Almost Kosher

I have a shirt around somewhere that reads, “Almost Kosher.”  Like the rest of my favorite shirts, it tells a story about me.*  Like most stories about me, it makes little sense to me, and is gibberish to everyone else.  This one seems worth trying to explain.  If you understand it, I’d appreciate it if you let me know what it means.

I suppose the fact I don’t know where it is says something about me too, but I think what it is says is that Becky and I have different definitions of the term well worn. 

I keep almost kosher.  I don’t eat shellfish.  I love chicken parmesan.  I don’t eat pig products.  I buy non-kosher meat.  I fast for Yom Kipper.  I don’t generally go to services.  I eat matzah for eight days.  Sometimes it has a cheeseburger on it.

Now you might think that because I pick and choose what I do that these have no meaning.   For me, picking what to do is what gives it the meaning.  Everything I do, I do because that thing means something to me.  If I see no purpose in it, like separating out milk and meat, then I don’t do it.     

Rosh Hashanah is about apples and honey, which is enough to carry any holiday.  Yom Kipper is about taking break from the day-to-day world, reflecting and asking forgiveness.  About joining Nanny for the 2^nd shift of services. About willpower, mind over matter, and the joy and appreciation of tuna fish on a bagel that only comes when you haven’t eaten for 26 hours.  Passover is about family, friends, feasting, storytelling, and sneaking the radio on to check baseball scores with my cousin.   Hanukah is about lighting candles and predicting the order in which they burn.  About spinning dreidels and waiting on the couch for presents. 

These things are important to me, and I don’t want to lose them.  When possible, I want to share them with others, particularly those without much experience with Judaism.   I think, in general, Jews don’t do a great job of this, preferring to focus on keeping the tribe together.  While it is nice that Jews are not prophesizing on street corners, I think the insular nature of the Jewish people has contributed to the perceptions others have about the religion.    

So, I like hosting Seders.   Sharing the food, the story, and the songs of Passover to those who have little experience with any of it.  In the words of Jeremy from Sports Night, “Passover's about the telling of a great story to those who've never heard it. Usually it's small children, but, you know, gentiles* will do.”  I learn stuff too.  Like one should never try to hard boil an egg in the microwave and the person who is walking past the door outside is probably not named Elijah.

Another benefit of hosting gentile is that you can substitute us with me.  God chose me has a nice ring to it.

I also get to add in other people’s traditions.  After all, if things are important to people I care about they become meaningful to me too.  Bonus points if the traditions come with presents and gluttony.  We have a Christmas tree non-denominational holiday shrub.  It’s filled with ornaments of glass balls and Mickey Mouse, of menorahs and dreidels, and everything else we enjoy that can be displayed in miniaturized form.

There are, I’m afraid, exceptions to the almost kosher.  I remain complex and contradictory.  For example, if I am traveling I feel a need to experience the norms of other cultures rather than my own.    And here I thought I was beginning to understand myself.  Oh well, maybe next time.