Shattered Dreams
We are in Israel, walking around Bayit Vegan, near Beis. I am with Menachem, who left Mercaz, and Yonason, who was kicked out. There are others there as well, like Avi and possibly Dudi and probably Nachy.
It is Lag BaOmer, and we need to find wood for a BBQ. All around us, there are bonfires, but we have meat, and now we need a flame to cook that meat. Menachem has two steaks. There are hot dogs as well. Enough for everyone.
I am one of those chosen to find wood, while others are given the task of finding the right place for the BBQ. They find a sand box in a playground, and park themselves. We find wood piled near people's doors, and we swipe it. I think we are caught once, but we return the wood and get it from another house.
Finally we have enough wood, and the BBQ is on, when tragedy strikes. It is staggering to think about what was involved up to this point, but lets try. A cow and bull frolick in the meadow. Months later, a calf is born. This calf grows up, being cared for by ranchers who feed it and watch it and wait for it to get big enough to kill. The animal, which has lived in Nebraska its whole life, now finds itself in a crowded pen, but the worst is still to come.
The cow reaches the front of the line. She is ready. This is what she was born to do. She sticks her neck out, and seconds later, she is dead. She is processed, packaged, and put in a refrigerated truck, bound for Brooklyn. Tragic as it sounds, though, the worst is yet to come.
Menachem's father walks into a Brooklyn butcher, and picks up the piece of meat. He has a son learning in Jerusalem, a son who would be proud to do justice to the cow who gave its life up for food. A cow who dreamed sweet cow dreams of landing on a grill and being served alongside some potatoes or fries.
A cow who never thought she would be priveleged to be eaten in Jerusalem, but secretly harbored that wish.
Menachem's father goes on a plane, the meat in a carry-on bag, frozen. It gets to Israel, and sits in a freezer for a few weeks, while Menachem finds the perfect time to eat the steak.
The perfect time is now. It is Lag BaOmer, and there are fires all around us that are worthy of this cow, whose only dream other than being eatin in Jerusalem was to be cooked on a fire that was made for a mitzvah like Lag BaOmer.
The hot dogs are on sticks, the steak on a makeshift grate, when it happens. One of the steaks falls off the grate into the fire. The cows dreams have been shattered. She gave and gave and gave to be able to be killed and eaten and cooked in jerusalem, and now the dream is over.
Rescue efforts are attempted, but not successful. Menachem will eat one of the steaks, the other lies on the floor, adding fuel to the fire of that Lag BaOmer night.
Happy Lag BaOmer.
It is Lag BaOmer, and we need to find wood for a BBQ. All around us, there are bonfires, but we have meat, and now we need a flame to cook that meat. Menachem has two steaks. There are hot dogs as well. Enough for everyone.
I am one of those chosen to find wood, while others are given the task of finding the right place for the BBQ. They find a sand box in a playground, and park themselves. We find wood piled near people's doors, and we swipe it. I think we are caught once, but we return the wood and get it from another house.
Finally we have enough wood, and the BBQ is on, when tragedy strikes. It is staggering to think about what was involved up to this point, but lets try. A cow and bull frolick in the meadow. Months later, a calf is born. This calf grows up, being cared for by ranchers who feed it and watch it and wait for it to get big enough to kill. The animal, which has lived in Nebraska its whole life, now finds itself in a crowded pen, but the worst is still to come.
The cow reaches the front of the line. She is ready. This is what she was born to do. She sticks her neck out, and seconds later, she is dead. She is processed, packaged, and put in a refrigerated truck, bound for Brooklyn. Tragic as it sounds, though, the worst is yet to come.
Menachem's father walks into a Brooklyn butcher, and picks up the piece of meat. He has a son learning in Jerusalem, a son who would be proud to do justice to the cow who gave its life up for food. A cow who dreamed sweet cow dreams of landing on a grill and being served alongside some potatoes or fries.
A cow who never thought she would be priveleged to be eaten in Jerusalem, but secretly harbored that wish.
Menachem's father goes on a plane, the meat in a carry-on bag, frozen. It gets to Israel, and sits in a freezer for a few weeks, while Menachem finds the perfect time to eat the steak.
The perfect time is now. It is Lag BaOmer, and there are fires all around us that are worthy of this cow, whose only dream other than being eatin in Jerusalem was to be cooked on a fire that was made for a mitzvah like Lag BaOmer.
The hot dogs are on sticks, the steak on a makeshift grate, when it happens. One of the steaks falls off the grate into the fire. The cows dreams have been shattered. She gave and gave and gave to be able to be killed and eaten and cooked in jerusalem, and now the dream is over.
Rescue efforts are attempted, but not successful. Menachem will eat one of the steaks, the other lies on the floor, adding fuel to the fire of that Lag BaOmer night.
Happy Lag BaOmer.
posted by Air Time at 1:07 PM
10 Comments:
As an Atkins devotee, I have to say that when I read your story, I wept.
what's the big deal -- a steak fell in a bbq?
this is a blogworthy yeshiva story?
come on. you must have better than this.
You clearly have no appreciation for
A) meat
B) dorm life
C) Good cuts of meat in Israel
D) meat
Do you live with your parents? Does your mom know you are online without supervision?
clearly a foolish young lad who never had to buy his own steak.
There should be a way to keep herbivorees off this thing.
I thin eating meat is mean
I think it's stupid not to. God put them here to be eaten. Otherwise, they wouldn't be so juicy.
I understand, It's so rare to get a good steak here.
-the reformed vebetarian, not due to my brothers-in-law who like to take credit.
there is no more appropriate yeshiva story then the tragedy of a missed steak. It is compounded by the fact that in Israel they don't have good steak, so a steak from America is a rare luxury.
We recently had a slightly less tragic incident with steaks from America. We had over an Israeli couple who didn't appreciate what they were eating. They said they thought chicken was healthier. To top it off they suggested next time we come over for grilled cucumbers. The only reason it was less tragic then air's story is that in our story the meat got eaten.
As some-one who has recently been priviledged to return to the red meat eating world, that is a very sad story. I hope you guys at least said Kadashe over the downed meat and buried it appropriately. A sad day for cows every-where...
-OC
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