The Inner Pig

B"H.


How Fake Is a Faker?
By Yosef Y. Jacobson

Seven Refrigerators

The rule in Israel at one time was that a new immigrant could bring in normal household items duty free. But anything that looked like as if it was for resale in Israel was supposed to be subject to import duty.

Mr. Levine, a new oleh, goes to the Haifa port to claim his household goods that have arrived by ship at last. The officer notices on the manifest that the new arriver is bringing in seven refrigerators.

"Mr. Levine," says the officer, "one refrigerator is allowed duty free, not seven."

"But I'm very religious, and I need one refrigerator just for meat, one just for dairy, and one just for parve (neither dairy or deli)," says Mr. Levine.

"All right," says the officer with a sigh, "that makes three. But seven?" "Well, of course," says the man, "I need three for most of the year and another three, meat, dairy, and parve, for Passover."

"OK," says the officer, losing patience. "That makes six. What's the seventh one for?"

"So nu, what if I like to eat a little treif (non-kosher) once in a while?"

The Swine’s Return
A fascinating midrashic tradition states that when redemption comes to our world, the pig will become a kosher animal.

In fact, the rabbis pointed out that the Hebrew name for a pig is “chazir,” which also has the meaning of “it will return.” The very name for the pig, then, signifies the fact that one day, when the Moshiach (Messiah) will arrive, the pig will make its way back to Jewish life and into Jewish stomachs (1).

That’s perhaps good news for those of us who have envied our gentile brothers and lusted for a ham sandwich or a Bacon & Eggs special. Finally, the Sabbath Kiddish (reception after prayers) will serve more than just cholent, shmaltz herring and marble cake. Finally, the bar mitzvah smorgasbords will serve the “real thing,” not just imitations of non-kosher food.

But why the pig? From among all non-kosher animals, what is it about the pig that would merit the privilege of becoming part of the kosher menu?

If anything, the opposite should be true. The pig has received a very bad rap in the collective Jewish psyche over the years. It has always been the personification of un-kosherness. It is not uncommon to find Jews who say "I may not keep kosher, but at least I don't eat pig!" Although a pig is no more un-kosher than a cheeseburger or a lobster, the pig has something about it that personifies the antithesis to Judaism. Yet, paradoxically, it is only the pig that will one day become kosher for Jewish consumption!

The Two Signs
This week’s Torah portion states (2) that there are two signs by which we identify a kosher species of animal. The first sign is that it has split hooves. The second sign is that it chews its cud, meaning that after swallowing its food, the animal regurgitates it from the first stomach to its mouth to be chewed and swallowed again. This regurgitated food is called "cud."

So, for example, the cow, goat, sheep and gazelle possess both these characteristics and are thus deemed kosher. The donkey and the horse, on the other hand, lack both of these features, and they are defined as non-kosher animals. The pig, which has split hooves but does not chew its cud, and the camel, which chews its cud but has no split hooves, are not kosher.

The Fraud
Now the first sign is easy to spot — just look at the hooves. But the second is not so apparent. You have to study an animal's digestive system to know if it chews its cud. And this is what makes the pig so unique: It is the only animal in the world that appears to be kosher on the outside because it has split hooves, but on the inside is really not kosher, since it doesn't chew its cud.

That is why Judaism has symbolically denigrated the pig-like quality. Every other non-kosher animal is up front about its identity. The fox says "I don't have split hooves, so I'm just not kosher. Sorry." But the pig presents a kosher facade. "Look," it declares, "I have split hooves, just like a kosher animal should!" But what lies hidden behind that kosher veneer is a non-kosher interior: it doesn't chew its cud. And one of most repulsive things in life is to put up a holy facade when your insides are rotten (3).

Which only makes the question stronger: Why will the “fraudulent” animal become kosher during the time of Moshiach, when the world will supposedly become a much truer and more honest place?

External Deeds
To answer this, let us address in more subtle terms the type of human behavior that has come, in Jewish tradition, to resemble the pig. If I do a favor to a person, not because I genuinely wish to help them out but because I crave their admiration and love, I have, symbolically speaking, displayed split hooves, but I do not chew my cud. My apparence is kosher and gracious, but my inner self is non-kosher and selfish.

How many of us can state honestly that our acts of morality, goodness and kindness lack ulterior motives? How many of us are out there writing, speaking, inspiring, sharing and giving primarily because we crave the fame, the power, the influence, the money, the attention and the validation? How many of us share our time, wealth and energy for the honor that will follow or for the sense of selfish satisfaction that it gives us?

A mentor once told me these words: “When you conclude a speech and somebody approaches you and says, ‘Rabbi Jacobson, you were unbelievable; I love you,’ you ought to know that you were a failure. Because the speech was all about yourself. But if when you culminate your words, a man approaches you and says, ‘you know, rabbi, now I love my wife so much more,’ then you know that you were a success story, because the speech was about them, not about you!”

When there is fragmentation in our identity between the outer and the inner, we are in some way emulating the pig. Externally, we are doing the right and kosher thing; internally, we are decadent, self-serving and non-kosher.

This does not mean, of course, that we should cease to help people or engage in any other virtuous deed as long as our insides are still impure, as long as our ambitions are fueled by egocentricity. If my ego is driving me to hurt other people, I must cease my behavior immediately; but if my ego is causing me to help people, so be it! If your charity contribution, motivated by a quest for honor, will help a poor family in need, who cares about your intentions? In our world, actions, rather than feelings, are what count most.

On the other hand, though, we must not neglect our character flaws, and fail to reflect and work on our inner selves. The Torah always emphasizes the primacy of deed over intention, but still enjoins us to challenge our inner “pigs” and work hard on self-refinement and rectification.

And yet it this very animal, the pig, that will become kosher when Moshiach comes. What is the message behind this?

Beyond the Selfishness
There is a moving and profound Chassidic teaching, which has its origin in an idea articulated by the Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760), the founder of the Chassidic movement. The idea states that beneath every selfish motive to do a good deed lays a subconscious spiritual quest to do the same thing for moral and idealistic reasons (4).

Say you attend a wedding and you engage in a skillful and esthetic dance with the sole intention of impressing the guests with your athletic skills and your artistic abilities. You are engaging in the great mitzvah of increasing the joy of a groom and the bride, but you are doing it for purely self-centered considerations.

The Chassidic masters make the claim that your conscious selfish ambition is an outgrowth of an inner subconscious quest stemming from your G-dly, idealistic soul that yearns to bring joy to a newly wedded bride and groom beginning their mutual life together as two halves of a single soul reunited after decades of separation.

In other words, the self-centered and egotistical motivation fueling your positive behavior is in iteself a façade eclipsing something even deeper — the purity and integrity of your divine spark pining to serve its creator and be there sincerely for another human being.

Hence, when Moshiach will arrive and the human being and the entire world will become transparent, when the outer layer of life will reflect its inner soul, we will come to realize that the “pig” is a kosher animal (5). We will discover that all those acts that seemed external, hollow and shallow were, in truth, symptoms of a soul on fire to serve G-d and to light up the lives of His children. When redemption comes to our world, we will discover that our outer “kosherness” was not fraudulent, not a façade eclipsing our true inner “un-kosherness." On the contrary: Every time you reached out to help a fellow human being, each time you engaged in a mitzvah, you were expressing the truest and most essential dimension of your identity (6).
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Footnotes:
1) Rabanu Bechayei to Leviticus 11:7 in the name of Midrash Tanchumah. Or Hachaim to Leviticus ibid.
2) Leviticus chapter 11.
3) See Rashi to Genesis
4) See Keser Shem Tov section 194. Likkutei Sichos vol. 20 pp. 51-53 and references noted there.
5) See Or Hachaim to Leviticus 11:7 who explains that when Moshiach comes the pig will begin to chew its cud. In other words, the pig will indeed become kosher also on the inside. Cf. Pardas Yosef to Leviticus ibid. for an elaborate halachik discussion on how this will deem the pig permissible for consumption.
6) This essay is based on Bas Ayin to Parshas Shmini and Likkutei Sichos vol. 20 ibid.
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