we are all “still in the desert.” We live in a world that sees an unimaginable degradation of human dignity; whether it is through poverty, war, or sheer inability to love or even recognize my neighbor as myself. Our journey is far from over. It is not enough to cease being strangers in Egypt, although we see the other and thus understand the ethical obligations we have to them, we have not reached freedom. This Passover let’s recite together “We are still in the desert,” because our only way of actualizing a just world is through each other.

Leila Shooshani is from Boca Raton, FL and attended New College of Florida. She is a Congregational Outreach Worker at Faith in Place, which helps people of faith understand that issues of ecology and economy-of care for Creation-are at the forefront of social justice.