Kosher-Halal Hotdogs
Avi followed the flow of the crowd around the stadium’s concourse, assaulted in all directions by the vivid smells of fried chickpeas, caramelized onions, and the sweat of thousands of fans like him. The hot sun at high noon was thankfully filtered through the translucent solar-fabric dome stretched across the entire stadium, turning their drenched sweat to a more comfortable temperature.
The Tel Aviv and Gaza teams were busy playing in the bottom of the fifth inning, tied at three runs apiece. There were a lot of cheers coming from the stadium, but Avi felt a pang of hunger that he could no longer ignore.
“Did you see that curveball?” Omar nudged Avi as the two friends walked through the concourse. “A perfect spin. Beautiful physics.”
“Sure, I guess it was a good pitch,” Avi mumbled back, not even paying attention to the game at this point. His eyes were drawn to a new vendor kiosk.
“Cultured pork hot dogs!” it advertised with a holographic sign whose text rotated through a rainbow of bright neon colors. Next to the text was the logo of the Joint Reform Kosher & Halal Council giving their approval, a double helix intertwined with an olive branch. There was already a long line of fans buried in their phones, taking selfies with hot dogs in the background.
“Omar, look,” Avi gave him a quick nudge with his elbow. “Eden Pork is finally here. I remember reading the white paper when it first was announced. I can’t believe it’s finally available.”
“Look at that line,” Omar pointed to a different line of people standing silently with long black coats and white thobes.
Haredi men stood side-by-side with devout Muslims. All of their faces were grim and their hands were folded together in a sign of protest. Their silent disapproval was all the condemnation they needed to stand out in the jubilant atmosphere.
“Whatever, it’s progress,” Avi responded with a quick shrug. “I’m getting two. In buns.”
After a few minutes in line, he came back to his friend with two dogs still steaming sitting in little cardboard trays, wrapped in long buns. He held out one of the franks to Omar.
“Here, taste the new world,” Avi offered him.
“No, I’m not feeling hungry,” Omar said distantly, still looking at the protestors. In particular, he was staring at one of the old Imans with a long white beard draped over his simple shirt.
“That man reminds me of my grandfather,” Omar said so quietly that Avi had to lean in to hear him over the noise of the stadium. “He also had a scar on his forehead. My grandfather got one when when a piece of scaffolding fell on him. It is only from Allah’s mercy it didn’t hit his eye and blind him.”
“Omar, it’s not pig. The joint council has ruled that, since it’s just porcine fibroblasts... you know, stem cells, there is no slaughter. The harvest happened once without even a slaughter occurring. The Council Rabbis and Reform Imams concur.”
“You can try to sterilize the process. Print out certificates and get approvals...” Omar shook his head slowly, sadly. Avi could see the deep melancholy in his eyes. “But God’s laws are not scientific problems that we are supposed to solve and overcome. Rules are meant to be obeyed.”
Their conversation was broken by a sharp crack from the direction of the stadium. Avi turned his head and held his breath as the ball soared in a perfect arc far past third base all the way towards the wall.
Then, the ball cleared the fence. The Maccabees had just hit a home run. A roar of cheers erupted from the stadium, followed by music blasting way too loudly over the speakers which had been planted every couple of yards around the concourse. All together, the cacophony was too overwhelming for Omar to continue his whispered conversation.
Avi took a bite of his hot dog. The texture was a bit greasy and unusually smooth. As he chewed a bite, he got an assortment of flavors: smoke, savory, and a bit salty. He watched the line of young people cheering and taking pictures as the baseball players rounded the bases.
Then his eyes drifted back to the wall of traditionalists, who continued to stand there stoically. Omar watched them with what Avi could only describe as envy.
Avi felt a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He had hoped that these hot dogs could be a symbol of unity, that the two sides could finally bury their old ways and agree to a new path together based around science and rationality. Now he was beginning to understand that while some divisions could be healed, new ones would always emerge. He swallowed hard, worried that this new line could cut him away from Omar forever.