Jewish culture offers some interesting insights on this topic.

A Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 2:2) tells that when Moses was still a shepherd, he noticed a lamb had strayed from the flock. He searched for it with great care until he found it by a stream, thirsty and exhausted. He gently picked it up in his arms and carried it back to the flock. According to this text, it was precisely this act of empathy that revealed his true nature, and because of it, he was chosen to lead the people of Israel.

This story teaches a lesson about compassion for all living beings, especially the most vulnerable, and raises an important question: if the Torah educates us to show mercy even toward a single lamb, how should we approach food in an ethical and mindful way?



The laws of kashrut allow the consumption of meat, but this only comes at a later stage. In the biblical account of Creation, we read: “And Elohim said, ‘Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the face of the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit.’” [Gen. 1:29] The medieval commentator Rashi notes in this context that, until after the Flood, all humans were vegetarians. In fact, the permission to eat meat comes immediately after the Flood: “Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you, as I gave you the green plants, I give you everything.” [Gen. 9:3] However, this possibility is immediately restricted by the next verse, which prohibits the consumption of blood, the vital essence that must therefore be removed from the meat. Consequently, the permission to consume meat comes only after the Flood as an evident concession to human aggression and destructiveness, but this allowance also contains a limitation. This utility is completely negated in the present-day situation where meat is consumed in a context entirely disconnected from the act of slaughter. It would be quite different if everyone somehow participated in the killing of the animals they eat (and many would immediately stop consuming them).



For a long time, meat consumption in biblical civilization was permitted only for sacrificial purposes, thus preserving the sanctity and gravity of the act, which served to nourish the priests who, in large part, lived off that meat. Only in the later biblical legislation, in Deut. 12:20-21, was this norm modified, alongside the centralization of worship at the Jerusalem Temple, a reform that prevented those living far from the sanctuary from going there to offer sacrifices. Moreover, it is interesting to note that, considering that biblical literature, like any other, is the result of revisions, interpolations, and various editorial interventions, the editors chose to preserve these different stages in the text, demonstrating a deliberate intention to transmit an attitude of great prudence and moderation toward this practice.



There exists an ancient Jewish idea, still present in some circles today, according to which eating meat is a requirement for festive days. This thought clearly developed during times of poverty when meat was consumed only during festive occasions in any culture. Often, a Talmudic passage is cited in support of this idea: “There is no banquet without meat and wine” [BT Pesachim 109a]. But a closer reading of that text shows that the meat in question was sacrificial meat, a requirement at the time of the Temple in Jerusalem, but after that time and in the absence of sacrificial worship, wine (or grape juice) is more than sufficient. One of the most important texts in Jewish law, the sixteenth-century Shulchan Aruch [O.H. 529:1], explains the importance of having celebratory meals for Shabbat and holidays, but does not require that meat be consumed at those meals.



Having noted that the original intent of the Torah was for humanity to be vegetarian, some, such as Rabbi A.I. Kook [1865–1935, first Chief Rabbi of the Jewish community during the British Mandate in Palestine], interpret passages like “The lion, like the ox, will eat straw... They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain” (Isaiah 11:7-9) to mean that in the Messianic era, humanity will necessarily be vegetarian. While there is not yet enough maturity for this to happen, the consumption of meat is permitted by Jewish law with many restrictions, likely placed also to prevent the act from becoming too common. The laws that make certain meats theoretically kosher, or fit for consumption, are complex enough to suggest they aim to act as a deterrent to such usage.



To this, we must add the Jewish legal principle of tsaar baalei chayim, the prohibition of causing suffering to any living creature. The dietary laws of kashrut stipulate that when slaughtering an animal, it should be killed in the most rapid and painless manner, but it is clear that the most effective way to adhere to these laws is to not kill any animals at all.

Unfortunately, kashrut has often focused on very strict ritual details while distancing itself from one of its core missions, which is to educate towards ethical eating. So-called kosher meat comes from animals raised not unlike others, and even where the slaughter may be less cruel in some aspects, this does not resolve the ethical core of their living conditions and their often brutal killing.


In the past, ritual slaughter could perhaps have been a way to give more justice to the gravity of the act through its rituality, as in the Jewish case of burying the blood of certain animals, along with the effort to make the act as painless as possible for the animal. But nowadays, it seems that both of these aspects have become obsolete. The ritual aspect remains restricted to those performing the slaughter and has no pedagogical value for the consumer, and this is also true for the mode of killing, which, while aiming to reduce the pain, still takes the life of a living being.


Today, a renewed sense of respect for the environment and animal life must remind us of the need for kashrut to also incorporate principles such as bal tashchit, the prohibition against wasting any resource, and tsaar baalei chayim, the prohibition of causing suffering to any living creature. Moreover, many studies now show the health benefits of a vegetarian diet and debunk the myth of the necessity of consuming meat and fish. The development of lab-grown meat is undoubtedly a very interesting and important aspect in this regard, and it is regrettable that the current Italian government has banned it in our country, one of many expressions of a backwards and short-sighted attitude, which unfortunately makes us Europe’s laggard in many ways. Doubts and fears about lab-grown meat (which is maliciously referred to as “synthetic”) can be overcome through proper information, not swayed by economic or political interests. Contributing to the argument against lab-grown meat does not provide a way out of the current harmful and violent system, but rather promotes the continuation of animal exploitation and environmental destruction.

Beyond the strictly Jewish legal discourse, which concerns only observant Jews, Jewish thought often raises questions and interrogates impulses and tensions that are absolutely universal. Personally, I believe that the necessary work for a more mature and conscious humanity inevitably involves renouncing the consumption of living beings. I don’t know if this will truly bring us closer to the Messianic era, but I do believe it would make humanity a little better. The argument that even some humans of noted cruelty were vegetarians is not very convincing, because every rule has exceptions, and also because even a broken clock shows the correct time twice a day. However, an observation must be made here. There is indeed a risk, as Rav Kook alludes to, that a great focus on animals could reduce our attention toward human beings, or even strengthen it in a detrimental way. Paradoxically, we may find it relatively easy to show kindness to creatures very different from us, but this could make us feel superior and, therefore, less inclined to adopt the same attitude toward our fellow humans, with whom it is often more difficult to empathize, because, due to apparent proximity, cultural differences seem even greater, insurmountable, and often intolerable. Without invoking great dictators who were notably vegetarians, we have all met people who were more attentive to animals than to humans, and this also happens in certain animal-rights circles, but these realities should only remind us of the need for balance and caution in our choices, in light of the complexity of human nature. Our current understanding of what we are and our degree of interdependence with the rest of the natural world makes it urgent to engage in both individual and collective reflection on the subject.


It is essential to realize that our treatment of animals is not just a moral concern, but a reflection of our own humanity. As we turn towards greater ecological awareness and the profound interconnectedness of life, we must ask ourselves: can we truly progress as a species while perpetuating practices that dehumanize ourselves? The act of consuming life becomes a mirror to our ethical evolution. In choosing to abandon violence in our diet, we don’t just honor the lives of animals; we acknowledge the possibility of a world where empathy transcends species, and where humanity’s moral compass points toward peace, respect, and sustainability. This vision, though idealistic, is grounded in the ancient wisdom of the Torah, which calls for a careful and reverent stewardship of all life, inviting us to reconsider our place in the natural order.


In conclusion, the ongoing debate over meat consumption, its ethical implications, and the role of Jewish law in this discourse, serves as a critical reminder of our responsibility toward the world around us. This is not merely a dietary issue but a profound moral challenge that will shape the future of our relationship with the planet and all its creatures.

An important principle in Judaism states: “And you shall guard your lives very well” [Deut. 4:15]. Caring means also not adopting destructive behaviors that worsen our being, sometimes surreptitiously but no less problematic. On the contrary, nurturing attitudes of respect and awareness can help us remember the potential for growth and life we carry with us and use it better. And in this, it seems there is already a hint of the Messianic era.