Bacon Cheeseburgers and Coffee

This story was already briefly mentioned when I wrote about spending the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah at a small village community in Israel in 2011. But it's funny enough to bear repeating. In case you don't want to read the whole story, I had just driven the community's rabbi and his 6-year-old son to the hospital so the son could get emergency stitches on his head after getting hit by a flying plastic chair (thrown--not at him, but he happened to be in its path--by his sister). As the only gentile in town, I was the only one the rabbi could ask to drive on the holiday-sabbath without violating the terms of Shabbat himself. Even as his son was bleeding, he still made sure that I was the first one to open my car door and the last one to close it so that neither he nor his son would activate the electricity powering the light. As I recall, I even signed the release form for his son at the hospital because writing on Shabbat is also forbidden.

The next day, in gratitude, the rabbi invited me and Vered, my host for Rosh Hashanah, over to his house for Shabbat dinner. Before eating, they performed the kiddush, a short ritual which involves blessing bread and wine and then everyone eating/drinking a small amount. As a Mormon, I don't drink wine (or any alcohol), not even a little bit. Since I'd had some awkward situations at other kiddush that weekend, I tried to quietly give my cup of wine to Vered to drink (it was about 1/2 inch in a small plastic bathroom-size plastic drinking cup). However, she didn't want the rabbi and his family to think that she just wanted to drink everyone's wine, so instead she loudly announced, "She doesn't drink wine. Do you have any plain grape juice?"

I had to laugh at what happened next. First the rabbi and his wife tried to convince me that it was only a teeny bit of wine--"only 10% or so. It's weak enough that even children can drink it. And plus it's just a swallow. I'm sure it won't be a problem to drink it."

After I politely refused, they didn't push the matter, but instead asked why Mormons don't drink wine. "It's a commandment from God," I explained, thinking that my conservative Jewish friends with their extremely strict dietary laws (and their observance of Shabbat even in an emergency situation) would understand the rational behind a commandment that forbids a certain kind of food or drink. "We also don't drink coffee or tea."

"You don't drink coffee?" the rabbi's wife gasped. "You mean you've never had coffee in your life?"

"No, never," I responded.

"You don't know what you're missing!" she said as she stood there, horrified at the thought of an entire religion whose adherents didn't drink coffee.

Looking around their kitchen at their kosher food, their stove with a specially equipped timer so they didn't have to turn it on on Shabbat, and the rabbi and his wife's religious clothing, and thinking about the trip to the hospital the night before, I couldn't help but laugh inwardly. "You mean you've never had a bacon cheeseburger?" I wanted to ask. "You don't know what you're missing!"

But I didn't say it. After all, what's the good of being able to eat bacon cheeseburgers if I can't drink coffee? 

The synagogue at the moshav.