 | A special teaching for Earth Week. Emerging from Passover, whose most outward manifestation is foods we eat and don't eat, maybe it's inevitable that the "food" part of this week's Torah portion stands out. "Kosher" and "not kosher" categories emerge from Torah's traditional list of what one does and doesn't eat. Turns out, though, that the spirituality of food is far deeper than whether we eat shellfish or pork. The real question is whether we can reclaim the spirituality of food – for ourselves, for core values, and for our planet. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Shemini 5785 (2025)
For Jews it's kashrut (laws of what is and isn't kosher / "fitting" to eat). For Muslims the word is halal, foods that Islamic law permits. For the allergic or sensitive, it's avoiding trigger foods.
However we slice it, eating is a core human concern, and thus a spiritual one. It's why this week's Torah portion lists foods that our ancestors could or could not eat (Leviticus 11).
But what do we make of such lists today – especially if we don't "keep kosher"? Is there a spiritual answer if we don't "keep kosher"? Can we reclaim the spirituality of food whatever we eat? The answer asks a backstory about what traditional kashrut really is.
Shemini 5785 (2025)
For Jews it's kashrut (laws of what is and isn't kosher / "fitting" to eat). For Muslims the word is halal, foods that Islamic law permits. For the allergic or sensitive, it's avoiding trigger foods.
However we slice it, eating is a core human concern, and thus a spiritual one. It's why this week's Torah portion lists foods that our ancestors could or could not eat (Leviticus 11).
But what do we make of such lists today – especially if we don't "keep kosher"? Is there a spiritual answer if we don't "keep kosher"? Can we reclaim the spirituality of food whatever we eat? The answer asks a backstory about what traditional kashrut really is.
Kashrut rules began simply. Cloven-hoofed cud-chewing mammals were in; others were out. The front half of a mammal was in; the hind half out. Yes to sea creatures with fins and scales; no to shellfish. Many birds (mostly scavengers) were out, others in.
Why? Torah didn't quite say, but Jewish tradition evolved meaningful explanations. Many rules appeared to be a health code, as was a related ban on eating a carcass or anything that died by itself (Lev. 7:26, Deut. 14:21). Other rules seemed to be about kindness: don't boil a kid in its mother's milk (Ex. 23:19), and don't make a mother bird watch losing her young on a nest (Deut. 22:6-7). Some rules invite us to be mindful, such as not eating creatures still having a thigh sinew, to remember the angel that wrenched Jacob's hip and renamed him Israel (Gen. 32:33); and not eating blood, a sacred basis of life (Lev. 7:26).
Those principles – health, kindness and mindfulness – are evergreen spiritual causes.
For liberal Jews, however, objections abound because kashrut rules grew like kudzu. From easy beginnings tradition adding precise ways to slaughter, exacting ways to examine food, different sets of pots for "milk" and "meat," different sets of dishes, careful supervision over agricultural fields, hiring rabbinic supervisors, kosher labeling, a whole industry. For some, the enterprise seemed to trip on rules without any internal sense of spirituality about them.
As rules became more and more strict, Jews self-isolated from non-kosher society... until they didn't. In the early 1800s, the Reform Movement began, in essence, as modernity brought its founders a sense that kashrut was equivalent to societal exclusion just when Jews wanted and could be full citizens in pluralist societies. After all, if Jews couldn't eat with their neighbors, then how could Jews be neighbors?
By 1883, the Reform Movement threw a Treyf Banquet for Hebrew Union College's first class of graduating rabbis. With a menu that deliberately broke every kashrut rule, the Movement declared that Jewish self-segregation was history. In its wake, liberal Jews began throwing off kashrut entirely. Others adopted funny compromises: shellfish is fine but only at a restaurant, not at home. Non-kosher takeout is fine, but use paper plates!
Most Jews today divide into two camps – kosher and not – with little common ground. And seemingly gone from awareness are the reasons why or why not. Either way, many Jews have lost the spirituality of food.
To me, the spirituality of food is far more than what we make of "rules" and whether we follow them. The deeper question, I think, is whether we can reclaim the spirituality of food at all.
I think we can. If ancient food spirituality was about health, kindness and mindfulness, then why can't we embrace those principles now? Can we insist on cruelty-free foods? food-industry labor practices that don't demean people? Can we eat sustainably for our ailing planet? Can we eat local foods whenever possible? Can we choose less polluting foods?
These eco-kosher values are the next frontier of an evolving Judaism. They us to expand our definitions of health consciousness to include workers, land, air and water. They ask us to bring kindness into what and how we eat. They ask us to be mindful that our choices matter.
Mindfulness that our choices matter: in a nutshell, that's spirituality – consciousness and commitment that our lives matter beyond our own selves. Food gives us chances every day to live that truth. The planet and future generations depend on it.
Earth Shabbat at Shir Ami will be April 25.
Read more about eco-kashrut from
Reform Movement
My Jewish Learning
Reconstructing Judaism
Adamah
* * *
The Week Ahead in the Omer Count
The 49-day Omer count from Passover (liberation) to Shavuot (revelation) began with the Second Seder on April 13. The first week of Omer that ended April 19 was for the liberating power that connects and transcends that we call hesed (lovingkindness). The second week of Omer ending April 26 is for gevurah (strength) – solidity, heathy structure, wise boundaries. Check that you have them: we need them to thrive in the world.
This third week of Omer (April 27 - May 3) is for balance (tiferet), the fusion and integration of disparate parts into a spiritual whole. In an era that destabilizes in so many ways, we need our heart-centered ways to keep calibrating – core values like a gyroscope that keep us centered, and also flexibility so we can bend amidst competing interests and sometimes storm winds. Think the willow tree: bend, don't break. Check that you've got this important toolkit: we need it to thrive in the world.
Why? Torah didn't quite say, but Jewish tradition evolved meaningful explanations. Many rules appeared to be a health code, as was a related ban on eating a carcass or anything that died by itself (Lev. 7:26, Deut. 14:21). Other rules seemed to be about kindness: don't boil a kid in its mother's milk (Ex. 23:19), and don't make a mother bird watch losing her young on a nest (Deut. 22:6-7). Some rules invite us to be mindful, such as not eating creatures still having a thigh sinew, to remember the angel that wrenched Jacob's hip and renamed him Israel (Gen. 32:33); and not eating blood, a sacred basis of life (Lev. 7:26).
Those principles – health, kindness and mindfulness – are evergreen spiritual causes.
For liberal Jews, however, objections abound because kashrut rules grew like kudzu. From easy beginnings tradition adding precise ways to slaughter, exacting ways to examine food, different sets of pots for "milk" and "meat," different sets of dishes, careful supervision over agricultural fields, hiring rabbinic supervisors, kosher labeling, a whole industry. For some, the enterprise seemed to trip on rules without any internal sense of spirituality about them.
As rules became more and more strict, Jews self-isolated from non-kosher society... until they didn't. In the early 1800s, the Reform Movement began, in essence, as modernity brought its founders a sense that kashrut was equivalent to societal exclusion just when Jews wanted and could be full citizens in pluralist societies. After all, if Jews couldn't eat with their neighbors, then how could Jews be neighbors?
By 1883, the Reform Movement threw a Treyf Banquet for Hebrew Union College's first class of graduating rabbis. With a menu that deliberately broke every kashrut rule, the Movement declared that Jewish self-segregation was history. In its wake, liberal Jews began throwing off kashrut entirely. Others adopted funny compromises: shellfish is fine but only at a restaurant, not at home. Non-kosher takeout is fine, but use paper plates!
Most Jews today divide into two camps – kosher and not – with little common ground. And seemingly gone from awareness are the reasons why or why not. Either way, many Jews have lost the spirituality of food.
To me, the spirituality of food is far more than what we make of "rules" and whether we follow them. The deeper question, I think, is whether we can reclaim the spirituality of food at all.
I think we can. If ancient food spirituality was about health, kindness and mindfulness, then why can't we embrace those principles now? Can we insist on cruelty-free foods? food-industry labor practices that don't demean people? Can we eat sustainably for our ailing planet? Can we eat local foods whenever possible? Can we choose less polluting foods?
These eco-kosher values are the next frontier of an evolving Judaism. They us to expand our definitions of health consciousness to include workers, land, air and water. They ask us to bring kindness into what and how we eat. They ask us to be mindful that our choices matter.
Mindfulness that our choices matter: in a nutshell, that's spirituality – consciousness and commitment that our lives matter beyond our own selves. Food gives us chances every day to live that truth. The planet and future generations depend on it.
Earth Shabbat at Shir Ami will be April 25.
Read more about eco-kashrut from
Reform Movement
My Jewish Learning
Reconstructing Judaism
Adamah
* * *
The Week Ahead in the Omer Count
The 49-day Omer count from Passover (liberation) to Shavuot (revelation) began with the Second Seder on April 13. The first week of Omer that ended April 19 was for the liberating power that connects and transcends that we call hesed (lovingkindness). The second week of Omer ending April 26 is for gevurah (strength) – solidity, heathy structure, wise boundaries. Check that you have them: we need them to thrive in the world.
This third week of Omer (April 27 - May 3) is for balance (tiferet), the fusion and integration of disparate parts into a spiritual whole. In an era that destabilizes in so many ways, we need our heart-centered ways to keep calibrating – core values like a gyroscope that keep us centered, and also flexibility so we can bend amidst competing interests and sometimes storm winds. Think the willow tree: bend, don't break. Check that you've got this important toolkit: we need it to thrive in the world.
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