A Mashgiach’s Travels — This Week: Turkey
| March 23, 2021“You know,” he finally said, “now I see what the difference is between a religious Jew and a non-observant Jew”
A Mashgiach's Travels
Is it hard for you to find food when you go grocery shopping? Does your local kosher supermarket have a nice, big selection of products? Have you ever been (or maybe you live) in a place without a kosher supermarket, and had to hunt for food packages with a hechsher?
Maybe you never gave much thought about what goes into making food kosher. Maybe you never thought too much about what needs to happen for that stamp to appear on your package of cookies. Maybe you never realized that there is so much that goes into making all different kinds of food kosher certified for you to eat and enjoy.
I’m excited to introduce you to Rabbi Yisroel Halberstam, a mashgiach kashrus. Over the next few weeks, Rabbi Halberstam is going to share some of his best stories with us. And here we go!
What’s the Difference?
There is so much that goes into making sure the food you eat is perfectly kosher. Did you know that many mashgichim need to travel abroad to supervise factories all over the world?
My name is Rabbi Yisroel Halberstam, and I work as a mashgiach kashrus. That means I oversee factories to make sure the food products they produce are perfectly kosher. I travel all over the world so that frum Jews can have kosher food.
On one of my trips overseas, I was in Turkey, supervising the production of halva and tahini. Each day in the factory was long and tiring. I was on my feet for most of the day, and I was looking forward to getting back to my hotel room, eating a simple meal, and going to sleep. The factory manager offered to give me a ride to the hotel, and I agreed. I climbed into the car with the Muslim manager and we sped off.
After a few minutes, the manager turned to me. “You know, I’m really very hungry. What do you say we stop for some food?”
I coughed. “Well, actually, I am a religious Jew. I can’t eat food that isn’t kosher.” (Trust me, if that wasn’t so important to me, I wouldn’t be far away from my family, in Turkey, supervising the production of tahini and halva!) “But if you’d like to stop, then you can just pick up some bananas or apples for me. Fruit is fine.”
“Oh, that’s no problem that you only eat kosher,” the manager hurried to assure me. “I am a religious Muslim. We also have strict guidelines concerning food — we only eat halal. No pork! So there is no problem,” he said happily.
Halal is what the Muslims call their version of shechitah. I politely explained that there is a lot more to kashrus than shechitah. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I can’t join you,” I finished.
The manager was quiet for a few moments, driving thoughtfully. I eyed him and wondered what he was thinking. “You know,” he finally said, “now I see what the difference is between a religious Jew and a non-observant Jew.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Well,” the manager replied, “once, I was on a business trip with a few other people. One of them was Jewish. We went out to a restaurant, and because I am the manager of a food factory, I knew Jews had this issue with food, they need it to be kosher. So I said to this gentleman, “How can you eat in this restaurant? It isn’t kosher!”
The manager glanced in my direction to make sure I was listening. I nodded, showing him that I was following along.
“Well,” the manager went on, “this fine Jew looked at me in surprise and said, ‘It’s not pork! I am only eating chicken!’ ”
And as I pitied this unfortunate and uninformed Yid, the manager said again, in satisfaction, “Yes, now I see the difference between a non-observant Jew, and a true, G-d fearing Jew.”
All in a day’s work.
This diary will appear every second week
(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 854)
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