"Rabbi!" said the good natured voice on the telephone. "How do I make my
bakery kosher?" My initial response was incredulity. There aren't a lot
of Jews who live in my community--about 2000, if you count some twice.
Such a small population works against the impulse of any entrepreneur to
open a kosher restaurant or butcher shop, let alone a bakery.
The laws of kashrut are based in this week's Torah portion (in Leviticus,
Chapter 11), which enumerates the kinds of animals which Jews can eat.
They elicit varied reactions among Jews, depending on their attitude
toward Jewish observance and identification. The broad spectrum of
today's Jewish community has differing ideas about how strict one must
be, but the topic of kashrut will almost always produce strong--often
visceral--reactions.
So here was a Jew, not affiliated with any synagogue, who wanted to make
his bakery kosher! I readily agreed to oversee the process, which we
recently completed. The work was interesting, both for what we all
learned, as well as what happened when it was complete. Believe it or
not, there were several issues which bear on the question of social
justice.
JEWISH SELF-INTEREST: The first problem was that all the workers in the
bakery are non-Jews who had little or no exposure to Jews or Jewish
culture. It was important that I explain in full what was going to happen.
Most of the workers were aware of the prohibition against Jews eating
pork (Leviticus 11.7), even if they've never met any Jew who actually
observes it! Taken on its own, it makes little sense. I explained the
concept behind the prohibitions listed in Leviticus: we're not allowed
to eat scavengers or animals of prey. Rather, the permitted animals are
pastoral in nature which, it is hoped, will elicit a similar attitude
among the people who eat them.
Add to that the prohibitions against mixing meat and dairy products
(based on Exodus 23:19, 34:26, Deuteronomy 14:21), and the prohibition
against eating blood (Genesis 9.4), and you begin to see a pattern. That
is, keeping kosher is a discipline which, if practiced correctly, brings
Jews into closer touch with their religious values. This is something
the bakery workers could respect. It not only elicited their cooperation, but their enthusiasm in aiding the project.
I don't know what their previous ideas or attitudes were, but the
opportunity to educate them was very gratifying. It had to produce a
better attitude toward Jews, in general. It also helped when I explained
that most mistakes can be corrected without any undue problems; they saw
that, while I'm strict, I can also be flexible. Some of them will talk about the experience with their families and friends, so the benefit of their experience will spread.
KASHRUT MEANS MORE THAN WHAT GOES INTO OUR MOUTHS: When I started the cleaning and boiling of utensils, and the blow-torching of ovens, I
noticed that there were a lot of doughnuts left over from previous day's
baking. They were getting stale, and would be thrown out. The owner said
there was no one who wanted to take the doughnuts off his hands.
Danny Siegel, the tzedakah activist, has made left-over doughnuts into
one of his pet projects. He encourages teenagers from all over the
country to go to local shops, and get them to send the products to soup
kitchens in the community. I reasoned that this should be a project for my
bakery, too.
I explained to the owner that "Kosher is as kosher does." True kashrut
requires social responsibility. So now, every morning, a truck from the
local soup kitchen comes by and gets lots of leftover products. And
frankly, we're just getting started. The owner is now open to making his
store more environmentally responsible, and buying his supplies from
companies which can demonstrate that they don't abuse cheap foreign
labor.
BREAKING DOWN BARRIERS: Shortly after the bakery started advertising its
new kosher status, the owner was contacted by a local Muslim school.
They are bound by similar dietary laws, especially against eating pork.
As a result, many Muslims rely on kashrut inspection symbols to insure
that there is no prohibited nimal shortening in the breads and cakes they eat. The
school's parents and teachers are happy that they now have a local
source for such products.
This has not been a good year for Muslim-Jewish cooperation. The unrest
and violence in Israel has produced some deep resentments in this
country, too. Locally, we haven't had any dialogue at all. So it is
gratifying that we've now done a favor for our Muslim neighbors. I hope
that in the future, when Muslim and Jewish shoppers go into the bakery,
they'll be able to forge new friendships.
It all began with a phone call--about a subject that most people don't
associate with social action issues. In a few short weeks, making this bakery kosher touched on quite a few. Who would have guessed?
