This Little Piggy Went to Shul

Published in The Jewish Star
Issue of March 5, 2010/ 20 Adar 5770

When my friends were dressing as Queen Esther, I donned red spots and a long tail and went to school as Vashti. So I get it. I get not wanting to dress like Esther, despite the fact that she was both beauty queen and brave heroine – the stuff of Disney dreams. I enjoy originality and surprise in daily life. And to this day, I am nearly as excited as my children when I dress up for megilah reading on Purim.

Between the fantastic story, the costumes and the candy, it is no wonder Purim ranks high on the list of holidays for young children. While the kids were counting down the hours until Purim last week, my 8-year-old explained that we dress in costume to conceal our identities as a reminder that Hashem hid his face (hester panim) and his involvement in rescuing the Jews from Haman. We discussed the fact that even without obvious signs, like the splitting of a sea, if we pay attention, we can witness Hashem’s miracles even today.

My husband and I set guidelines for Purim costumes: no guns, no swords, no guts and no gore. And each costume must meet with our approval. The boys have been through the drill before, so our 2010 Purim costume pursuit ended rather safely for them, with one confirmed football player and one eager alien. However, we were a tad unprepared for the challenge presented by our 3-year-old daughter. She wanted nothing to do with Queen Esther or Cinderella, Dora or Daisy. Instead, she insisted, repeatedly, that she would only be a pig for Purim.

The child in question is inexplicably obsessed with pigs. Pink pigs, black pigs, clean pigs, muddy pigs, stuffed pigs and live pigs. They are all “soooo cute” in the eyes of our little beholder.

I take some responsibility. I gave each of my children a super soft, large Ganz plush stuffed animal at birth. A blue bear and faded-purple hippo, both with frayed satin paws, are now cherished old friends. By the time our daughter was born, Ganz was no longer making these plush animals so I hit the laptop to search for discontinued toys. Google’s top-secret algorithm sleuthed … a pink pig. It wasn’t the ideal choice but it seemed to be the last Ganz on earth and I wanted her to have it.

As expected, “Piggy” served an important role as the first stuffed pet. But, unlike her predecessors, Piggy seems to have inspired a deep love of all things swine for my daughter. Over the years, family and friends have indulged and enabled, and now we have an impressive collection of pigs, plastic, plush, battery-operated, singing (Elvis songs) and dancing pigs. What more could a girl want?

A pig costume, of course.

While the plethora of pig paraphernalia leads me to believe she is not the only young child enchanted by pigs, something tells me she may be the only Orthodox Jewish toddler to find such favor in swine.

In truth, pigs have been a dirty little family secret of late. When our daughter came home from school last year in a panic that Old McDonald no longer had pigs on his farm, we learned that the Israeli day care preferred not to even acknowledge the existence of the breed.

Evidently, our day care is not alone and pigs have been banished from the vernacular in schools from Borough Park to Bergenfield. As a matter of fact, in Israel, where pig-related laws come straight from the Knesset, it is illegal to raise pigs and they are often referred to by euphemism as “white meat.” (Once, while at a fleshig kosher restaurant in Israel, my stepfather, aiming for an order of chicken, requested “white meat,” to the horror of his waiter.) As noted by Daphne

Barak-Erez, author of “Outlawed Pigs: Law, Religion, and Culture in Israel,” the pig is no more un-kosher than a bunny rabbit or even the Hoopoe, Israel’s state bird.

“The Torah does not set apart the pig as uniquely abhorrent,” she writes.
Nonetheless, pigs have come to represent all things treif.

With this in mind, I wondered how everyone would react if we brought a little piggy to shul? I did what every good Jew should do and asked a rabbi whether pigs are off-limits entirely, or just for eating. And then I did what every good Jew should not do… and asked another rabbi, and another and another. Luckily for me, each rabbi gave the same answer. A pig costume would be fine. I was thrilled. If I am honest, I think it is hysterical that she loves pigs and have been a willing enabler of the unfortunate obsession.

So with some help from Amazon.com, we escorted our pro-football player, alien and proud little piggy to shul. I totally shepped some nachas that what she lacked in jewels and sparkle, she made up for with spunk and originally. While friends did chuckle (and her great-grandmother feared for future shidduchim) no one seemed offended by her choice.

By the time we left shul, it was way past our daughter’s bedtime and she was pooped. As the carnival music faded behind us, I watched her waddle through the snow holding her tail with one hand while trying to keep up with her brothers. We followed them by a few steps and though they were all still in disguise, I saw under a football helmet, an alien mask and soft pig ears — the miracles that are part of my every day.