Every religious person knows about it, and develops it: The ability to hone in directly to a products kashrut stamp, without s secular person every noticing. This is most obvious in the army: someone in the unit comes back from a week's R-and-R offering chocolates to everyone.
Then he gets to you. You don't want to offend him by asking him if the chocolate is kosher ("What could be un-kosher about chocolate? What, do you think I'd offer you pork?), but you're also not so willing to give in so easily. So what do you do?
You politely explain that you've got to check out the ingredients because of an allergy to nuts, allowing you to quickly suss out the OU or some other kashrut certification.
Or you explain that you've just had a meat meal and can't eat the milk chocolate just yet. Your average secular guy (with apologies to my secular friends) won't think to ask how you could possibly have eaten a meat meal since you woke up 10 minutes ago.
Doesn't always work
But this method doesn't work with other "religos". They know the act all too well, and will figure it out in a split-second. In theory, there shouldn't be any problem eating in someone's kitchen who observes the laws of kashrut – until the week of Pesach, that is.
I am married to a woman from a different religious tradition. Her parents eat rice and beans (called "kitniyot" in Hebrew), God help us, on Pesach. So what's an Ashkenazi son-in-law to do at his in-laws house? Try the good old trick of checking out the package of cookies to make sure they are okay for non-kitniyot eaters?
What about Granny?
I'm sorry to say, my in-laws know the method also. At the end of the day, apart from that one week a year, we consider ourselves from the same religious tradition. It wouldn't be right for me to check the kosher status of the food they've brought into their home. I can't ask them to change their way of living, not to buy certain products that they've always used, just because I've joined their family. I wouldn't even consider it.
And what do you tell the children? "You can eat Grandma X's Bamba, but not Grandma Y's"? Or how about: "Mom can eat rice at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but you can't."
I might be able to lie to myself, to try to convince myself that this is all reasonable. But my kids? What do I tell them when they ask, "But don't Grandma and Grandpa Y keep kosher?"
Redemption and exile
Our sages teach us that Pesach is the holiday of redemption. If so, why does it feel more like I'm in exile during Pesach than at any other time of the year? Why does my parent's ancestry and that of my in-laws suddenly become relevant now? Why can't one observant Jew sit down with another for a meal?
Everyone tells us "rabbis don't have enough courage." The truth is that I don't expect very much from haredi (ultra-Orthodox) rabbis. In their communities, the problem is just about non-existent.
The problem began when Ashkenazim and Sephardim began to intermarry, and so haredi rabbis are not really called upon to deal with the issue. But where are the Zionist rabbis?
Popular revolution
So here's the issue, clear and simple. I understand that you, dear rabbis, won't rescind the ban on kitniyot. What rabbi needs that kind of tsuris? The first guy that stands up and says it's okay for Ashkenazim to eat rice on Pesach will be denounced as "reform" or who knows what else.
I really do understand their dilemma, but I have no intention of continuing to observe prohibitions that you refuse to cancel. The Torah forbade us from eating chametz, leavened products, on Pesach. The ban on kitniyot (nobody really knows the reason for the ban) stems from a fear that some chametz might have fallen into the sacs of rice or beans. Nowadays, with modern packaging means and everything is well-checked, if Rabbi Ovadia Yosef isn't worried that wheat might have fallen into his rice, then neither am I.
I understand you don't have the power to overturn a custom the Jewish people, or at least some of them, have accepted upon themselves. I do understand, so let me help you out. This revolution, so badly needed, will not be brought about by the rabbis. It will come from the people. A grass-roots kitniyot revolution.
We will simply start eating kitniyot on Pesach. The practice will spread, because there won't be any choice. Because the reality of Ashkenazi sons-in-law and Sephardi daughters-in-law is stronger than custom or rabbinic decree. Because when it comes to choosing between celebrating our festival of freedom and feeling like I'm in exile – I choose life. I choose redemption.
Rabbis will come around
In another 10 or 20 years, maybe another generation or two, when people no longer remember where their parents immigrated to Israel from, you rabbis will also fall in line. You'll fall in line, because this kitniyot business will fall into the category of a decree the community can't uphold, or a decree that the community simply rejected. You'll fall in line because if you don't, you will simply cease to be relevant.
I think my late father is looking down at me from On High in amazement. I'm afraid my mother will read this piece and feel I don’t have enough respect for or pride in our family traditions.
But this step is not a break with the home I grew up in. It's not even a rebellion against tradition. I've made my choice out of great respect and love for the home I grew up in, and for the parents who raised me. When you made aliya, you chose to leave your "diaspora-ness" behind. You decided that Jews belong in the Land of Israel.
Something much stronger than exile brought you here, cut you off from the old country, and my choice now – a choice for Jewish unity, a choice to raise my children on the principle of the truth of one Jewish people, rather than collection of sectoral factions – is the completion of your journey.
Duvy Harel (29) works in hi-tech and lives in the community of Yad Binyamin
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