When Kosher Food Goes Up in Flames
The kosher community has recently suffered several huge losses.
At 3:56 a.m. on Tuesday, July 28, a fire devastated the Agri Star Meat & Poultry plant in Postville, Iowa, one of the largest kosher meat-processing facilities in the United States. The fire began accidentally in the plant’s laundry room and destroyed approximately 75 percent of the facility, leaving more than 600 employees without work.
This is not only an enormous loss for the local families who depend on that plant for their livelihood, this will hurt kosher consumers all across America, limiting supply and raising the cost of kosher meat, especially with the High Holidays approaching.
Then, early Shabbos morning, August 1, a fire gutted Nöam, a popular kosher dairy restaurant on Décarie Boulevard in Montreal. Surveillance footage appears to show an individual starting the blaze and fleeing.
Although Montreal police have not yet classified the fire as a hate crime, it is impossible to see a kosher restaurant deliberately burned and not feel shaken. At a time of rising antisemitism, even a place where Jewish families simply gather to eat and enjoy a kosher meal has suddenly become a target.
Then, on Tuesday, August 4, another fire destroyed Jerusalem Pizza in Lawrence, New York, along with the empty storefront next door. The cause of that fire remains under investigation, although preliminary reports indicate the fire may have started from a refrigerator in the building’s basement.
As I read about these fires, of course, my first thoughts were practical. What will this mean for the cost of kosher meat next month? How much freezer space do we have now?
Then I began to wonder if, after years of turning our synagogues into guarded and fortified facilities, we now need to worry about the safety of our kosher stores and restaurants as well?
But then a deeper, more theological question entered my mind.
Should a Jew be eating meat for pleasure at all? Is it even proper for us to go out to a restaurant for a pleasurable evening of eating together?
Perhaps a truly holy life should be more ascetic. Perhaps we should try to live above physical indulgence, eating only what we need and focusing our energy and time entirely on spiritual things.
Yet, when we open this week’s Torah portion of Re’eh, we discover a remarkable verse.
“When G-d, your G-d, expands your boundary, as He has promised you, and you say, ‘I would like to eat meat,’ because your soul desires to eat meat, you may eat meat according to every desire of your soul” (Deut. 12:20).
The Torah is explicitly allowing us to enjoy meat, even in a non-ritual, non-sacrificial setting.
More significantly, it connects the desire for meat with the Jewish people entering the Land of Israel, implying we should enjoy this pleasure only once we have been blessed with prosperity and wealth.
But if Jews were only commanded to slaughter their meat upon entering the land of Israel, what about during the forty years in the desert? Did they not eat meat then?
Of course, this very question is actually a debate between two rabbis in the Talmud (Chullin 16b).
Rabbi Yishmael teaches that in the desert the only time a Jew could eat meat was when it was brought as a sacred offering in the Tabernacle. Ordinary meat eaten simply for pleasure only became permitted once we entered Israel.
Rabbi Akiva disagrees. He maintains that ordinary meat could be eaten in the desert as well. What this verse introduces is the Mitzvah of Shechitah (ritual slaughter) before eating that meat.
The Jewish people in the desert lived on bread from heaven. Their water came from Miriam’s well, and the Clouds of Glory surrounded them. They were living inside a spiritual cocoon, completely removed from farming, business, and the ordinary struggle with the physical world.
They lived a life largely without physical indulgence. Because eating ordinary meat was not part of their central Divine mission, the Torah did not yet impose the full requirements of shechitah upon them.
Everything changed when they entered the Land of Israel.
They would now plant fields, build homes, raise animals, produce food, and create wealth. They would no longer live on bread falling from heaven.
What’s important to understand is that their new physical abundance was not merely an economic blessing. It also reflected a new and greater flow of spiritual energy. The “expanded boundary” the verse describes is not simply a geographical description of land. These words reflect a new infusion of an expanded spiritual power.
In the desert, their ability to transform the physical world was limited. In Israel, they were being entrusted with something far more difficult. They were being asked to enter the physical world, cultivate it, own it, and transform it into something holy.
That is also the deeper, Chassidic understanding of ritually slaughtering an animal.
On its basic level, the laws of shechitah require a perfectly smooth knife and an uninterrupted drawing motion, to avoid any unnecessary suffering to the animal.
But spiritually, ritual slaughter is much more than just the most humane way to end an animal’s life. It’s a transformative act that allows the animal to become part of a Jewish person’s journey toward G-d.
Both the action, as well as the Hebrew word “shechitah” are connected to the Hebrew word “meshichah” which means drawing or transferring something from one place to another. This act of “drawing the knife” across the animal’s neck is what draws the animal from one state into another, allowing its physical energy to be elevated into human life and ultimately into the service of G-d.
The animal has not simply been consumed. It has been transformed from a beast of the field into a source of sustenance and human nutrition.
Its meat can give us strength to study or do good deeds. It can become part of a Shabbos meal filled with singing and words of Torah. It can nourish a relationship, creating a bonding meal for guests who would otherwise eat alone.
This also explains the Torah’s unusual words: “Because your soul desires to eat meat.”
Does the soul really want steak?
The Rebbe explains that beneath the physical craving of the body is a much deeper yearning of the soul within. The hunger we feel for food is actually the soul’s desire to elevate the spark of G-dliness contained within the meat.
The body says, “I want to enjoy this.” But hidden within that urge is the soul quietly saying, “There is a spark of Divinity here that I was sent to uplift.”
That does not mean every craving is holy, or that every indulgence can be excused by calling it divine.
In fact, the Torah immediately warns us not to consume the blood of this same animal we are allowed to eat. Blood represents energy, excitement, and uncontrolled passion. So, while we may enjoy the meat, we must not get carried away by the excitement of that pleasure.
This is how even fine dining and good food are part of our Jewish journey.
There are spiritual sparks in that food waiting to be revealed through the blessings we make, and the friendships we share. There is Divine energy in that food, waiting for us to utilize that nourishment to perform good deeds.
But only as long as we remember that the purpose of eating is not merely to satisfy the animal within us, but to elevate the animal before us.
Only as long as we “draw the animal” close, and channel our pleasure to something greater.
So as we think about the recent fires impacting the cost of kosher meat and the security of our kosher establishments, we should also pause for a moment and ask: What are we doing with the kosher food we are working so hard to protect?
When we eat, do we make a blessing first? Are we mindful in our eating, hearing the soul’s inner calling within? Do we use the strength from that meal to become more patient, more generous, and more available to others?
More broadly, when G-d gives us abundance, do we simply consume more, or do we accomplish more?
May Agri Star, Nöam Restaurant, and Jerusalem Pizza rebuild quickly.
And may we remember that physical abundance is not meant to pull us away from G-d. It is G-d’s invitation to us to take even more of His world and bring it closer to Him.
Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Yankie & Chana Denburg
