Jews Don't Fish!?!

"Jews don’t fish.” It is a phrase I have heard again and again in the two and a half years that I have written this blog. Perhaps there is some kind of anti-fishing bias out there among my fellow Jews. What exactly is not kosher about fishing? Is it true that Jews don’t fish?

The most common Jewish objection that I hear about fishing is that it is cruel to the fish. It is one thing to eat trout since we need sustenance, but to fish for sport is not ethical. One person even wrote to me that if I enjoy being in nature so much, why not go for a hike, instead of torturing the fish?

I share these concerns for the ethics of fly fishing. I practice catch and release. I take steps to insure that the fish are returned to the water with a minimum of disturbance. I would argue that catch and release is better for the planet and the fish. If every fish caught was kept for food, our streams and lakes would soon be empty.

Fishing is not hiking; it is an activity that involves life and death, and connects us to a more primal side of ourselves that we do not often experience in our 21st Century lives. However, when I am on the stream, I seek to make fly fishing as humane and ethical as possible.

Along with concern for the ethics of fishing, perhaps the anti-fishing bias is an unintended result of the Jewish emphasis on eduction. We are the people of the book. Our most holy object is a scroll of writing, the Torah. Education helped our immigrant ancestors get out of the Lower East Side and the crowded inner cities and succeed beyond our wildest expectations in America.

Yet, this emphasis on education also created the stereotype that Jews only care about intellectual pursuits. Somehow it got to be a Jewish cultural value to say that success in sports and outdoor activities like fishing are less worthwhile than getting good grades and succeeding in school.

The fact is that getting into a good college is probably more important than being good at fly fishing. Education gives your more options in life. However, there is nothing wrong with pursuing activities that require you to use your body and not just your mind.

One of the reasons that I love to fly fish is that it gives my brain a rest. Casting a fly rod is about feeling the physicality of the line in your fingers and trying to make a small bunch of feathers and thread land gracefully on the water. Fly Fishing also feeds my soul. Standing in a stream at sunrise, I appreciate the beauty of our world, and feel a deep spiritual connection to all that is around me.

Along with hearing the phrase “Jews don’t fish,” I also receive many emails that begin something like this: “Dear Rabbi, It’s so nice to meet another Jew who loves to fish. I thought I was the only one out there!” I have learned that Jews do fish! And there are plenty of people who find fishing to be a spiritual experience, both Jews and non-Jews. It seems to me that our energy is better spent not worrying about stereotypes, but instead pursuing those activities in life that provide us with fulfillment and meaning, no matter what they are.

What is A Fly Fishing Rabbi?

On Friday nights you can find me leading services at Temple Shearith Israel in Ridgefield, Connecticut. But on Sunday summer afternoons chances are I’ll be waist-deep in a cold-water stream, casting my dry flies to those mysterious and hidden trout. On the pulpit I am known as Rabbi Eisenkramer; on the river, I am The Fly Fishing Rabbi.

My introduction to fly fishing was the film A River Runs Through It, which interweaves fishing, religion, Montana, and early 20th-century life. As the narrator Norman Maclean explains, “In my family, there was no clear division between religion and fly fishing.” The wondrous Montana scenery, the graceful casting, the excitement of the rising fish—to put it simply, I was hooked. Not long afterwards I purchased my first fly-fishing rod, a St. Croix 5/6 weight 8’6” which serves me well to this day.

I have since discovered a kindred spirit in the Reverend John Maclean, Norman’s father, who dedicated much of his adult life to searching for trout and for God, both of which can be equally elusive. Fly fishing is indeed a spiritual experience—one of the two sanctuaries of my life. On the trout stream it’s just me, the water, and the fish. All my worries disappear. I am in the moment, so caught up in the casting for trout that everything else recedes.

One of my favorite rivers is in a nature preserve. Sometimes a family of ducks swims by, first the mother, then six young ones rustling their baby feathers. In silence I watch them pass. As I walk to my car at sunset, I sometimes see a small herd of deer among the trees. I stop. In silence we stare at each other. I feel in harmony with nature: man and ducks, man and deer, God’s creatures, spending a moment together, sharing the same space, suspended in time.

Of course, the trout and I do not have such an idyllic relationship. I am either catching and releasing them or getting frustrated that they will not take my fly. Still, when I’m standing in a river fishing, not moving, not talking, hearing only the sounds of insects and flowing water, I feel at peace with all around me.

It is when we are in harmony with our surroundings that we find shalom, peace. The root meaning of shalom is wholeness or completeness. Psalm 34 teaches us, bakesh shalom v’rodfeihu, “Seek peace and pursue it.” Here shalom has a double meaning—not only to end conflict and war, but to seek harmony and wholeness in our lives.

On one fishing trip in rural Missouri, I decided to hike to the source of the river. There I discovered a cold water spring rushing forth from the rocks, feeding a large circular pool, sending thousands of gallons of pure water down the river. Watching it, I felt the wonder of nature and of its Creator. I thought of the Israelites in the desert, parched and without water, of Moses striking the rock and releasing a copious stream.

Feelings of appreciation and connection to nature are a doorway that can lead to the Divine. The story is told of a doctor who watched a solar eclipse. Awed by the beauty of this event, he clapped and cried out: “Encore, Encore!”—and then, upon reflection, he added: “Author, Author!” When fly fishing I feel the same impulse. Sometimes I find myself moved to say, “Baruch Atah Adonai, eloheinu melech haOlam, Blessed are You, Adonai our God, who creates all.”

One need not be a rabbi or a fly fisherman to unearth the spiritual possibilities of the natural world. We need only open our eyes to God’s sanctuary to find beauty, awe, and peace.

This article first appeared in Reform Judaism Magazine

Casting for Trout on Rosh Hashanah?

Rosh Hashanah, which falls in September or October, is the Jewish New Year.  Rosh Hashanah begins the High Holidays, a period of reflection which includes the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur. On Rosh Hashanah, Jews celebrate the new year, but we also think about our lives and the direction in which we are heading. Judaism teaches that the new year is the time to begin to fix our mistakes, to apologize and to forgive others.

Dealing with our wrongdoings and asking forgiveness does not seem to have anything to do with fly fishing, that is until you participate in the ritual of Tashlich. Both fly fishing and tashlich take place on the water. They each involve casting. Both are also cleansing for our souls.

The word tashlich means “to cast out” and refers to a short service that takes place on the afternoon of Rosh Hashanah. The congregation travels to a body of water. Together they stand and read this verse from the prophet Micah: “He (God) will take us back in love. He will cover up our iniquities. You will cast all of our sins into the depths of the sea.” Then each person throws breadcrumbs, representing our wrongdoings, into the water. By casting the crumbs into the sea, we symbolically rid ourselves of the errors of the past and we resolve to act better in the year to come.

Taschlich happens in all sorts of places. In my congregation we go to a beautiful grassy area on the harbor. We look out at the sailboats and the light waves of the ocean, and we cast our breadcrumbs out to the ducks, who greedily partake of our offering. Taslich can take place at any body of water. Jews in New York City go to the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges to cast their wrongs into the East River. If you do not live near the ocean or a river, you can do taschlich on a pond or even a mikveh, the Jewish ritual bath.

During tashlich, there is casting, but without a fly fishing rod. With bread on the water, the fish and ducks come to feed. One of my readers remembers doing tashlich on the Farmington River in Connecticut, with the trout rising to the bread crumbs. Maybe casting crumbs into a river is the best way to fly fish, since the trout get to eat without fear and we feel better for throwing our wrongs away.

One time during the ceremony, a child asked me: “Rabbi, isn’t it bad for the ducks and fish to eat our sins?” I replied that when we do something wrong, it hurts others. But when we throw the breadcrumbs into the water, they are not bad anymore. Now they are feeding the animals. Just like the wrongs that became food for the fish, when we apologize and try to fix our mistakes, we turn our bad deeds into good things in the world.

One of my readers reports that whenever his wife feels that he really needs to go fly fishing and get out of the house, she says to him: “Go do taschlich.” This wise woman knows that taschlich and fly fishing can accomplish the same purpose: they help us recharge, feel refreshed, and perhaps even cleanse our souls. Even if I do not get a single bite in a day of fly fishing, I still relish the time spent on the water, with only the fish, the trees and the sounds of the river. When I return home, I feel that I took a break from the world and found some peace and perspective.

So this year on Rosh Hashanah, when I go to do taschlich, I’ll probably be wishing that I had my Orvis rod with me. I may wonder how big the bass are near the shore. And I’ll think about how to tie a fly that looks like a breadcrumb. But when I cast my crumbs into the water, I will also reflect on how to transform my own wrongdoings into good. I will think about how I will act in the New Year. And I will cast my mistakes into the sea, and begin the new year with the intent of becoming a better person.

My best wishes for a happy, healthy and sweet new year,

The Fly Fishing Rabbi, Eric Eisenkramer

A Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah

As a rabbi, I officiate at many Bar and Bat Mitzvah services, where a 13 year old boy or girl becomes a Jewish adult. It is a powerful and beautiful ceremony. For the party after the service, many people choose a theme, usually a sport or hobby that the child enjoys. I have seen parties that focus on soccer, tennis, baseball, horse-back riding, golf, video games, and any other activity that you can imagine. However, one idea that I have yet to personally witness at a Bar Mitzvah is fly fishing. What would happen at a Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah?

First, it’s time for a little Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah party planning. When you enter the party room, you would see pictures of the boy or girl on beautiful mountain streams with nice size trout adorning the walls. Fishing songs might find their way into DJ’s music mix. There would be a song for every musical taste: From Louis Armstrong’s “Gone’ Fishin’” and “Crawfish” by Elvis to “Catfish John” by The Grateful Dead and “Catfish Blues” by Jimi Hendrix. (Crawfish and catfish are not kosher, but there is nothing wrong with singing about them!) Or the playlist might also include “Wading in the Velvet Sea” by Phish, the perfectly named band to hear at a Fly Fishing Bar Mizvah!

When the music died down, all of the guests would head to their tables for dinner. There they would find fly fishing table decorations, like those that were made by one of my readers: “I'm making a faux fishing rod out of 1/4" PVC pipe, spray-painted black, the reel will be made out of used wire spools, spray-painted silver, a fishing net made out of flexible foam pipe-cover and netting, and in the middle will be a wicker basket in the shape of a boat, inside which will contain cans of tuna fish, sardines, salmon. I'm making the centerpieces myself to keep the cost down, so that I can fill those baskets with lots of fish and then donate those to our local food shelter.”

At a Bar Mitzvah or wedding, some people replace an expensive party centerpiece with something more simple. A note is attached saying that the money saved on the centerpieces will be donated to charity or that the centerpiece itself will be given to those in need. Amidst the celebration, music and food (smoked salmon or trout on the menu?), a Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would have a higher purpose as well, helping others.

Picture: Baskets made by my 7th graders at North Shore Synagogue to be given away to others.

The ceremony of a Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would be unique. During a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, the young adult reads from the Torah, the Bible, in Hebrew. A Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would read from the book of Jonah, the prophet who was swallowed by a whale. A careful reading of the Hebrew shows that Jonah was actually swallowed by fish. Perhaps its every fly fishers’ worst nightmare, instead of catching the trout, it catches us!

In the book, Jonah wanted to flee from the task that God gave him, and he was eventually thrown into the sea. God sent a fish to swallow him and save his life, and Jonah spent three days and three nights in the belly of that fish. In that dark smelly place, Jonah leaned lessons about running away from his problems and seeking God’s help in dark times. Then Jonah prayed and the fish spit him out on dry land.

Picture: Whale-watching near Boston. Maybe this was Jonah's fish?

A Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would also give a speech, teaching a lesson for today’s world that is derived from the Bible. He or she might tell this tale: “The Jewish Salmon that spawned and left Egypt,” inspired by one of my readers.

The Jewish salmon began life in a river, her homeland. But soon she gets bored and leaves home, as all children do. The salmon heads out to sea, but finds it lonely and sad there. She is in Egypt, living in exile. After many years in the ocean, she wants to return home and spawn. There is an Exodus, Moses splits the sea, and the salmon swims back to towards the river where she was born. The trip back home to the stream is long and arduous. Like the Jews wandering in the desert for 40 years, the salmon continues to swim with little food and dwindling strength. She finally makes it home, to the River of the Promised Land. She lays her eggs, and the next salmon is born, who will also live the same cycle of exile, exodus and return.

Many Bar or Bat Mitzvah speeches include a line saying that he or she will donate a portion of their gifts to tzedakah, charity, to help others. At a Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah, the new Jewish adult might give some of his monetary gifts to Trout Unlimited, The Nature Conservancy, American Rivers, American Forests or the Federation of Fly Fishers. All of these organizations seek to preserve nature and trout streams. They need our support to keep the rivers clean and full of fish for generations to come. Casting for Recovery is a terrific organization as well, that sponsors fly fishing retreats for women recovering from breast cancer. To learn more about these charities, look in the box on the right side of my website entitled “Fly Fishing Charities,” and click on the links.

The Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would be a day of joyous celebration, good food and great music. But it would be more than a party. A Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah would celebrate a milestone in the life of a family, that their son or daughter is moving towards adulthood. The young man or woman would read from the Torah and affirm their place in the chain of the Jewish people, extending from Moses until today. And this day would also remind the Bar or Bat Mitzvah of what we hope they become, not just an adult, but also a good person, a mensch, one who seeks to help others and to repair our world.

Gefilte Fishing

On Passover, the youngest child asks the 4 questions. But this year, I found myself stumped by a 5th question: How do you catch a gefilte fish?

As the Fly Fishing Rabbi, I would like to tell you that I have a special blessing to catch this distant Jewish relative of the trout. But sadly in my trips to fish the great gefilte lakes of upstate New York, the wise and elusive gefilte fish has often found a way to elude me.

And so in honor of Passover, let me share a few bits of wisdom about “Gefilte Fishing” adapted from a piece by Lawrence Sherry:

“Many times I have been upset by people who seem to think that gefilte fish is some kind of mixture you make in the kitchen rather than one of God’s creatures. This has led me to explain exactly what a gefilte fish is.

Each year as soon as the frost on the Great Gefilte Lakes (located in upstate New York, somewhere in the Catskill Mountains) is thin enough to break the surface, fly fishers set out to "catch" gefilte fish. Now unlike your normal fish, gefilte fish can not be caught with a rod and a reel or your standard dry flies.

The art of catching gefilte fish was handed down for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. For all I know Moses used to go gefilte fishing in the Red Sea.

So how is it done? You go up to the lake with some matzah. At the edge of the lake, you stand and whistle and say "here boy", "here boy". If you are a Yiddish speaker, you can also say: “here boychick.” The fish just can't resist the smell of the matzah. They come in mass to the edge of the lake where they jump into the jars and are bottled on the spot.

Picture: The Matzah Fly for catching Gefilte Fish... Courtsey of Len, a reader of The Fly Fishing Rabbi

I am still a little bothered by which end of the gefilte fish is the head and which the tail (not to mention that I am not sure where their eyes are). This is a small price to pay the luxury of eating this delicacy.”

To read Lawrence Sherry’s entire article “Gefilte Fishing,” CLICK HERE.

Below please find a recipe for Gefilte Trout, courtesy of Gordon, one of the readers of The Fly Fishing Rabbi. If anyone has ever made Gefilte Trout, let me know how it was!

My best wishes to everyone for a healthy and happy Passover.

The Fly Fishing Rabbi,
Eric Eisenkramer

Gefilte Trout!
Courtesy of: Gordon

7 -7 ½ lbs fresh caught trout
(Filleted, with skin, bones, and heads saved)
4 qts. Water
3 t. salt
3 med. Onions
4 med. Carrots
3-4 lg. eggs
(Sugar to taste – (Ugh!) only if your Grandparents were from Poland )
~ /2 C. cold water
~1/3 C Matzah Meal
Salt and Pepper
1. Put bones, skin, and heads in pot with water. More if needed to cover. Bring to boil and skim as necessary.
2. Add 1 onion, 3 carrots and bring back to boil, turn down and simmer ~20 – 30 min while preparing fish.
3. Grind fish, onion, and carrot together
4. Mix fish with salt and pepper, and one egg at a time. Add Matzah meal just to bind (add cod water if you went too far).
5. Form into ovals (football shape if fine)
6. Put into lightly simmering fish stock and cook until done ~20 to 30 min.
7. Take out and let cool. Strain stock and pour over fish. Put in fridge, the stock should gel.
8. Serve cold with horseradish.

Note: Traditionally my Bubbie made it with equal parts Carp, Whitefish, and Pike.
This actually works and more importantly, tastes great.

Fly Fishing, The Off Season & Shabbat

It’s December, and fly fishing feels like a distant memory. For me, the fly fishing season runs from April through September, although rarely do I fish much into September. That is when another season begins, the time of the High Holidays. When Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur arrive, I am too busy thinking about sermons, prayer and penitence to make it to the cold water streams. And by the time all four of the Fall Jewish Holidays end (including Sukkot and Simchat Torah), it is already October. In my life, the fly fishing season gives way to the High Holiday season, and after that, winter has already arrived.

For some people, there is no time off from fly fishing. I often read about those who pile on layer upon layer of wool and fleece and neoprene, and then wade into 35 degree water in February. A good friend of mine, Jon O., likes to go ice-fishing in Michigan. That’s where you sit in a small hut on an ice-covered lake, drill a hole, drop in your line and freeze all day, hoping for a bite. He loves it. Sounds cold to me.

I actually think it is good to have an off-season for fly fishing. A time to re-charge and prepare for the spring. Judaism affirms that all of life, including fly fishing, needs an off-season. Each week, we Jews celebrate Shabbat, a day dedicated to rest and refreshment. The Torah says that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh, celebrating the first Shabbat. And we imitate God one day each week by praying, being with family, taking a break and recharging our batteries. If winter is the off season for fly fishing, Shabbat is the off season for our souls.

I once heard a quote that Shabbat is like the pause between notes in a great piece of music. If music happened without end, without a rest, it would be overwhelming. Great artistry can be found as much in the choice of notes as the space offered between them and the anticipation of the music to come.

In my opinion, Shabbat and the fly fishing off-season mean to teach us some of the same values. They give us a time to rest, recharge and prepare for the next adventure. And they cultivate within us a sense of anticipation and excitement for our next undertaking. There are few things more exciting than the beginning of April, when you enter the cold water streams for the first time in months. There is one final lesson that Shabbat, and the off-season teach us: appreciation. When the fly fishing season returns after a long hiatus, we realize that fishing for trout, and all the good things in our lives, are precious gifts from a source much greater than ourselves.

Opening the Inbox: A Fly-fishing Bar Mitzvah?

This week I received a fantastic and entertaining e-mail about "A Fly Fishing Bar Mitzvah.” I love getting e-mail, so please write me by clicking on the “Contact Me” link to your right.

Dear Rabbi-

I belong to a reform synagogue in Michigan and my son's bar mitzvah is coming up in March. As you know, often times the "party" to celebrate the bar mitzvah has a theme. Soccer, hockey, tennis, all very easy themes for boys and very common. But in our case, my son's passion is fly fishing.

This tradition runs long in our family - my husband's father was a fly fisherman and my husband grew up fishing from the age of 6. My soon-to-be bar mitzvah boy heard fish stories in utero; he was practically born with a rod in his hand.... So of course it is natural for me to think of a fly fishing theme for his bar mitzvah party. We'll be having the reception at the synagogue. On my side of the family, conservative Jews, fishing is unheard of. My brother tells me "Jews don't fish". Is there some little passage in the bible that tells us that Jews don't fish? My son also catches and releases and tries to be as respectful of the fish as he can. I googled "bar mitzvah theme fishing" and came up with a big zero.

So now I am starting to wonder if there is some unkosher aspect of fishing and being Jewish - since no one seems to have this fly fishing theme bar mitzvah. Will I be making a big faux paux at the synagogue by having a fly fishing themed bar mitzvah? Also, would it be inappropriate to somehow represent Sam's passion for rivers and fishing on the invitation? Or should I keep the bar mitzvah invitation theme neutral and just stick with a symbol of the Torah or a star of David?

Thanks for your input.

-Mother of the fly fishing bar mitzvah boy

P.S. As a footnote, for the table decorations, I'm making a faux fishing rod out of 1/4" PVC pipe, spray painted black, the reel will be made out of used wire spools, spray painted silver, a fishing net made out of flexible foam pipe-cover and netting, and in the middle will be a wicker basket in the shape of a boat, inside which will contain cans of tuna fish, sardines, salmon. I'm making the centerpieces myself to keep the cost down, so that I can fill those baskets with lots of fish and then donate those to our local food shelter.


Dear Mother of the fly fishing bar mitzvah boy,

Thank you for your wonderful e-mail! Let me now offer a few thoughts.

It is true that there seems to be some kind of prejudice against fishing in Judaism. Or as your brother so aptly put it: "Jews don't fish." I'm not sure exactly where this bias came from, but I suspect it has to do with assimilation and separation in America.

When our grandparents or great-grandparents came to this country, they wanted to keep their Jewish identity. Often they lived in their own Jewish neighborhoods. And there was anti-Semitism so that Jews were excluded from country clubs, and even universities. Perhaps some Jews in that generation felt that it was better to be Jewish and separate than to blend in with American culture. They saw some aspects of America as nareshkeit, nonsense. And fishing was included as a silly activity that non-Jews did.

As a fourth generation American Jew who grew up in St. Louis, I feel comfortable being both Jewish and American. And I have no problem going to services at Temple on Friday night and spending a Sunday morning fishing on the river. Just as it is possible to be Jewish and American, I believe one can be a Fly Fishing Jew.

There is nothing in the Torah or the Talmud against fishing as far as I am aware. God created fish on the 5th day and God blesses them by saying: "Be fertile and increase, fill the waters of the seas." One of my favorite stories from the Bible is the book of Jonah, where the prophet is swallowed by a whale and lives in its belly for three days. A careful reading of the Hebrew reveals that the word for "whale" is dag, which means fish. So Jonah actually encountered a giant fish! And finally, the Torah tells us that as humans we are allowed to eat fish. In the book of Leviticus, it says that Jews can consume fish that have scales but should stay away from shellfish. And of course, the fish will not magically appear on our plates. We must fish for them.

And now to your questions. I certainly have no problem with a fly-fishing Bar Mitzvah theme. Perhaps it could include an option to donate to a stream conservation organization like Trout Unlimited or the Nature Conservancy. A part of being a good fisherman is caring for the streams. And personally, I think it might be cute to put a graphic of a fly fisherman and a Jewish star together. Why not?

However, there is a concept in Judaism called "shalom bayit," peace in the house, which may apply here. If including too much fishing in the bar mitzvah is offensive to members of your family, I might suggest keeping it a bit more low key. The significance of this day for your son is not about a big party or fly fishing. It is being able to read from the Torah and become a Jewish adult in the the presence of you, your family and your friends.

Mazal Tov on your happy occasion,

The Fly Fishing Rabbi

Rabbi Eric Eisenkramer