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Micro-Shechitah; Local, Seasonal, Organic, & Kosher

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[Y]ou may slaughter and eat meat in any of your settlements, according to the blessing that the Lord you God has granted you. But you must not partake of the blood; you shall pour it on the ground, like water…[Y]ou may slaughter any of the cattle or sheep that the Lord gives you, as I have instructed you… Deuteronomy 12:15-16, 21, 23-25

Those rules for slaughter were given 2000 years ago. This story began only about eight years ago, in 2001, when two members of the Reconstructionist congregation in Keene, New Hampshire in which I was serving as rabbi met with me to talk about their plans to move to a farming community. Their goal was to be a part of a sustainable organic farm and land trust where they would raise the sheep along with some crops and animals in a manner that accorded with Jewish values. Their quest prompted me to explore, in depth, the Jewish laws of shechitah, or kosher slaughter.

I myself was not a meat eater at that point. I had stopped eating meat when I was living on a kibbutz in the Negev in 1989. My decision then had come when I had to work a midnight shift in the chicken coop catching chickens for slaughter. However, I had begun already to consider how I would re-introduce animal protein into my diet, but in a way that would match the values of the rest of the food I was trying to consume—kosher, local, seasonal and organic.

Kosher certification would certainly not be enough. I was growing alarmed at the news stories about the treatment of both animals and workers at some kosher slaughterhouses. It was equally disturbing to see at that time the prices of these new “kosher” meats were dropping lower than other established lines of kosher meats.

In many ways, I did not like the idea of making any meat “cheap” to buy. Jewish teachings convey the notion that the animal has a life that needs to be treated as holy by the laws of shechitah. These values indicated to me that, not only in death, but also in life, the treatment of the animal would need to be at the highest ethical level possible. Our tradition understands the eating of meat to be something permitted, but not necessarily encouraged. Raising and slaughtering animals for food must be undertaken in the context of all of our values.

Shechitah

The Jewish values around animal consumption are found in the laws of shechitah. After my congregants and I spoke, one of them, Craig, and I began to jointly study the finer points about the laws of shechitah. One passage that resonated with me and Craig was the rule that a quota cannot be placed on the number of animals a shochet can shecht on a given day, because when a shochet takes a life, it makes a mark on his soul. In fact, the shochet is required to say a blessing when the blood spills from the animal, “Blessed are you, Creator, who has brought us from dust to dust.” I understood these rules to mean that each animal has a soul, and that the taking of a life impacts you— your demeanor and emotions–even when you have kavvanah (full focus). So if one is to work as a shochet in a full time capacity, I understood that this could mean there is a great impact on the soul, and would be an aspect of this work that I would need to keep watch over.

What could we do spiritually to help clean our souls after taking a life? We realized that when practicing shechitah, we would need to utilize traditional Jewish rituals such as the mikvah (ritual immersion) and teshuvah (process of repentance) to help ourselves and our souls through this process. Also, we would have to find or create some new rituals along the way.

Becoming a Shochet

The little I understood about shechitah before studying was that there needed to be the shochet who did the slaughtering and a mashgi’ach, a witness, who would approve the overall process of the slaughter and the soaking and salting that are vital to kosher meat preparation. For reasons of conflict of interest, the slaughterer and the witness could not be the same person.

When I began, I imagined that Craig would be shechting and I, as mashgi’ach, would be witnessing. My task would be to hold the spiritual space of this act in as much of a holy and elevated space as I could. After all, he had raised the sheep and they were going to provide his family and friends with food for the season.

The first time I actually practiced shechitah was with chickens. Craig also raised a few chickens, and another farmer who worked the same communal land trust had a set of chickens that he also wanted to slaughter that day.

That morning, I davenned (prayed), focusing my thoughts so that when I arrived at the farm, I would be in the best mental and spiritual space.

The chickens were collected and placed on a line suspended by their legs in groups of four. The chickens were quite calm. The effect of hanging them upside down makes them woozy and calm naturally. As I watched the other farmer begin, I said the blessing to myself, “…al ha shechitah” and said the Hebrew phrase, “The Lord has given, the Lord has taken, blessed is the name of the Lord, as has become my practice as a way of elevating a spiritual moment of death. The process was very quick. The sharp knife immediately did the job. Each bird was left to drain. A group of farm helpers waited the de-feathering and eviscerating process.

Micah Becker-Klein

Rabbi Micah salting chickens

After these other birds were completed, we did the other chickens, the ones we wanted to be kosher. Craig and I said the brachah together, and then proceeded to shecht the first one. Before each chicken we said the blessing. After he completed the first four, I prepared the next round. I found it powerful handling each of the chickens myself while engaging each of the living creatures with the brachah from my lips to the act. The first one was astounding to me. Craig asked me if I wanted to continue, and I said, “Yes.” I did the next three. Each one was a moment of connection and understanding.

Slaughtering a living creature was difficult for me emotionally, and yet I felt a moment of tikkun, the Jewish term that refers to a holy repair of the world. This was a process filled with kavannah (focus). The chickens were raised with freedom, love, and attention. The tikkun of making the process for these few souls a holy process where other ways of preparing meat or fowl is so far removed from respect for the animal from birth to the moment of death was powerful. It was a mitzvah. I felt it.

Sheep

In the years since that first experience, we have become skilled and focused in our work. Our first year with the sheep, we were nervous, wanting to ensure that we were following each of the aspects of kashrut, and wanting to make sure were would be able to carry out the process to its conclusion on that day. We now have a ritual, however, that satisfies our concern for the sheep and ourselves.

We begin in a circle outside the barn at around 8:30 in the morning. We check in with another, not only about our physical needs and tools, but our emotional and spiritual well-being. A day of slaughter is an intense day. This morning circle will not be the last time we take some time to see how every one is doing on this day.

The sheep are shechted one at a time. Craig has set aside in a holding area in the barn the ones that need to be separated. We are careful in our language not to say anything definitive like, “These are the sheep we are going to kill today.” We say, “This is our intention. Let’s see where we get.” It is part of our understanding of the Jewish law that states a shochet cannot have a quota of animals to slaughter on a given day. Each animal must be given its own proper time and inspected before and after the shecht.

Micah Becker-Klein

Jacob Sheep

As Craig leads out the first sheep, I stand nearby with the shechting knife, sharpener, and a cloth. As he sets the sheep on its back legs, it appears as if the animal is sitting up. Just as hanging the chickens upside down makes them woozy, sitting the sheep on their back legs has the same effect. Within thirty seconds, the animal is almost asleep. Craig then inspects the neck for the proper place to cut. I watch him to make sure each of his steps is correct. The knife (chalaf in Hebrew) must be twice as long as the animal’s neck. This is to make sure that at no time during the shecht would the whole knife be used, and therefore helping assure a smooth cut with even force.

At this moment, Craig and I check in with each other and the process. I lead him through the blessing, which he repeats after me, and then makes the cut. The animal immediately drops. After twenty seconds or so, the animal’s legs will pump seven to ten times. This automatic muscle and nerve movement actually helps expunge the blood from the body. After the movement has ceased, we move the sheep to be hung where it can drain. I immediately spread sawdust on the ground and recite the blessing “Baruch atah…al kisui dam be’afar.”

We first slaughter all the sheep for that day, and then the processing begins. First the animal must have its skin removed. When the organs and innards are removed, I inspect the heart, liver, and lungs for discoloration or lesions. We separate the edible organs for kosher processing. The sheep is then cut into quarters, and we soak the parts in a huge tub of fresh cold water for at least thirty minutes. Next the meat is removed and placed on a table for the salting process. The kosher salt helps draw out any blood that has not already been removed by soaking. After at least one hour, we thoroughly rinsed the salt off of the meat and table, ready to be butchered and bagged.

By dusk, we are finished. The farm families’ supply of animal protein for the season, lies before us. Each time I engage in this process, I feel a deep connection to this source of food, a recognition of the energy that it takes to move it from farm to table, and a great appreciation for the people who help create that network so most of us can just go to a supermarket, purchase our food needs, and go home.

In a way, I have stepped back a few generations into the world of my great-grandparents. I felt much the same way each time I have done this work. Here in the 21st century, I stand between my great-grandparents and my future. I hope that I will be a part of creating a sustainable and engaging future.