The main hurdle for me was navigating the uncharted waters of creating a vegan turkey

Iam one rabbi who gets asked as many questions about Thanksgiving as I do about Pesach.

Thanksgiving is one time baalei teshuvah can connect with family for a holiday without worrying about driving.

I am typically asked about koshering ovens and using disposable tins that were never toiveled.

However, one incident from last Thanksgiving will remain with me forever.

Reuvain S. is a remarkable individual.

Reuvain (a.k.a. Randy) was born in Fresno, California, in 1973. His family attended the large (Reform) Temple Beth Israel, known as TBI. His parents were hippies leftover from the 1960s, originally from San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. Reuvain knew nothing about Orthodox Judaism, and not too much about Reform Judaism, either.

When Reuvain was in college he saw a sign announcing that Chabad was hosting a Seder. Reuvain’s penchant for nonconformity was ingrained in him from his hippie/anarchic parents, and he planned a plot clearly intended to “pique the pious” by persuading Popkong, his Buddhist roommate, to accompany him to the Chabad Seder.

Reuvain reveled as he pictured the moment when he would appear with the long-robed, shaven-headed Popkong at the Seder. He predicted the rabbi would be paralyzingly perplexed and perturbed.

But, unexpectedly, it was Reuvain who was taken aback, as the rabbi was cordial and welcoming.

Reuvain’s “aha moment” had arrived!

That night, along with the matzah, Reuvain tasted genuine Yiddishkeit, and his return to his roots went into high gear.

Before long, Randy became Reuvain and was learning Torah full-time in Israel. A few years later he married a bas Yisrael and settled in Passaic.

Last year Reuvain came to me and asked if he could eat at his parents’ house for Thanksgiving.

I asked if they kept kosher and he said, “Well, sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, they’re vegans. They refrain from eating any animal products — not only meat, but also eggs, dairy, and other animal-derived substances like honey.”

I discussed with Reuvain the problem of ingesting insects and similar issues.

Fascinatingly, their keilim were neither milchig nor fleishig.

The main hurdle for me was navigating the uncharted waters of creating a vegan turkey.

“How can they make it kosher?” I asked.

Suddenly I was learning about textured soybean protein, soy protein isolate, soybean oil, tapioca starch, raw cane sugar, sea salt, vegetable extract, and tofu skin.

This was a far cry from kishke, kugel, and cholent!

I researched each product carefully and discussed them with kashrus experts. Finally, the carnivore rabbi from Brooklyn was satisfied and gave the okay for Reuvain and his family to eat their vegan turkey.

I was relieved when Reuvain returned and handed me a letter from his parents.

The letter was brief and sincere.

“Dear Rabbi, this is the first time we were able to host our family for Thanksgiving. As a grandfather, you know how precious these occasions are. We are so appreciative of the hard work you put into making this meal a reality. We have decided to join the local Chabad shul and have begun keeping kosher according to Orthodox standards.”

I called them to thank them for the note.

Reuvain’s mother told me, “Rabbi, you took the time to make our dream a reality. We wondered, Where does a person learn such qualities? What is the secret ingredient that caused you to invest your time into helping people you never met? We now know that the answer is Torah.”

Her sincere words touched me deeply and a feeling of gratification consumed me. Receiving the hand-delivered letter from Reuvain’s parents was very meaningful. Yet, moved as I was, I was also slightly disappointed.

I’d been kind of hoping for Reuvain to bring me back a drumstick.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 787)