
Two years ago, before the Agriprocessors labor scandal made news, Rabbi Natan Margalit and his wife, Ilana, struggled with the prevailing ethical standards of the kosher meat industry.
Commercially available kosher chickens were forced to endure confining living conditions. Even chickens sold under a popular kosher organic label, though technically free-range, were rarely allowed to venture beyond their coops. And truck delivery of those chickens across hundreds of miles exacted a substantial carbon footprint.
The Margalits wanted to eat local, organic, grass-fed, free-range chickens that were also kosher, but no provider could satisfy all those criteria. So they took matters into their own hands—literally.
That spring Ilana learned of a farmer willing to produce such chickens in Barre, Mass., a small town on the outskirts of Worcester. With three other couples, the Margalits ordered 100 chickens from the farmer. The following July, when the chickens had matured, Margalit helped to prepare the chickens for consumption.
Holding the chickens while the shochet slaughtered them in accordance with the laws of kashrut, he thanked each one silently as it met its fate. Then came the arduous task of plucking.
"Typically, you put the recently slaughtered chicken into a device that resembles an open washing machine, and hot water loosens the skin and feathers," he explains. "But kashrut prohibits the use of hot water because it effectively cooks the blood into the chicken. With cold water, however, the automatic plucker is not very effective.
"So the farmer, extended family and neighbors helped me to pluck each chicken by hand. It took all day; I had to leave before they finished."
Soon after, as Ilana and Natan prepared to eat one of the carefully prepared chickens, he wondered how he would feel, having just seen the birds alive. "I found that being closer to the process only made the experience of eating richer and more real," he says. "I felt I was eating responsibly."
That experience marked the first harvest of a growing cooperative to bring "eco-kosher" chicken to households in Greater Boston. With dozens of members signed on this year, Margalit aims to order 300 more chickens from the same farmer. "This time we'll make sure we'll have a lot of volunteers to pluck," he says.
The cooperative is just the latest of Margalit's efforts to fuse Jewish and environmental ethics. Since the early 1990s, he has written and taught widely on the subject and participated in an interfaith program that incorporates ecological responsibility into traditional dietary practices. Today he serves as faculty advisor for a student environmental committee that seeks to incorporate green practices at Hebrew College.
"My approach to Judaism comes back to a sense of aliveness; it's about constantly striving for integration between physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual worlds," says Margalit, who spent 12 years doing just that as an oleh in Israel. "Today I want kashrut to be not just about fulfilling technical religious requirements, but also a way of raising consciousness about the entire journey of the food from the farm to my plate."
—Mark Dwortzan
Mark Dwortzan is a freelance writer living in Newton, Mass.