Turning up the heat

Today I was reminded about why I am a proud Reform Jew.

I slept gloriously late on this Shabbat morning. I got up and found my way to the kitchen, where an intense discussion was underway. It seems that the cholent pot, containing the slow-cooking traditional Shabbat stew, had been set on “low” before Shabbat, and there was concern that it had not cooked enough, and wouldn’t be fully cooked through for lunch, three hours hence.

A debate was raging. Could someone go over to Pearlstone, find a two-year old, bring them to the kitchen, and place them in front of the cholent pot until they happened, in innocent play, to turn the pot from low to high?

The discussion went on and on as I sat and ate my Cheerios. How old could the child be? Three was deemed too old, as they would no longer simply play, but need to be told what to do, and it was forbidden to instruct someone to turn the heat up, because it’s against Jewish law to benefit from the product of intentionally telling someone to violate Shabbat. In good halakhic form, one person told a story of a time when they were in a house where a major fuse blew, and one of the heads of household held a small child in front of the fuse box and said something like, “wow, Sammy, do you see anything to play with?”

Then, a woman in the process of conversion to Judaism said that she has to do one thing each Shabbat to violate the laws of the day, and she’d be willing to turn the pot up. Another lengthy discussion ensued, in which it was established that as long as no one had asked her to turn the pot up, and as long as it would redound to her benefit (ie. that she herself would be eating the cholent), the rest of us, if we happened to benefit from her self-interested actions, would be fine to consume it. She went and turned up the heat.

Having listened to what seemed to me a crazy conversation, especially in light of the fact that there is a ton of other food available for consumption in the kitchen, I blurted out something I now regret in front of the gathered group of 5 or 6 of my fellow intentional-community cohorts: “This,” I said, “is why I am a Reform Jew.”

I now sit here typing away furiously on this box that halakhah prohibits me from using on Shabbat, feeling terrible about having uttered what must have sounded a horribly judgmental statement. I really and truly feel bad—it was unlike me to do something like that.

It’s not an excuse, but I know that whatever my ideal Shabbat looks like, it’s not in that discussion. I get turning the cholent on and then not doing any formal cooking on Shabbat—I actually really like to idea, and intend to try it when I get home. I get regretting that it was set on low, and bemoaning the fact that what should have been outstandingly tasty beans and potatoes will alas go to waste; this fits in with a religious ethic of letting go of some sense of control on Shabbat. What I don’t get in any way, shape, or form, is how luring in an unwitting baby into the kitchen, hoping (but not asking in any way) that the child might accidentally turn the pot up makes any sense at all. What I don’t accept as a part of my halakhah is how the concept of a Shabbes goy can be acceptable Jewish ethics. I admit that, early on in the conversation, I had half a mind to just go in and turn it up.

But if knew one thing, it was that I wasn’t going to be the Shabbes Reform Rabbi. I like intellectual discussions and debates as much as anyone. But to me, there’s a point where the discussion has to end. Either someone turn the pot up, or get out the cold (but yummy) pasta from last night. But if ritual practice in meant to lead to righteous living in the larger world, what are we teaching when we ask (in however veiled a way) our two year olds and our potential Jews by choice to do what we ourselves are unwilling to defile ourselves by doing?

Let Shabbat be a special time for honesty and straightforwardness in our dealings.
Let it be a time of simplicity rather than intense complexity.

Postscript:

When I returned to the moadon to apologize after hiding out, stewing, thinking, and writing for two hours, I found a few interesting things:

1) No one had actually been mad about my comment; some found it funny.

2) For a few people, the comment actually sparked curiosity about Reform Judaism, both in specific regard to this issue, and also more generally an interest in Reform Judaism in general

3)One Orthodox woman shocked me when she admitted quietly, "Yeah, I also was thinking what a ridiculous debate we were having!"

What a strange people we are...