Ansche Chesed folks know that last week I undertook the food stamp challenge – the self-imposed commitment to live for a week as if all I could spend on food and drink was $4.50 per day, the average benefit. Since I went from Shabbat to Shabbat, I only went six days, not seven, and spent less than $27 in all.
It was hard. Full stop. I found it extremely trying, yet it was most enlightening. Lots of people will tell you that this exercise was “life changing.” I wouldn’t go that far, perhaps, but I am very glad I did it. The food stamp challenge did for me what I expected: gave me some small, admittedly artificial, inkling of food insecurity, and cultivated my empathy for those who know they cannot always open the fridge and find enough healthy food to sustain themselves.
And it provided me a small demonstrative platform to advocate for the importance of the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP, the official name for “food stamps”). That program is part of the “Farm Bill” – a massive piece of legislation up for renewal next year, which treats a huge proportion of American food policy, here and abroad. With deficit reduction in high gear, SNAP is at risk. It shouldn’t be: more than 44 million people – half of them working poor – receive this aid. The government itself estimates that every dollar of SNAP aid pumps $1.79 back into the economy. Learn more about the issues at the website ofFighting Poverty with Faith, a broad interfaith coalition. And speaking of the farm bill … if you want to read about the fatal inefficiencies of American food aid abroad, you can read Ruth Messinger’s Op-Ed in the Forward here.
On my own experience, I’d make a few observations. First the main thing is my deepened awareness of how plentiful food is in America … for most of us. Unlike most of human history, even most of the world today, American life is truly a banquet. OK, most of it may be garbage, unhealthy, and obesity- and diabetes-inducing. But food is plentiful, and most of us feel safe. We always can have food when we need it and when we don’t. But last week gave me the tremendously salutary experience of having to count my food. In a small, admittedly artificial way, I had a new experience: deciding to not to eat now so I could eat later. That’s a way of life for more than 48 million Americans in food insecure homes. I certainly feel sensitized, in a very modest way, to that experience.
What did I eat? Eggs, bread (homemade by a friend, assigned a $2 price for ingredients) peanut butter, beans and rice, and a ridiculous amount of grits. Now, I love grits. But the very thought turns my stomach, still, a week later. Food variety is part of the USDA’s healthy eating index. OK, I get it. Blechchch. Fresh fruit and vegetables? One carrot from a grocery store, two pears and five bananas from one of the sidewalk fruit vendors we have here in New York. Also, an apple from my fridge in a moment of desperation, to which I assigned a 35-cent value, based on the fruit vendor prices. Cheating? Perhaps. I still came in under the $27.
No coffee. At all. No one who knows me can believe it. I switched to cheap tea bags – two at a time. And I passed up my other beloved beverages for the week.
How it did it feel? Gray. Often groggy and lethargic. Simply not enough fuel for this machine to fire at its best, physically, emotionally or mentally. Although I repeat that I think it sharpened my empathy. I have a few people who regularly come to me at the synagogue for some money and food cards. One guy – whom I had helped just the previous week and wasn’t really due for me help from me – came to me and asked for some help “because my food stamps won’t arrive until next week.” How could I possibly turn him down?
Did keeping Kosher affect this at all? Interesting. Once I went into a dollar-store to buy a can of beans and noticed that super-cheap ramen noodles were on sale for 50-cents a cup. Of course, I wouldn’t buy these because they were shrimp and pork. But it was notable how much cheaper it would be to fill up on those empty, nutritionless calories. If I were really poor? I would probably be eating the ramen.
But I didn’t feel that a lifetime of self-imposed food restrictions – choosing to bypass McDonalds and whatever else – in any way trained me better for this exercise. I experience keeping Kosher as sanctifying my eating, not as deprivation. I like keeping Kosher. But this was something totally different. I experienced this as inability to access what I longed for, what was before my eyes, but inaccessible.
It’s like the Garden of Eden story in the Torah: that forbidden fruit is “a delight to the eyes, and desirable as a source of wisdom.” Eve and Adam just couldn’t resist. By watching food this week, I felt an inkling of how ancient people – who by definition were almost always food insecure – might have heard that story. Their temptations to steal inaccessible food must have been intense.
Finally, one major Jewish life insight. Modern American Jews can hardly understand the meaning of the weekly feast that is Shabbat. We eat too well all week long. Shabbat is great, sure, but it might not necessarily be the best meal of your week. Especially here in NYC, you might go to a spectacular restaurant during the week days. But for most of Jewish history, people ate dairy or pareve during the week, and not that much of it. And when the sun set on Friday night, it was a time of rejoicing. Last week – I really got it. I have never looked forward to Shabbat as fully as on the Friday when my small period of self imposed poverty would come to an end and I could welcome in the Sabbath Queen.
- Nedarim, Daf 79 - January 12, 2023
- Nedarim, Daf 78 - January 11, 2023
- Nedarim, Daf 77 - January 10, 2023