"The Fast that I Desire"

In a few days, Yom Kippur will be upon us, bringing with it the ritual fast that is always a hot topic within the Jewish eating disorder community.  Understandably, many eating disorder clinicians  strongly encourage their patients not to fast, citing the principle that anyone whose health is in jeopardy should not fast.  It's true that there is a halachic loophole for people whose lives would truly be endangered by fasting; however, it's also true that determining who falls into this category is often complicated and, depending on one's level of observance, can entail consulting with learned Torah scholars in addition to medical professionals.  Then, there's the valid issue of wanting to be part of one's religious community and to participate in the Yom Kippur fast, which is an ancient rite and central to the observance of the holiday.  All this is to say that for a Jewish person with an eating disorder, choosing whether or not to fast is often not a simple decision.  Although I briefly outlined my own personal fasting philosophy here, even I have to admit that there is often way more to it than that.

For an individual who is torn between wanting to fast and acknowledging that it might not be the absolute best choice for recovery, the haftarah portion for Yom Kippur morning (Isaiah 57:14-58:14) offers some guidance.  In this text, the prophet Isaiah stresses that Hashem does not value fasting for fasting's sake alone; rather, He is satisfied only by fasting that is also accompanied by higher values of social responsibility.  The haftarah reads,


"Why, when we fasted, did You not see?
When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed?"
Because on your fast day
You see to your business
And oppress all your laborers!  
Because you fast in strife and contention,
And you strike with a wicked fist!
Your fasting today is not such
As to make your voice heard on high.
Is such the fast I desire,
A day for men to starve their bodies?
Is it bowing the head like a bulrush
And lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Do you call that a fast,
A day when the Lord is favorable?
No, this is the fast I desire:
To unlock fetters of wickedness,
And untie the cords of the yoke
To let the oppressed go free;
To break off every yoke.
It is to share your bread with the hungry,
And to take the wretched poor into your home;
When you see the naked, to clothe him,
And not to ignore your own kin.
(Isaiah 58:3-7)

Personally, I find the words of Isaiah to be a powerful tool of refocusing around the issue of fasting.  The truth is, there were many years when the Yom Kippur fast was, to me, just a religiously sanctioned excuse to avoid eating.  It was a day when I found a twisted sense of pleasure in inflicting discomfort on my own body, because I told myself that Hashem wanted me to do it.  In other words, the fast was an end in itself--not eating for the sake of not eating.

Isaiah tells us that to fast this way is to completely miss the point.

Given how complex and personal a decision it is whether or not to fast, I wouldn't feel comfortable making a blanket statement that people in recovery absolutely should not (or should) do it.  But, I would encourage anyone in recovery who feels internally pulled toward fasting to take time to honestly evaluate the motives behind that fast.  Are you fasting because you're secretly looking forward to denying yourself food for 25 hours?  Do you see this as a good excuse to violate your meal plan for a day?  Are you going to fast for appearance's sake alone?  If your honest answer to any of those questions is yes, I would invite you to consider Isaiah's words--such a fast does not please Hashem at all.  In the haftarah commentary of the Etz Hayim tanach, the commentator remarks, "He [the prophet] does not wholly condemn ritual acts such as fasting.  What he condemns is false piety, particularly when it is accompanied by deeds of oppression and wickedness." In other words, if fasting is just another way for you to oppress and mistreat yourself, perhaps that is not the best way for you to serve Hashem.

So, I'm not saying, "Don't fast."  What I am saying is, consider your intent, because it matters.  Tradition has value, but only when accompanied by actions that indicate kindness toward self and others.  Whatever you decide regarding fasting this year, I hope Yom Kippur brings you time to think about how you can start off the new year from a place of empathy, humility, and compassion, as these are key ingredients to living a truly Jewish--and Divinely inspired--life.

Considering Kitniyot

Oh, Pesach. So many food rules, so many opportunities for obsessive thinking. Now, I love the holiday's theme of liberation and take seriously the idea of "freeing myself from my own personal Egypt." However, I do think there's an element of irony involved: this holiday, which focuses so much on freedom, also plays right into the food restrictions and regulations that enslave so many people with eating disorders.

For me, nowhere is this struggle more pronounced than around the question of kitniyot. Every year I revisit the same question: Do I eat them, or not? Here are the particulars: I am Ashkenazi; I'm a vegetarian; I'm also fiercely protective of my recovery from almost a decade of anorexia. Each time Pesach rolls around, I have to decide which takes precedence: an ancestral custom that is hundreds of years old, or my internal wisdom that the severely limited diet of a kitniyot-free Pesach might inadvertently reawaken the food-restrictive mentality that I've worked so hard to put to bed.

Aside from the very real halachic issues involved, this dilemma also cuts to the heart of my perfectionist tendencies. If I were to eat kitniyot, would I be doing a "good enough" job of keeping Pesach? Would people find reason to look down on my lenience and criticize my choice? I believe the answer to both questions is yes. Undoubtedly, the norm among observant Ashkenazi Jews is to avoid eating kitniyot on Pesach. The decision to break with this custom would likely meet with some resistance from many members of the observant community. However, there is also the case to be made that where health is involved, the ban on kitniyot is not as stringent as the ban on chametz, and so people are permitted to eat kitniyot if their health requires it. Furthermore, there are Orthodox rabbis who have ruled that Ashkenazi Jews within the land of Israel are allowed to eat kitniyot because the custom of eliminating those foods was unique to Europe and therefore is not binding in the Middle East. Conservative Rabbi David Golinkin takes it a step further in his responsa, which clearly argues that all Jews may consume kitniyot during Pesach "without fear of transgressing any prohibition." Again, I fully recognize that these opinions run counter to the prevailing custom among the observant Ashkenazi community. However, their arguments seem valid, especially when recovery is at stake. I would encourage Ashkenazi Jews who are trying to recover from any type of eating disorder to consider giving themselves permission to eat kitniyot on Pesach. I would also suggest that if a person DOES choose to eat kitniyot as a means of safeguarding his/her recovery during Pesach, that family members attempt to view this decision not as a rebellion or transgression, but rather as a way to protect that which is most precious: health and life.

If you do plan to incorporate kitniyot into your Pesach food repertoire, here are some recipes to get you started! It's possible to find KP versions of all the needed ingredients. Both feature quinoa...because, as a vegetarian, I am always looking for new ways to use quinoa on Pesach! The first comes courtesy of fabulous nutritionist Marci Anderson; the second, from Mark Bittman, author of one of my favorite cookbooks (How To Cook Everything Vegetarian...in case you were wondering.)

Bean Salad with Quinoa

Sweet Potato and Quinoa Salad (when I make this, I add a 15 oz. can of garbanzo beans for a little added protein)


Chag kasher v'sameach!

Spring Cleaning!

Although it's a small space, I'm always grateful to live in a studio apartment when the time comes to clean it. Now, I love for things to be clean and as germ-free as I can get them. I just am not wild about the actual process of cleaning, and the scrubbing and dusting tends to get old pretty quickly. Luckily, my living space consists of only three rooms...but even so, I take a lot of shortcuts: cleaning around things instead of under them; making neat piles instead of actually finding homes for everything, etc. This works relatively well most of the time, with one big exception: Pesach.

The pre-Pesach clean is no ordinary task. On Pesach we are forbidden not only to eat chametz, but also to have it anywhere in our possession. As a result, Jews all over the world engage in a thorough cleaning of their homes in the days leading up to Pesach, scouring every surface and searching every crevice for any sign of chametz. We have to get rid of all of it--not one crumb of edible chametz can remain behind. Clearly, this process is an intensive undertaking.

The annual Pesach cleaning reminds me a lot of the work that a real commitment to recovery requires. On Pesach, it is not acceptable to allow traces of chametz to remain in your home. The presence of even a tiny amount creates a halachic problem and prevents you from fulfilling the mitzvah of getting rid of chametz. Similarly, being fully on board with recovery requires a person to eradicate all traces of the eating disorder. As long as someone knowingly hangs onto small behaviors or thought patterns, he or she cannot fully participate in recovery. I definitely have found this to be true. There were plenty of times when I said I was committed to getting rid of my eating disorder, but I kept a little ritual or restrictive habit here and there in the hope that it wouldn't really matter, that I could enjoy recovery without having to get rid of everything. I have never found that to actually work. The only way I've been able to be wholly committed to recovery--and to fully experience it--is to actively search out the remnants of my eating disorder and tackle each one until I am ready to let go of it. There have been no shortcuts to this "soul cleaning"...leaving even a trace of the eating disorder behind would make all my efforts incomplete.

The Sages instructed us to physically destroy all of our chametz before Pesach because they knew that if we allowed it to remain in our possession, we might end up consuming it...or, we would just think about consuming it all the time! I've found this to be true in recovery, as well: getting rid of the concrete remains of the eating disorder (not just the emotional ones) is often a valuable and cathartic experience. At various points in my journey, I gave away my "sick" clothes, threw out diet food, ditched the bathroom scale, and recycled so-called "health" magazines, because I knew that hanging onto any of those things was going to keep me from fully living in recovery. Physically ridding my environment of those eating disorder symbols was hugely significant...and, let's be honest, it felt glorioiusly empowering! I would encourage anyone in the process of fighting an eating disorder to consider doing the same.

This year, as I prepare to tackle the Pesach cleaning, I am reminded of the importance of looking inward to see what internal "chametz" I need to get rid of. Are there any thought patterns, habits, or belief systems that are keeping me stuck in an uncomfortable space? Are there things I am hanging onto simply because they are familiar, even if they have outlived their usefulness? Now is the time to get rid of them. I hope we can all take this opportunity to clean not only our homes, but also our selves, so that we may enter into Pesach with our hearts and minds pure and shining.