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!

Faith in Purpose

I'll be honest: Purim is not my favorite holiday. It's very noisy; there's a lot of alcohol involved; things are supposed to be mixed up and out of order. None of that meshes well with my aforementioned penchant for rules.

Still, Megillat Esther is some fabulous drama. One of my favorite moments occurs in chapter 4. Mordechai has just told Esther about Haman's plot to annihilate the Jews, and he calls upon Esther to go to the king and plead with him to save the Jewish people. Esther is doubtful that she could pull this off--who is she, to think that she could hold such power with the king? But Mordechai insists. He says, "...who knows? Perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis" (Book of Esther 4:14).

What I love about this part is the message that each of us is created to fulfill a unique purpose and that we should not doubt our ability to effect change. Initially, Esther does not present as a particularly self-confident or empowered woman. The text often refers to her in the passive voice: she "was taken," or she "would be summoned," etc. She is quiet, obedient, and eager to please. And yet...within her she has a spark, of which she is all but unaware. It is she who is best positioned to save the Jewish people, and this is not an accident. Esther has inside of her more power than she ever thought possible.

When I read this section of Megillat Esther, I am reminded that I, too, have a purpose in life that only I can serve. The same is true for each of us. The eating disorder has made us very good at believing that we are nothing special...when the truth is that Hashem created each of us to fulfill a need of the world. I'm reminded of one of my all-time favorite quotes, by Marianne Williamson:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

I think Esther would agree.

Intention Matters!

I love rules. Love them. Give me an open-ended task with no guidelines, and I become a ball of anxiety. How am I supposed to know how to do anything correctly, if no one explains the dos and don'ts? One of the things I found most reassuring about anorexia was the intricately detailed system of rules I created regarding food and exercise. Although completely arbitrary, the rules made me feel safe in the belief that if I followed them, nothing bad would happen to me.

Is it any wonder that I am pulled toward traditional Judaism? Look at all the rules!

I didn't begin increasing my level of religious observance until I was well on my way in recovery, but it still didn't take me long to realize that if I wasn't careful, the stringent regulations of traditional Judaism could become mere substitutions for the self-imposed rules of my eating disorder. I'd always been uncomfortable when other people paid attention to my physical body, so I was more than eager to sign up for religiously sanctioned modest dressing. And then, there were the negative commandments forming the basis for laws of kashrut and fasting. How comforting to know that if anorexia wouldn't be controlling what I ate, Hashem would be!

I knew that I did not have the luxury, as some people might, of just taking on rituals and rules without thinking them through. Covering one's body and restricting one's food options and intake might not be triggers for some people, but they definitely are for me. However, these are also important parts of traditional Judaism that I wanted to integrate into my life. How could I do that while still preserving the recovery for which I'd fought so hard?

For me, the key is intention. I need to do mitzvot for the right reasons, and this sometimes requires that I "re-frame" some thought patterns. Here are some examples:

Modest dressing:
Old thought: "Hey! I get to completely cover my body in shapeless skirts and long sleeves because Hashem wants me to! Now NO ONE will look at me! Awesome!"
New thought: "When I wear modest clothing, I am sending the message that my body is precious and not for just anyone to have access to. I can wear skirts and shirts that make me feel attractive while still letting others know that I value modesty."

Kashrut:
Old thought: "Now I have a whole new way to control what I eat and avoid scary foods...and it's totally justified because it's religious!"
New thought: "The idea behind kashrut is that eating should be a sacred act. It is one way I have of striving to be holy as Hashem is holy. Kashrut teaches discipline...by having some limitations on what I eat, I am acknowledging the presence of Hashem. But this does not have to lead to deprivation."

Fasting:
Old thought: "A whole day with no food!"
New thought: "If fasting becomes about weight control, I cannot allow myself to do it. Period. Fasting should be a way for me to focus on repentance, to turn my energy inward. To do it with the goal of food restriction is to completely miss the point."

Bottom line? Yes, it matters whether or not we do the mitzvot. But, it also matters what our intentions are as we do them. Human life has the highest value...the principle of pikuach nefesh clearly states that almost any negative commandment can be broken in order to save a life. If I twist the mitzvot into ways to perpetuate a life-threatening eating disorder, that is not what Hashem would want. As Jews in recovery, it is our responsibility not only to do mitzvot, but to do them with a pure heart, for the purposes for which they are intended.

Gone Kosher

As a Jew who doesn't particularly enjoy going to the movies or having hours of unstructured time, I tend to find Christmas Day to be somewhat challenging. It doesn't help that the day falls in the midst of the New England winter, making outdoor activities iffy at best. In the past, Christmas Day has often seemed interminable. This year, however, I had a plan: I kashered my kitchen.

This was not a spontaneous decision; rather, I'd worked my way up to it over a period of many weeks. I did some research; I consulted with my rabbis; I purchased necessary supplies. Being a vegetarian made the process somewhat easier. Also, I have a galley kitchen (fancy term for, "really small kitchen") so the amount of cleaning was less than it could have been. However, I still had to contend with all my pots, utensils, appliances, and countertops, so it took a solid four-and-a-half hours to complete the job. End result: my kitchen looks the same, albeit cleaner. What feels different is internal.

For most of my adult life, I'd tossed around the idea of "keeping kosher" but had never given it serious consideration, for the simple reason that I couldn't handle another set of food rules. I was too busy adhering to the rules dictated by my eating disorder. I made food choices based on nutrition information and my own set of fears, not based on whether or not the product in question had a hekhsher. My eating disorder called all the shots--what G-d wanted me to do was not even on my radar screen.

A lot of work has gone into my journey from that place of eating disordered tunnel vision, to my newly kashered kitchen. I am proud to say that now, when I go food shopping, my chief concern is kashrut--not calorie counting. I am able to see the distinction between the Jewish practice of being mindful of what I eat, and the eating disordered trap of being obsessed by it. Before, when (if) I ate with other people, what set me apart were all the rituals and regulations of anorexia. Now, I am making the choice to be set apart once more--this time, as a Jew who keeps kosher. The difference is that the former separation felt oppressive and driven by fear, while the latter feels like an opportunity to be closer to Hashem. It is up to me to keep my practice of kashrut one of pure intentions, and not let it morph into another way to restrict what I eat. The Jewish tradition is full of evidence that while certain foods are indeed prohibited, this by no means implies that we should deny ourselves any foods that are not--in fact, quite the opposite. For me, the truth is that I like keeping kosher in recovery--I like that I can eat with friends, bring food to share, and try new recipes...while still being mindful of my connection to Hashem and to this world.