Dr. Velvl Greene was a professor of epidemiology at the University of Minnesota around 1960. He worked on NASA's program to find life on Mars. Despite being a scientist immersed in the secular world, his path would cross with Rabbi Moshe Feller. Once, before a trip, Rabbi Feller convinced the professor to order a kosher airline meal to inspire other Jewish passengers.
"If it will make you happy, I'll do you the favor," Dr. Greene reluctantly agreed, though he continued eating non-kosher at home.
On the flight, disaster struck. His kosher meal never arrived. While other passengers enjoyed their dinner, Greene sat hungry and increasingly frustrated. His anger built: at the airline, at himself for agreeing to this arrangement, and especially at Rabbi Feller for putting him in this position.
During a midnight stopover at Chicago's O'Hare airport, the hungry professor spotted an open non-kosher hot dog stand. The aroma was irresistible. Fuming, he called Rabbi Feller collect to announce his rebellion.
"I'm about to eat a non-kosher hot dog with mustard, onions, relish and kraut," he declared, "and with each bite, I'll be thinking of you!"
The rabbi listened patiently before responding with unexpected simplicity: "Velvl, you've often asked me about the essence of Judaism. Tonight, I'll tell you. It's about passing the hot dog stand and not buying one. That's all of Judaism; the rest is commentary."
"You're crazy!" the professor exclaimed before hanging up.
At the counter, something profound happened. He couldn't bring himself to order. In that moment of hesitation, a deeper understanding emerged. The kosher laws, which seemed arbitrary and inconvenient, suddenly revealed their spiritual purpose. This wasn't about food or rules; it was about his relationship with G-d and his identity as a Jew.
The kosher laws, like many Jewish traditions, aren't always easily explained through logic. They are chukim—divine statutes given without explicit rationale. Yet throughout history, these practices have served as a daily reminder of Jewish identity and covenant. In choosing to pass by that hot dog stand, Dr. Greene wasn't just making a dietary choice; he was embracing his heritage and reconnecting with something eternal.
Dr. Greene never ate non-kosher again. That single moment of choice, that small "no" to a hot dog, became a transformative "yes" to a deeper, more meaningful life.
What mitzvah is your “hot dog” that can transform your relationship with Hashem, because you embraced the connection over the hunger pangs.
Have a good Shabbos,
Rabbi Kushi Schusterman