CJL: Jews and pigs over the ages

By Rabbi Rachel Esserman

Regular readers of this column might be puzzled: Didn’t she already review a book about the history of Jews and pigs? Those asking this question would be remembering my 2021 review of the excellent “Evolution of a Taboo: Pigs and People in the Ancient Near East” by Max D. Price. (You can read that article here.) However, as a person interested in anthropology and sociology, I am endlessly fascinated by food customs. That’s true of food customs across the world, but, as a rabbi, the study of the history of kashrut (Jewish food customs and laws) holds a special interest. I was thrilled, therefore, when I learned that one of my favorite Jewish food historians, Jordan D. Rosenblum, had written a new book. I’d been impatiently awaiting the publication of his “Forbidden: A 3,000-Year History of Jews and Pigs” (New York University Press) and the wait was worth it. Rosenblum’s book not only shows why the pig stands out as the symbol for foods Jews will not eat (or, sometimes, deliberately eat), but also offers interesting tidbits about the history of that development. For puns lovers, the work features some real groaners, proving the author also has a sense of humor. 

Rosenblum is interested in how the pig became what he calls “a litmus test for Jewish/non-Jewish identity and practice.” He notes that he “refer[s] to the animal in question as ‘the pig,’ rarely referring to it as ‘pork’ or ‘bacon’ or ‘ham.’ In doing so, I want to remind us that the pig is so much more than just food. It is also both an embodied and metaphorical nonhuman animal, which is being used to stake various claims about the identities of human animals.” At one point in history, the pig became “The Pig,” an entity that also referred to ancient Rome, the civilization that conquered Jerusalem and destroyed the Second Temple. It was at that time that, according to Rosenblum, “biblical Israel moves from Judean tribe to Jewish religion.” Following the dietary rules then became a major symbol of Jewish identity. 

This plays out in the martyrdom narratives Rosenblum relates from the Greco-Roman period. People allowed themselves to be killed, rather than eat pig. That is what makes the pig stand out as a symbol of something more than food, as the author cleverly notes in the title of his chapter about contemporary America, “No Jew Ever Died Refusing to Eat Shrimp.” Rosenblum writes, “While biblical texts treat the pigs as just one of a several categorically nonkosher animals, now it was singled out and endowed with greater significance. With the development of the Second Temple Period of pig as a litmus test for Jewish identity and practice... From this era on, to eat the hare, the rock badger, or the camel simply does not carry the same transgressive weight as does eating the pig.” That’s because, from that time onward, not eating pig meat could be dangerous, particularly for those Jews living in Europe. 

Eating or not eating pigs came to define not only Judaism, but Christianity, particularly during the Medieval Period. Jewish identity was tied to pigs in unusual ways. For example, Christianity came to identify physical Jews with physical pigs. It was thought that the reason Jews didn’t eat pigs was because pigs and Jews were biologically related. Pigs also became a symbol of vice and therefore a symbol of Judaism, which is strange considering the Jewish aversion to pigs. Drawings and sculptures showed Jews drinking pig’s milk directly from the sow’s teats. In Spain, Conversos, Jews who converted to Christianity, were referred to Marranos (pigs), which was a derogatory term, and their diets carefully watched to see whether they ate pig’s meat or kept any part of the Jewish dietary laws. If they were accused of avoiding pig, they risked being tortured and/or killed by the Inquisition. There were so-called humorous songs or stories that told of Jews being outwitted and forced to eat pig. Actually consuming pig was considered so important a religious marker that it was said that the Jew who ate pig converted to Christianity by that action.

Rosenblum’s discussion of the contemporary period shows that the complex relationship between Jews and pig continues. His discussion of Israel notes that, while parts of the population would prefer if everyone kept the laws of kashrut, some Israelis show their rejection of Judaism by eating pig. He notes that “while for religious Jewish Israelis, to ban the pig is a symbolic victory against religious oppression by non-Jews, now for secular Israelis, to permit the pig is a symbolic victory against religious oppression by religious Jews... secular Israelis use pig to intentionally transgress Jewish law and, in doing so, to establish a new – and highly contested – Jewish identity.” The pig as a symbol is also used in Israeli culture for something that is disapproved of, for example, those who compare women carrying Torahs at the Western Wall to pigs carrying Torahs. 

The chapter focusing on contemporary America offers a variety of interesting tidbits. Rosenblum notes that, in memoirs written by formerly Orthodox and Chasidic Jews, eating pig is considered particularly transgressive. That first taste of pig seems to be a major step in their journey to secular living. The author notes instances in film and television where the non-eating of pig is used to symbolize that someone might be Jewish. In addition, he writes of the wonderful children’s book “Baxter, the Pig Who Wanted to Be Kosher,” noting the book would not be as funny if Baxter were a camel or other animal forbidden by the Bible. 

One need not be a scholar to read “Forbidden.” Rosenblum has written a popular history that’s perfect for those with no previous experience in its subject matter. The work allows readers to ponder the ways Jewish and non-Jewish identity can be expressed through food. Fans of Rosenblum will now be impatiently waiting for his next book.