Kashrut, Kabbalah, Jokes, and Theology

In the summary of this past Shabbat that I posted last night, I included a joke that I came up with Friday night. A rabbi friend in the comments asked me to write more, and I did. (I'm not a C. S. Lewis fan, but is has been said that he wrote much better theology when he was telling stories than he did when he wrote straight theology - maybe my best theologizing comes through jokes!)

This past Shabbat, on Friday night, I noticed that Shir HaShirm/Song of Songs 4:13 contained the phrase “Pardes Rimonim im Pri Megadim” in it. Literally, this means “Orchard of Pomegranates with Luscious Fruit” – but it put me in mind of rabbinic works with those titles – Pardes Rimonim, a foundational kabbalistic text based on teachings of the Zohar, written by Rabbi Moshe Cordevero (16^th century Kabbalist and author of Tomer Devorah), and Pri Megadim, a widely-used commentary on the Shulchan Aruch by Rabbi Yosef Ben Meir Teomim, an 18^th-century Galitzianer rabbi. I immediately thought of a joke that this verse provides a biblical mandate to only teach the laws of kashrut in the context of Kabbalah and shared it with various people at shul the next day and posted it as part of a Facebook post on how I spent my Shabbat. A Renewal rabbi friend in Israel said to write more about it – “please” – and I realized that, although on the surface it is a joke, perhaps there is something deeper there.

 I am currently taking an in-depth course on issur v’heter, the laws of kashrut, focusing on the Shulchan Aruch and the Rama’s glosses with Shach and Taz, but bringing in other halachic sources as well, including the Pri Megadim, and it is because of this that I noticed the verse. The course, which is very well taught, is focusing only on the laws and the legal reasoning behind the various opinions, without any attempt to find a spiritual meaning in them. However, my way of being religious is to work to find spiritual meaning in all religious practices and I have been writing pieces in response to various laws of kashrut based on my meditations on them.

Certainly, this is not everyone’s approach. Traditionally, different Hebrew words are applied to different mitzvot, with the work chok applying to those mitzvot for which there is no reason given – the laws of kashrut fall into this category. While some mitzvot (such as the prohibition against killing) are seen as rational and universal, many of the so-called ritual mitzvot are not.

Yeshayahu Leibowitz famously went even further, teaching that there is no spiritual or ethical meaning in following any of the mitzvot and we must do so only to obey G!d, with any attempt to find spiritual or ethical meaning being akin to idolatry. However, others in the Jewish tradition, such as Maimonides, taught that even the chukkim have reasons, even if they are not readily apparent, and many have sought to find reasons for them, some ethical, some more spiritual than ethical.

It is this latter approach that speaks to me. For me, religious practice must be a way of connecting with G!d, of serving others, and/or of becoming my truer, more authentic self, made b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of G!d. “Do it because I/G!d said so!” does not work for me. Because of my approach, I have been able to find great depths of meaning in my religious practice which makes it a satisfying way of life that I believe draws me closer to G!d, others, and myself.

That being said, one danger of finding spiritual meaning in particular religious practices is that what is deeply meaningful to one person may not resonate with another person, and although I reject Yeshayahu Leibowitz’s approach, I do think there can be something idolatrous if one becomes too attached to one particular meaning. The Jewish tradition is much better, if not perfect, at embracing multiple interpretations of Torah (the seventy facets, PaRDeS – pshat/remez/drash/sod) than the Christian tradition – in the latter, I saw this at play in many liturgists’ views who were unable to see that a rite could be multivalent – but I think it’s important to keep in mind as each person grapples with their own religious practice and its meaning in one’s life.

I also have had the experience that often one cannot begin to fathom the meaning of a religious practice until one has been observing it for some time. This is especially true of liturgical prayer – one cannot really begin to appreciate the beauty and depth of a particular liturgical rite without immersing oneself in it for at least a year. (Having practiced several rites over my life, you can trust me when I tell you this is true.) I believe it is true of other religious practices as well. These practices have a formative effect on our character, and it is only with time that we can begin to appreciate how they have formed us. When the Jewish people where given the Torah at Mount Sinai, we responded “Naaseh v’nishma” – “We shall do and we shall listen” – because it is only in the doing that the full revelation takes place, and the doing must occur for the listening to be possible. And meanings change and transform over time – a practice that may have one meaning for me today may have a very different meaning five years from now.

Perhaps, keeping these things in mind, I will revise my joke – it’s not that the laws of kashrut  - and other areas of halachah - should be taught through the lens of Kabbalah – rather they should absolutely be LEARNED through the lens of Kabbalah – or Jewish spirituality more broadly. As each of us learns and practices the various mitzvot – and all of the mitzvot – may we be zocheh – may we merit – to find a profound depth of meaning in the mitzvah, one that draws us closer to G!d, to othe