Tag Archives: Sacrifices

Witches and Wizards in the Torah

In this week’s parasha, Mishpatim, the Torah prescribes capital punishment for a witch, stating that “A sorceress shall not live” (Exodus 22:17). Rashi explains here, citing the Talmud in Sanhedrin 67a, that although the phrasing is in the feminine, the law applies to a sorceress or a sorcerer. Both female witchcraft and male wizardry are forbidden. The reason that the Torah phrases it in the feminine is simply because sorcery is more common among women. The Zohar (I, 126b) explains why it is that women are more drawn to witchcraft than men:

It all goes back to the Garden of Eden, where the Serpent approached Eve and “injected into her a zuhama”, a spiritual impurity. Although this zuhama went on to “infect” all mankind that descend from Eve, women are more prone to its effects, and more drawn to the “Other Side”, the Sitra Achra. However, the Zohar also states elsewhere (such as in III, 230a, Ra’aya Mehemna) that women are more attracted to all faith in general, and it is easy to see how women today and throughout history were a lot more dedicated to their faith than men. Women are naturally more drawn to matters of faith, belief, and mysticism—whether good or bad.

Now, what actually constitutes witchcraft or sorcery? The Sages derive that there are 10 types of sorcery, based on Deuteronomy 18:10-11, which states “Let no one be found among you who consigns a son or daughter to the fire; or an enchanter who enchants, a soothsayer, a diviner, a sorcerer; one who casts spells, or one who consults ghosts or familiar spirits, or one who inquires of the dead.” The first in the list of ten is an “enchanter” (קסם), and then the term “who enchants” (קסמים) implies two more distinct types of enchantments. (In Modern Hebrew, this root term is used for a magician or illusionist.) Then we are given seven more practices.

A me’onen (מעונן) is one who predicts ominous times and seasons, from the root onah meaning a “season” or period of time. The same root here implies wasting seed, like Onan son of Judah in the Torah (Genesis 38). Thus, the Sages suggest that a me’onen is a person who performs sorcery using semen, or involving some other sexual perversion (see Sanhedrin 65b). Next comes a menachesh (מנחש) who “divines” and, literally, “guesses” the future through various means. For instance, in the Torah we read how Joseph would be menachesh using his special silver goblet (Genesis 44). The Talmud (ibid.) adds that a menachesh uses omens and derives meaning from all kinds of random events, or even from the activity of birds, fish, and other animals.

Then comes the mechashef (מכשף), this time phrased in the masculine, for a generic sorcerer. A chover (חבר) is translated as one who “casts spells” but that definition seems more fitting for the sorcerer. A literal reading of chover implies someone who connects and brings things together, lechaber, perhaps one who brews potions, reminiscent of a witch’s cauldron. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 65a) adds here that a chover is one who burns different concoctions of incense to idols or demons. The purpose may be to summon or gather those demons. Another possibility is that what a chover brings together is animals, for example snakes, scorpions, or insects. A chover, therefore, might include a malicious snake charmer.

The final three in the list of ten all seem to be about contacting ghosts and spirits. First is a person who inquires of ov (אוב). Based on the root, it may be a person who channels their dead ancestors (avot). Another is one who inquires of yidoni (ידעוני), translated as a “familiar spirit”, perhaps the ghost of someone famous and well-known like a great historical figure. The last is a medium who contacts the souls of the dead directly. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 65b) suggests that a person who practices ov may get possessed by a ghost and speak in their name. Often, this is done by the use of a skull. A yidoni, meanwhile, uses the bone of a certain animal called yadua to contact the dead. Finally, the generic “necromancer” is a person who fasts and then goes to sleep in a cemetery to collect information from dead spirits.

Biblical Warlocks

The Zohar (I, 166b) states that history’s greatest sorcerer was Laban, father-in-law of Jacob. In fact, when Jacob complains that Laban flipped his wages ten times, aseret monim (Genesis 31:7), the true meaning here is that Laban used all ten types of wizardry (outlined above) against Jacob! So, when Jacob later told Esau that he lived with Laban, im Lavan garti—that he lived with the infamous sorcerer and escaped his clutches—he meant to tell Esau that just as he escaped all forms of Laban’s sorcery, he would similarly withstand Esau.

The Zohar here says that the next great warlock of the Torah, Bila’am, learned his sorcery directly from Laban, who was actually his grandfather! The Talmud, meanwhile, has an opinion that Bila’am was one and the same person as Laban (Sanhedrin 105a). The Arizal reconciles the two by teaching that Bila’am was the reincarnation of Laban. Thus, he was both Laban’s descendant on the one hand, and at the same time literally Laban because he was his reincarnation (see Sha’ar HaPesukim on Balak).

The Tanakh (Joshua 13:22) actually calls Bila’am a kosem, the first type of sorcery on the Torah’s list. The verse here says that the Israelites killed Bila’am and his disciples el halaleyehem (אל חלליהם). The standard translation is something like “with their corpses”, but this reading doesn’t make much sense. The Zohar explains that halaleyehem really refers to their flying crafts, because Bila’ams team of sorcerers knew how to fly using magic! (In Modern Hebrew, a halalit is a spacecraft.) Today, flying on a broomstick is associated with witches. Where did this notion come from?

Talmudic Witches

The only woman directly called a “witch” in Tanakh is Jezebel, the wife of the wicked Israelite king Ahab (II Kings 9:22). Jezebel is the one that relentlessly persecuted the prophet Eliyahu, but was ultimately defeated. The Talmud suggests that Ahab was such a wicked king only because he was bewitched by Jezebel (Yerushalmi Sanhedrin 10:2). Another Biblical figure thought of as a sorceress is the “Witch of Endor”, although she is not addressed this way in Tanakh (I Samuel 28). It was this necromancing woman that Saul went to in order to summon the soul of the prophet Samuel. The Tanakh makes sure to note there that Saul had previously banned all forms of necromancy, but when he himself needed the council of his now-deceased prophet Samuel, he hypocritically resorted to a ba’alat ov, a woman who practiced the ov form of necromancy.

Nikolai Ge’s “Witch of Endor” (1857)

The Talmud says much more about witches, and recounts multiple stories featuring them. In the most famous such incident, Shimon ben Shatach (early 1st century BCE), president of the Sanhedrin in his day (and brother of Queen Salome Alexandra), managed to execute eighty witches in Ashkelon at once. In fact, when he ran for president, Shimon ben Shatach’s campaign promise was that he would eliminate witchcraft from Israel. The Talmud says he initially failed to keep his promise, but when things got out of hand, he gathered a group of eighty men and headed to the cave in Ashkelon where the witches were headquartered. Through a clever ruse, he managed to capture all eighty of them, and had them all hanged.

The Talmud Yerushalmi mentions this in its exploration of the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 6:6) which teaches that it is forbidden to try two capital cases in one day. Yet, Shimon ben Shatach tried and hanged eighty. Presumably it was necessary in that situation, since the witches were highly dangerous and had to be eliminated immediately. The Talmud also mentions this story because the Mishnah presents an opinion that women were never hanged at all, only men were subject to hanging, yet here we have proof that Shimon hanged eighty women. Again, it was probably an exceptional case. (The Talmud Bavli also speaks about this incident briefly in Sanhedrin 45b).

In the Shimon ben Shatach story, the witches are able to conjure items at will, seemingly speaking them into existence. One conjured bread, another conjured a food, and a third produced wine. Some of the Sages were also described as being able to conjure, however not through black magic, but rather white magic, as taught in Sefer Yetzirah and other ancient mystical texts. Rav Oshaya and Rav Chanina had made a calf, while the sage Rava had bara gavra, produced a human-like golem (Sanhedrin 65b). Some say the magical incantation of “abracadabra” comes from Rava bara gavra, while others derive it directly from the Hebrew-Aramaic evra k’dibra, “I will create as I speak”. I have not heard a theory regarding the origins of the final word of the magical formula, “alakazam”, but my own conjecture is that it comes from al hakesem or al hakosem, through the powers of the kosem, the first of the Torah’s ten types of sorcery, the same term used to describe Bila’am.

As a general requirement, the Talmud teaches that a sage who sat on the Sanhedrin actually had to be knowledgeable in witchcraft and wizardry (Sanhedrin 17a). This is so that, like Shimon ben Shatach, the Sanhedrin would be able to properly apprehend and try witches and wizards. Relatedly, in Shabbat 81b we read how Rav Chisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna were once on a ship and a witch wanted to sit with them but they refused, so she uttered a spell and the whole ship stopped in the middle of the sea! The rabbis uttered something of a counter-spell of their own, and the ship started moving again. The witch soon gave up, noting that the rabbis’ righteous conduct prevented her from harming them. In Pesachim 110a-b, the Sages teach a formula to recite in order to keep witches away, a lengthy phrase that includes statements like “may your hair fall out” and “may your spices scatter in the wind”.

Witchcraft Symbolism

The Zohar (II, 185a) explains that the Torah prescribes sacrificing a se’ir, a particular type of hairy goat, as a way to counter the powers of witchcraft. This is because the goat is a major symbol of witchcraft and sorcery. This symbol is often combined with a pentagram, a five-pointed star. The six-pointed star of Judaism, meanwhile, is something of a “one-up” over the pentagram, to subdue the wicked powers of the Other Side. It is interesting to point out that a se’ir goat was offered on Rosh Chodesh in particular, as a “sin offering” (Numbers 28:15). This was partly a sin offering for the sins of witchcraft, since Rosh Chodesh is considered a feminine holiday, traditionally observed more stringently by women, whose bodies similarly follow a lunar-like cycle.

An 1856 depiction of the goat-headed “Baphomet”, with the moon on the side and a prominent pentagram.

Modern-day “Wiccans” and witches still use the pentagram as their main symbol, as well as the goat-headed “Baphomet”, among others. And what of the classic image of a witch wearing a pointy hat, brewing in a cauldron, with a black cat, and a flying broomstick? Historians believe this image actually emerged in the 15th and 16th centuries as a smear campaign against women who had, until then, dominated the beer-brewing industry:

Since ancient times, it was women who made and sold beer. During the Protestant Reformation in Europe, this was discouraged and women were expected to stay home, while men should engage in business and go out to the marketplace. Women who brewed beer were depicted as witches, their cauldrons holding poisons and potions instead of beer. In those days, beer-brewing women did indeed have cats with them, to keep rats and mice from eating their grains, and they did wear long, pointy hats to be more visible in the marketplace. The broomstick, too, probably came out of a need to always sweep the dust and grain chaff in their breweries. Thus, its only in recent centuries that the image of a typical female beer-brewer—with cauldron, broomstick, cat, and pointy hat—turned into the image of a typical witch!

Finally, and most importantly, we must ask the big question: is witchcraft and wizardry actually real? Might it only be an illusion or a set of false beliefs and superstitions? Perhaps the effects of witchcraft are only placebo-like, and harm only those who believe in them? The Talmud and Zohar certainly make it seem like witchcraft and sorcery are real and potent. Yet, the great rationalist Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204) was among those who held that witchcraft is nonsense. He argued that the Torah forbids it not because it has real power, but because it is just meaningless, idolatrous drivel. One should stay away from any such beliefs or ideas. It is worth concluding with the Rambam’s eloquent words:

The masters of wisdom and those of perfect knowledge know with clear proof that all these crafts which the Torah forbade are not reflections of wisdom, but rather, emptiness and vanity which attracted the feeble-minded and caused them to abandon all the paths of truth. For these reasons, when the Torah warned against all these empty matters, it advised [Deuteronomy 18:13]: “Be of perfect faith with Hashem, your God.”
(Sefer HaMadda, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 11:16)

Counter-Sefirot and the Seven Chambers of Hell

This week’s parasha, Ki Tavo, records some of Moses’ final instructions to the people before his passing, and what the nation should do upon entering the Holy Land. Among these things is to have the Twelve Tribes divided upon two mountains, and pronounce a set of curses and blessings. The Torah records a total of 11 distinct curses. Although the word “cursed” appears twelve times, the last instance is only a general statement that “Cursed be the one who does not uphold the words of this Torah, to fulfill them…”

In his mystical commentary on this week’s parasha (in Sha’ar HaPesukim), the Arizal explains that the 11 curses are neutralized by the 11 ingredients of the special Ketoret incense. Similarly, they are blocked by the 11 curtains of the Mishkan. Why specifically 11? The Arizal explains that just as there are Ten Sefirot in the realm of holiness, there are ten opposing “counter-Sefirot” forces in the realm of kelipah, the unholy “husks”. These ten counter-Sefirot have an additional 11th source which gives them energy, since they are otherwise empty on their own. This is unlike the holy Sefirot, each of which is imbued with, and shines forth, its own unique energy and light. Having said that, among the Sefirot there is indeed an eleventh aspect, too, which is the unifying Da’at (itself portrayed as only the inverse of Keter).

Although Rabbi Chaim Vital records little else in Sha’ar HaPesukim that the Arizal said on Ki Tavo, we do know that the Arizal’s source for the counter-Sefirot was actually the Zohar—not on this week’s parasha, but on parashat Pekudei. In one of the longest, most complex, and most esoteric passages of the Zohar (starting at II, 242b), we learn about the energies that oppose (and, in some ways, balance out) the Sefirot in the realm of the Sitra Achra, the “Other Side”. Making sense of the Zohar’s cryptic language is a huge challenge, and I hope to do it some justice in the overview that follows. Continue reading

Why is Chicken Forbidden with Dairy?

In this week’s parasha, Re’eh, we find one of three instances in the Torah prohibiting to “cook a kid in its mother’s milk.” (Deuteronomy 14:21) The most literal understanding of this prohibition is not to cook a baby goat specifically in its own mother’s milk. Certain sources suggest this refers to an ancient pagan practice where idolaters did exactly that. The Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204) writes in his Moreh Nevuchim (III, 48):

Meat boiled in milk is undoubtedly gross food, and makes overfull; but I think that most probably it is also prohibited because it is somehow connected with idolatry, forming perhaps part of the service, or being used on some festival of the heathen. I find a support for this view in the circumstance that the Law mentions the prohibition twice after the commandment given concerning the festivals…

Since twice the Torah juxtaposes this prohibition with celebrating festivals, the Rambam reasons that it must have been something done by pagans on their festivals. Archaeologists have indeed found evidence of a possible ancient Canaanite fertility ritual where they would cook a kid in its mother’s milk, then sprinkle the soup on their farms. Idolatry aside, this ritual is undoubtedly cruel, too. Way back in the 1st century CE, Philo Judaeus wrote in his On Virtues how anyone who does such a thing “is exhibiting a terrible perversity of disposition” (XXVI, 144).

Intriguingly, Philo also explains the meat-dairy prohibition as having more of a mystical reason: There is something spiritually incompatible in mixing meat and dairy, for “it is a very terrible thing for the nourishment of the living to be the seasoning and sauce of the dead…” (143) In other words, milk is that nourishing substance that represents new life, whereas meat requires slaughter and represents death. It is important to remember that God originally prohibited mankind from eating any meat whatsoever. Adam and Eve were vegetarians. Meat was later permitted by God after the Flood, though in a very limited capacity, and mainly for a spiritual reason (as explained in the past here). And spiritually, meat and dairy are simply incompatible.

Now, everyone agrees, as did Philo, that the Torah’s prohibition is not just specifically for goats, but for any domesticated herd flesh such as sheep and cows. Undomesticated animals are a different story, since they are not milked, so it wouldn’t be possible (or it would be extremely difficult) to cook them in their mother’s milk. Birds, of course, are not mammals and have no milk at all. Hence, Rabbi Akiva teaches in the Mishnah (Chullin 8:4) that “an undomesticated animal or bird in milk is not prohibited by Torah law.” Rabbi Akiva also adds non-kosher animals, meaning that a Jew who, say, works as a cook in a non-kosher restaurant would be allowed to mix pork and dairy for the non-Jewish diners. According to Rabbi Akiva, this is why the Torah mentions the meat-dairy prohibition three separate times, to teach that three categories of animals are excluded: undomesticated, birds, and non-kosher.

The Talmud then discusses this Mishnah in more depth. The implication of Rabbi Akiva’s statement is that while those three categories are not prohibited by Torah law, they are prohibited by Rabbinic law (Chullin 116a). However, Rabbi Yose haGelili held that consuming birds with dairy is not prohibited at all, not even by Rabbinic law, and that in his hometown it was normal for Jews to eat fowl and dairy regularly! Then, in a story about the sage Levi, the Talmud presents the possibility that the hometown of Rabbi Yehuda ben Beteira may have permitted fowl and dairy, as well. Earlier in the Talmud (Chullin 104b), Agra teaches that fowl and cheese are permitted to be eaten together, though his statement is later qualified to mean that he meant they can be consumed one after another, not actually together.

There is no doubt that by the close of the Talmudic period, consuming fowl and dairy was prohibited just as any other meat. And everyone agrees that this is a Rabbinic fence. The big question is: why? The Talmud does not give a reason for the expansion of the prohibition to include fowl. One cannot argue that the Sages simply extended the prohibition to include all animal flesh with dairy, for they did not extend the prohibition to fish and the kosher locusts, which remain pareve. Only fowl became forbidden.

For many years, I searched for a satisfying answer to the problem. Surprisingly, there is a serious scarcity of discussion on the matter. The most oft-repeated reason is that fowl may be easily confused with red meat, so the Sages worried that people might unintentionally break a Torah law, hence the need for a fowl fence. Yet, there doesn’t appear to actually be an ancient source for this answer, nor does it make much sense upon closer examination. If we are worried about appearances, some fish might also be confused with meat (they call tuna the “chicken of the sea” after all), but fish and dairy was not prohibited. Eating a hamburger with artificial pareve cheese, or eating a vegan cheeseburger, have not been prohibited either, and those situations are far more visually confusing. Besides, people are generally careful to know what they are eating—especially Jews who have many dietary restrictions.

A better answer I came across looks at the question more practically. For most of history, red meat was prohibitively expensive.* Cows, sheep, and goats are a lot more valuable alive than dead. One could get years’ worth of nutrition—milk, butter, cheese—not to mention other goods like wool and lanolin, as long as the animal remains living. Also, there is too much meat on these animals for a single family to consume in one sitting, and there were no freezers to keep the leftovers. Thus, red meat was typically only consumed on special occasions and big events. The most common meat was chicken, which was easy and quick to raise and slaughter, not expensive at all, and small enough that there was little waste. Practically speaking, for most people in the past, “meat” meant chicken, and had more day-to-day significance than rare red meat. Thus, it wasn’t much of a leap to include chicken (and thereby other fowl) in the prohibition.

Having said that, another answer might seem totally the opposite. The Mishnah (Bava Kamma 7:7) states that it was forbidden to raise chickens in Jerusalem during Temple times, and kohanim were not allowed to raise chickens at all, anywhere in Israel. This is because chickens are scavengers that will eat anything, including garbage, and might pick up bones and move them from place to place, spreading tumah impurity. One of the peculiar archaeological findings in Qumran—famous for the Dead Sea Scrolls—is that while many bones of cows, sheep, and goats have been dug up, there are absolutely none of chickens! Those Essenes who likely inhabited Qumran were very strictly-observant Jews, so it makes sense that they kept the same purity laws as would be kept in Jerusalem. Considering how much the Essenes influenced Rabbinic Judaism (or reflected an element of that era’s Rabbinic Judaism), it is quite possible that many of the early Sages avoided chicken as well. The Torah itself never mentions chickens at all, the Midrash describes them as “the most brazen of birds” (Shemot Rabbah 42:9), while the Talmud (Berakhot 6a) associates chicken feet with demons.

So, it is quite possible that Jews in those days actually ate little chicken. In fact, we know that the main fowl that was consumed in Israel was pigeon and dove. Perhaps chicken was designated “meat” (for dairy-mixing purposes) because it was uncommon and unfamiliar. Once chicken was prohibited, other birds slowly followed suit. Indeed, the episode in Chullin mentioned above describes how Levi was presented with a peacock and dairy dish, and did not object. Perhaps the fence started with chicken, and over time expanded to include other birds.

A study highlighting one issue of eating meat and dairy together.

Whatever the case, what we find is that during the Second Temple era, consuming fowl with dairy was not prohibited, and shortly afterwards was prohibited Rabbinically. It took several centuries for the prohibition to be cemented and universal. Intriguingly, the Ethiopian Jewish community knew of no prohibition for fowl and dairy, and only accepted it upon themselves when they began settling in Israel in recent decades. (This may be a valuable point of evidence suggesting the Ethiopian Jewish community branched off in the very early years of the exile after the Temple’s destruction, or even earlier). I believe that here, in this chronology, lies one more possible answer as to why fowl and dairy was forbidden. And this answer is a mystical one.

Elevating Birds

Illustration of a kohen washing his hands in the Temple’s copper laver.

From the information above, we can deduce that the critical moment in the birth of the fowl-dairy prohibition was the destruction of the Temple. A great many things changed with that seismic event. Our Sages stated that since we no longer have a Temple altar, the meal table now takes its place (Berakhot 55a, Chagigah 27a). As such, the Sages instituted a number of meal-time rituals to parallel the Temple services. First is netilat yadayim, which parallels the priestly washing in the Temple’s copper laver before service (as well as the washing before their consumption of terumah). Second is dipping bread in salt after hamotzi, since all sacrifices in the Temple had to be salted. Then there’s the final washing, mayim achronim, as explored in depth in Secrets of the Last Waters. Such practices were meant to commemorate, reinforce, and facilitate that what was spiritually accomplished in the Temple before could now be spiritually accomplished at the meal table. So, what is it that we seek to accomplish spiritually here?

Across Jewish mystical texts (particularly the Arizal), it is made clear that the purpose of the Temple was to elevate the holy sparks of Creation trapped in this lower physical world. The soul of an animal that was sacrificed in the Temple was able to break free of the kelipot, and return Above. Any lost holy sparks (nitzotzot) trapped within the animal were restored to their true place in the cosmos. The same goes for eating, which serves to elevate the spiritual matter within the food, thereby rectifying Creation. (See, for instance, Sha’ar HaGilgulim, ch. 22; Sha’ar haMitzvot on Ekev; and the Zohar on Ekev.)

In Temple times, a person was able to elevate sparks on things like fruits, vegetables, and fish through eating and reciting an after-blessing. Fowl and herd animals were more difficult to elevate, and generally required sacrifice in the Temple. Once the Temple was destroyed, the spiritual potential within each Jew declined. Now, an additional pre-blessing was necessary to properly elevate the sparks, which is the mystical reason for the Sages having instituted the berakhah rishonah. This works for low-level sparks and kelipot like those in produce or fish, but what about the more difficult fowl and herd animals, which were offered in the Temple? For those, we have the meal table, and thus the necessity of the additional rituals instituted by the Sages, mirroring those in the Temple.

The kelipot within fowl and herd animals are particularly strong, and their souls are greater than other animals. (This has a biological aspect, too, in that birds and mammals are the only two categories of animals that are warm-blooded.) To accomplish their elevation in a spiritually-weaker reality devoid of a Temple, the Sages had to introduce a number of spiritual supports. For instance, there was the directive to preferably leave meat consumption only for Shabbat, when a Jew has an additional soul and more spiritual power. Another suggestion was that only a tzadik should eat meat since the average ‘am aretz is not spiritually refined enough to process it (see Sha’ar HaMitzvot on Ekev).

I believe that it is for this mystical reason that the prohibition on mixing fowl and dairy emerged. Without a Temple, it became more difficult to spiritually process fowl meat. In the same way that it is biologically harder to digest meat and dairy mixtures, and effectively absorb their nutrients (see here, for example), it is more difficult to spiritually “digest” them together, too. This would also explain why the meat-dairy prohibition did not extend to other animals like fish and kosher locusts, since those animals were never brought as offerings in the Temple anyway. Finally, it would explain why the fowl-dairy prohibition was not instituted by a decree of the Sanhedrin, and was not universal for several centuries, since it would have been taught specifically by the mystics, and the general rule is that we don’t impose mystical stringencies and rituals upon the general public. Of course, due to their power and allure, mystical practices spread widely over time anyway, and become normative halakhah. That could very well be what happened with fowl and dairy.

A study highlighting one issue of eating meat and dairy together.

Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov!

*My parents often relate how lucky we are to have so much meat today, and so cheaply. In Soviet Uzbekistan where they lived, a kilo of beef cost 5 rubles. To put that in perspective, the average monthly salary then, as mandated by the government, was about 85 rubles. So, a single kilo of beef was worth roughly 6% of one’s monthly income. To compare, average monthly income in the US today is $3000, so it would be like paying $180 for a kilo of beef—and that’s not even kosher beef! A whole live chicken, meanwhile, would go for as little as 4 rubles. My mother says how, when she was a child, her mother would ask her to walk down the street to the shochet, and he would do a kosher chicken slaughter for just 5 kopeks! (My mom always put the chicken in a closed box because she didn’t want anyone to see!)