Ethical Living || Faith in Flux

You might be thinking at this point, "What’s left for this guy to believe in?" I’ve questioned the idea of a physical manifestation of God, rejected heaven and hell as literal places, and reshaped traditional spirituality into something uniquely my own. Does this leave me with a bleak outlook on life? Maybe. As someone who struggles with deep depression, I’ll admit there are times when it can feel that way. But I’d argue that I’m not hopeless—just focused differently. Instead of looking for meaning in a world to come, I’ve found hope in the world we’re in right now. For me, it’s all about contributing to the healing of this world—even if it’s by just 1%. And for that, I turn to ethical living.

Tikkun Olam: Repairing the World

Tikkun Olam, or repairing the world, is a core tenet of Judaism and one of the major values that drew me to the faith. Coming from a religious tradition that often emphasized words over actions, it’s refreshing to see a framework that prioritizes actually doing the work. Growing up, I was criticized for wanting to spend time with the homeless and with people my church deemed “undesirable.” The irony of this, considering Jesus’ entire modus operandi, is not lost on me. Now, in Judaism, I’ve found a tradition that aligns with my belief that what truly matters is making the world a better place—here and now.

This is all we have. If there’s no afterlife (and I’m leaning heavily toward that conclusion), then living ethically becomes the cornerstone of a meaningful life. Not because we’re aiming for a heavenly reward, but because it’s simply the right thing to do.

Ethical Kashrut: Expanding the Boundaries of Kosher

A significant part of ethical living is ethical consumption. I firmly believe that under capitalism, truly ethical consumption doesn’t exist (sorry to burst your bubble). But even in a system rife with inequity, we can strive to do the best we can. For me, this is where Kashrut comes into play.

Initially, I thought keeping kosher was purely about adhering to the Torah’s dietary laws—a strict set of rules that felt daunting and incompatible with my complicated relationship with food. Enter The Sacred Table, a book recommended by a rabbi I was studying with. This dense collection of essays opened my eyes to the possibility of creating a personalized, ethical Kashrut practice.

It started with me attempting to follow the traditional rules. Spoiler alert: I failed almost immediately. Around Christmas, I made sausage balls for my family—a cherished tradition—and didn’t realize until later that sausage, being pork, was decidedly not kosher. Oops. Rather than letting this discourage me, I shifted my focus. I began researching the ethical practices of food companies, prioritizing brands that treated their workers fairly, supported humane animal treatment, and aligned with values I hold dear. This became my ethical Kashrut: less about what’s blessed and more about how the food and its creators align with my morals.

Striving for Consistency, Accepting Imperfection

The truth is, I’m not perfect in this practice. I still eat at fast-food chains with questionable labor practices. I still buy cheaper, mass-produced brands over small, ethical businesses. And while intention doesn’t excuse inaction, I believe intention matters. My goal is to align my consumption habits with my values as much as possible, knowing that perfection is unattainable. Ethical Kashrut challenges me to think before acting, and that’s powerful in itself.

For me, Kashrut’s essence isn’t just about dietary laws; it’s about embodying values in everyday actions. It’s about striving to make conscious choices that reflect who I want to be in the world. Do I always get it right? Absolutely not. But that’s okay. Ethical living, much like everything else in Judaism, is about intention and effort—not perfection.

The Bigger Picture

Ethical living, whether through Tikkun Olam, Kashrut, or other practices, is about how we operate in the world and strive for change, even in small ways. It’s not about getting it right all the time or adhering to anyone else’s standards. It’s about self-awareness, intention, and doing the right thing as often as you can.

This practice of living ethically reminds me that the world isn’t hopeless. Even in moments of doubt and despair, there’s power in small actions. Whether it’s choosing a more ethical brand, volunteering time, or simply treating someone with kindness, every act contributes to repairing the world—and that’s a legacy worth striving for.