Ki Tissa

Today's Parsha is a difficult one. How can we ever understand the actions of Aaron in building the golden calf to appease the people? How can we understand such abstractions as God's face? God's back? There is so much to talk about in Parsha Ki Tissa but given the very short time slot I have to say something meaningful to you, I am going to talk about keeping Kosher.

It all started right here in Parsha Ki Tissa with the direct order from God - DO NOT BOIL THE KID IN ITS MOTHERS MILK.

What an odd idea. This one sentence has sparked more commentary than probably any other in all of the Torah.

So where did this idea come from? Back in the time of the Torah, it was a common practice of the Caananites to literally boil a baby lamb in its mothers milk and provide that milk to their gods to make them fertile. This Pagan ritual was disgusting to God and so he forbade the Israelites from doing it. This single prohibition fostered the law of separation of milk and meat.

So how do we get from the specific, "Do not boil a kid in its mother's milk" to the much more general, "do not mix milk and meat"? As Rabbi Gunther Plaut wrote in his UAHC Torah Commentary, "Rabbinic Judaism developed the command into the cornerstone of dietary law and saw it as a prohibition of eating milk and meat products together - a meaning entirely extraneous to the text." So let's look first at what the Torah text might really mean, and then try and figure out how the Rabbinic Sages understood it.

Often it is maintained that the laws of Kashrut are maintained for health or hygienic reasons. But, as Maimonides and others clearly point out, Jews do not keep kosher for health reasons (if that was the case, then modern refrigeration and cooking technics would invalidate most of these laws) but rather we keep kosher because God has asked it of us. The dietary laws, as presented in Torah, are considered to be Chukim, mitzvot whose purpose is not clear to humans (as opposed to Mishpatim, whose meaning is clear and self-evident).
But we can speculate, as many have done. Since God makes it clear in the Torah that we are to avoid the practises of the idolatrous peoples and maintain ourselves as a distinct nation, many assume that the Chukim, and particularly the laws of Kashrut, exist to counteract certain idolatrous rituals. While this sacrificial practice may have ceased, the item is still on the menu today. On a Mediterranean cooking web site, I came across a recipe from Syria/Lebanon called "Lamb Cooked In Its Mother's Milk." Oy. I don't think this is a coincidence. Obviously the practice existed, or the Torah would have no reason to prohibit it.
Other reasons were also suggested for this prohibition. Ibn Ezra connects the law against boiling a kid in its mother's milk with the Torah's injunction against slaughtering a cow and her offspring on the same day (Leviticus 22:28) and the edict not to take a mother bird from the nest along with her eggs (Deuteronomy 22:6-7). For  Ibn  Ezra,  it was clear that all  three of  these mitzvot draw their inspiration from a single idea: to kill a mother and its offspring at the same time reflects a lack of sensitivity to life that is inexcusable.
So, if you must seek a rationale for the Torah's disdain for Lamb and Milk stew, then either of these reasons is as good as the other: the Torah seeks to distance Israel from a practise that was common among the idolatrous peoples, and/or, the Torah was emphasizing the sanctity of life and denigrating those who devalue life by destroying mothers along with their children.
But how then did the Rabbis get from "not boiling a kid in its mother's milk" to "no mixing dairy with meat"? Well, this is a classic case of "fence around the Torah," the halakhic device by which mitzvot, as recorded in the Torah, are expanded, sometimes to a great extent, to help Jews avoid inadvertently breaking a law. Basically, the rabbis were concerned about the possibility of confusion. Milk all looks the same, no matter what the source, and most red meat looks similar. How can you ever be sure that the milk you are using to boil the kid did not come from its mother? You can't. So we avoid mixing all milk and meat. And if we develop too much of a taste for other kinds of meat, especially lamb, cooked in milk or served with dairy, then how can we be sure we will draw the line when it comes to kid cooked in its mothers milk? By extending the law against boiling a kid in its mother's milk to a law prohibiting all meat with diary, the rabbis sought to avoid accidents that might result in a transgression against God's law, and help us develop disciplines that will prevent sin. The Rabbis started with a specific law, but, in the spirit of that law, they developed it into an entire way of life.
That's one way of looking at it. But here's another. Everything we do as Jews is meant to imbue the ordinary with holiness - from the simple act of eating to the appreciation of a rainbow to the respect we show to the dead - every aspect of Jewish life is subject to the idea of "added-value", to coin a modern marketing term. We add value to our lives by making the ordinary, extraordinary. We separate Shabbat from the other 6 days of the week and we make it special, we make it holy. We separate life from death, clean and unclean, holy and profane. We separate milk and meat to make ourselves aware that even the simple, animal act of eating can be imbued with holiness. And maybe, by referring back to the order to not boil the kid in its mothers milk, we are expressing a beautiful reverence for the very special relationship that exists between a mother and her child. Each time we refrain from eating a cheese burger or swilling a milk shake with a corned beef sandwich we are bringing honour and holiness to that very special relationship.
Holiness means to hallow our lives - and it is a way that we separate ourselves from the other nations. One of the primary functions of kashrut is to distinguish us from others, to separate us from the nations, to preserve us amidst the maelstroms of history. Jews are a small nation scattered amongst the peoples. How can we be prevented from being swallowed up and assimilated in the course of the years. Kashrut helps us to separate, to distinguish ourselves and to preserve us; to remind us three times a day who we are and what God chose us to stand for. When we honour the simple act of eating by keeping kosher, we say "yes" to the glory and grandeur of Jewish tradition and we show the courage to say "no" to the world with all of its allurements and seductions, with all of its captivating call to conformity.
It takes work to be a Jew. It isn't easy. And sometimes we slide and back pedal and struggle with the responsibilities our ancestors accepted for us a Sinai. We are Israel and Israel means to struggle. Kashrut demands sacrifice, self-discipline and determination - but what that is really worthwhile in life does not? It demands the courage to turn our face against the powerful current of conformity that almost overcomes us daily, not only against the gentile world, but against the majority of the Jewish world! Is this not what the prophet Isaiah spoke of when he sang of a saving remnant of Israel? Throughout our long history - from Egypt to Palestine to Babylonia to Spain to Germany to America and ultimately to Israel, it has always been that loyal "remnant" not the entire people which has been faithful to our task and preserved our heritage from generation to generation. Kashrut is a uniquely jewish way to add holiness to our lives every single day. It is a way we can hallow a simple, animalistic act into something beautiful and meaningful. And in so doing further our mission to be a light unto the nations. Shabbat Shalom.