Of Sacred Leopards and Abominable Pigs

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Franz Kafka once wrote a brief parable about the origin of a fabulous Temple ritual: “Leopards break into the Temple and drink to the dregs what is in the sacrificial pitchers; this is repeated over and over again; finally it can be calculated in advance, and it becomes a part of the ceremony.”¹ In this strange, dreamlike way, a random and perhaps terrifying event comes to be ritualized as part of the sacred routine. As a Temple ritual, it would naturally be invested with deep theological significance. In this way, a recurring historical event becomes a mysterious religious symbol.

As Kafka’s parable suggests, the way that historical practices become religious rituals is indeed mysterious. An example that is not quite as fabulous as Kafka’s leopard is the biblical pig. The avoidance of pork is one of the hallmarks of biblical dietary laws, and it remains a basic prohibition in the Jewish rules of kosher food. Why does traditional Judaism prohibit pork? Some rabbis will say that it is because pork is unhealthy if not prepared correctly. But this explanation doesn’t really work in the context of the other prohibited foods—rare camel or badger meat aren’t unhealthy, and they are prohibited too (Leviticus 11:1–7). Other rabbis will say that these laws are divine mysteries, and we must show our faith by obedience. This explanation is close to the sense of Kafka’s parable—the laws are mysterious, seemingly random, and obscure.

The realities dug up by archaeologists are less mysterious but still fascinating. A new theory of the origin of pork avoidance in biblical Israel has been advanced by the excavator of Ashkelon, Harvard archaeologist Lawrence Stager, with an assist from the research of paleozoologist Brian Hesse.² In the excavations at the Philistine city of Ashkelon, they found a high proportion of pig bones in the early phases of settlement (c. 1175–1000 B.C.E.).

A similar high proportion exists at other contemporary Philistine sites, such as Ekron and Timnah. In contrast, early Israelite sites during this period—the Early Iron Age—show an absence or scarcity of pig bones. The contrast between the Philistines’ preference for pigs and the early Israelites’ apparent avoidance of pigs is striking.

In an article with the delightful title “Pig Lovers and Pig Haters: Patterns of Palestinian Pig Production,” Hesse notes that pig production was marginal in Palestine after about 2000 B.C.E. The sole exception was, of course, the Philistines. In his articles, Stager observes that pork was a preferred food among the Mycenaean Greeks and concludes that the Philistines brought this culinary preference with them from their Greek homelands.

The historical situation shows that the Philistines preferred pork, while the early Israelites raised other livestock for meat—primarily sheep, goats and cattle. This accidental contrast in foodways must have been noticed by the early Israelites. At some point this difference became a badge of honor, a sign that one was not a Philistine but an Israelite. We should remember that the Philistines were not only neighbors, but adversaries and rulers over large areas of Israelite settlement. Samson fights against them. Saul fights against them. David first serves them and later defeats them. For a century or more, Israel chafed under Philistine hegemony.

In this context, a minor difference in food preferences can become a weighty symbol of cultural autonomy and religious faith. The pig becomes an abomination, at least in part because it was the food of choice of the feared Philistines. The Philistine treat became an Israelite taboo. An accidental avoidance became a part of the ritual system, marking brightly the boundary of religious and cultural identity.

If one avoids pig and cultivates sheep, goats and cattle, it is easy to derive a principle that allows the one and prohibits the other. Sheep, goats and cattle chew their cud and have cloven hooves. Pigs don’t chew the cud, though they do have cloven hooves. By adopting this little rule—eat only animals that chew their cud and have cloven hooves—a neat circle is drawn around sheep, goats and cattle (and a few game animals like deer and gazelle) while other animals are excluded, including pigs, rabbits, camels and rock badgers. The initial opposition has been generalized into a system of animal classification. The results are codified in the dietary laws in Leviticus 11 and Deuteronomy 14. The purpose of these laws is that Israel should be holy.

The parable continues: A pig wanders into the Philistine camp and they eat it; this is repeated over and over again; finally the subjected Israelites (whose economy doesn’t include pigs) can calculate this in advance, and the prohibition of pigs becomes part of the ceremonial law. The avoidance of pork becomes a mysterious symbol of the holiness of God and his people.

Franz Kafka once wrote a brief parable about the origin of a fabulous Temple ritual: “Leopards break into the Temple and drink to the dregs what is in the sacrificial pitchers; this is repeated over and over again; finally it can be calculated in advance, and it becomes a part of the ceremony.”1 In this strange, dreamlike way, a random and perhaps terrifying event comes to be ritualized as part of the sacred routine. As a Temple ritual, it would naturally be invested with deep theological significance. In this way, a recurring historical event becomes a mysterious religious symbol. […]