God said to Moshe: You shall not seethe a kid in its
mother's milk.
Moshe said to God: Oh! Ok. So we're going to have
separate pots for foods with milk and foods with meat.
God said to Moshe: You shall not seethe a kid in its
mother's milk.
Moshe said to God: Oh! Ok. So after we eat
meat, we're going to wait three hours before we eat anything dairy.
God said to Moshe: You shall not seethe a kid in its
mother's milk.
Moshe said to God: Oh! Ok. So we're going to
wash our meat and dairy pots, dishes and utensils with separate sponges.
Finally God says: Oh fine. Have it your way!
While searching the web for the half
remembered phrasing of the above joke, I came across a dvar by Rabbi Amy Levin,
of East Greenwich, Rhode Island, USA. She too used this joke to illustrate
parashat Re’eh, which, among other things, discusses kashrut. In her blog, http://www.toratyisrael.org/rabbis-blog.html, on
the shul’s website, Rabbi Levin also listed three reasons for “cherishing,
embracing, and committing” to kashrut. They were too good not to share.
1. Kashrut compels us to be mindful of what we
put into our mouths. Rather than grabbing what is handy, we train
ourselves to elevate our choices, to infuse what nourishes our bodies with a
spiritual dimension.
2. Kashrut is our quiet rebellion. History and
fate have placed us in a culture focused on consumption, on instant
gratification, on latest fads . . . kashrut is an eternal, consistent core
criteria, it does not change with the seasons. Kashrut is like a mast that
holds steady in constantly changing winds.
3. Kashrut: our not-so-secret handshake. It's
just so Jewish. Kashrut is a way to express, and to enhance, our sense of
belonging to the Jewish world. It's the way Jews eat. It's never having to
be apologetic because you can't invite someone Jewish to your home. It's a way
to express the Jewishness of your home and family that links you to Jews all
over the world and Jews throughout history.
Kashrut makes
us conscious. If we have to react to what we put in our mouths, reciting
blessings before and after, then eating must become a thoughtful act. We begin
to appreciate whence comes our food, and how it gets to our plate. In addition,
Rav Sean and I love to cook. We
have an amazing cookbook collection. The number was over 100 at last
count. (It may rival the Hagaddah
collection.) The best cookbooks share stories. From the Junior’s! Remembering Brooklyn with Recipes and
Memories from its Favorite Restaurant to Recipes Remembered: A
Celebration of Survival, these share not only recipes, but also stories of
our people and our struggles, and connect us through the generations. Come to our house. We’ll feed you, and I’ll show off the
framed, faded recipe for madelbrot I used to bake mandel with my mother for
each holiday.
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