We call it Kaparos. We twist a chicken over our heads while intoning an incantation and for that we hope to merit atonement.

Well, not quite. We still have to do teshuva. Kaparos—holding a bird over our heads as if to say “this is me” and then sending it off to shechita—is supposed to shock us into doing teshuva. That is its’ purpose. The raw emotions generated by the event are meant to wake us up, help us realize the negative consequences of our actions, and motivate us to improve. Yes, there are opinions that kaparos can divert the severity of a harsh decree due to befall a person by metaphysically channeling it onto the chicken, thereby granting the person relief from an intended punishment. But teshuva is required in that case, as well. Either way the key is teshuva. The chicken is just a prop.

If the key is really teshuva and the chicken is just a prop, then why don’t we just do teshuva and leave the poor chicken out of it? The Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim and the Sefer Hachinuch take the approach that all mitzvos—aside from being divine commandments that must be followed properly just because they are the Word of Hashem—are designed to teach us to control our thoughts and feelings. Every time we engage in a mitzvah we move psychologically closer to where Hashem wants us to be. As the Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 16) writes, “Through action and simulation we implant [feelings] into our hearts and mind[s].” In this way, kaparos is similar to the many mitzvos and minhagim that employ an action to convey an idea or feeling. Watching the chicken come to the end of its life is supposed to make us ask, “How do we want the end of our lives to look?”

The Gemara (Shabbos 153a) says, “[All your life] do things that can be said [in the eulogy] in front of your bier.” To live a proper life one must think about death once in a while, and reflect on what might be said at one’s own funeral. Kaparos presents us with this opportunity. After connecting the bird to ourselves by holding it over our heads we watch it die. We think, “One day we too will die—and what will people say about us then?” This thought should prompt us to live better, and hopefully longer, lives.
Ok, so twisting the chicken and killing it serves a purpose for me, but what about the chicken? Why must he undergo the rough treatment? Besides, what about tzar balei chaim—the prohibition against harming animals needlessly?

Let’s start with a basic overview of tzar balei chaim. There is in fact no mitzvah in the Torah called tzar balei chaim. In no place does the Torah explicitly state that you must be kind to animals and avoid mistreating them. There are, however, many mitzvos in the Torah that teach us to treat animals benevolently. We must feed our animals before we may eat. We may not aggravate our non-cud-chewing animals by harnessing them together with the cud-chewing variety. When an animal is working with food (threshing), we may not prevent it from eating. If a donkey is struggling because its load was not packed right, we must assist with the repositioning. If we come upon a birds nest, we may not take the nestlings in the mother’s presence.

Notice that the Torah does not prohibit using the animal for hard labor. Even causing an animal discomfort in order to serve our own needs is generally permissible. We are allowed to work the animals until they sweat. We can go as far as pulling feathers from a live bird, since when it feels cold it will produce more shmaltz (Even Haezer §5:14). The Torah simply requires that we treat animals with a degree of mentshlechkiet when we use them. If they need to eat, we must feed them. If they are struggling we must assist them. Chazal understood that the Torah wants us to be sensitive to their needs. They named this concept of needless harm to animals—tzar balei chaim.

There are obvious complexities in being permitted to use animals for our own purposes—even when it causes them discomfort—while at the same time being enjoined to be sensitive. Tzar baalei chaim is an enigmatic rule, and familiarity with the sources is essential before it can be applied. Although the term is often thrown around by the uneducated, the applications of tzar baalei chaim are not always clearly evident. We can whip a horse to make it transport us faster, but we can’t yoke it to an ox? We can kill an animal for its skin or meat, but we can’t grab a quick snack before giving it breakfast? These questions alone point to the fact that the halachos are not necessarily intuitive; they are case-specific and require study. Only someone tuned into Chazal’s mentality, after learning the issues in depth, is qualified to decide what is or is not tzar baalei chaim in a given situation.

But one thing we know: If Chazal, the Rishonim and Acharonim, who are our sources for what is permissible and what is forbidden, allowed and even encouraged the use of chickens for kaparos, then it must not be considered tzar baalei chayim (at least when it is performed properly). If the bearers and interpreters of the same Torah that conceived of the notion of animal welfare long before any animal activists were waving signs can sanction the use of birds for the ritual and do not consider it animal abuse, then the minhag must conform with, or exceed, all reasonable standards of animal welfare. It is needless to say that one cannot improve upon the rules of the Torah.

For those who still feel sorry for the chicken, the following is important to bear in mind. The goal of every creature is to fulfill the purpose of creation, to serve its Creator. In the case of kaparos, the chicken’s death serves both a spiritual and physical benefit: to provide inspiration for teshuva as well as food for the needy. The shechita, which would have been justified for the sake of an ordinary meal, is that much more meaningful when it comes to a kapara chicken. Kaparos allows the chicken to die not as a McNugget, but as an instrument for many mitzvos. Not only does it encourage people to do teshuva (and receive kapara) and give tzedaka, but in the process, it also facilitates the many mitzvos involved in shechita, kesuy hadam and kashrus, as well as the brachos that will be made before and after it is eaten. It may be served as part of a seudas mitzvah, and the energy it provides may assist someone in performing other mitzvos. When held in comparison to the other ways the chicken could have met its fate, this is a happy ending.

“But, if the whole point is just to give alms to the poor, why can’t I just give them a dollar?”

True, part of kaparos is to gain merit by benefiting the destitute, and giving a dollar accomplishes that. But it is not the maximum that you can do for the poor. While the dollar has the power to resolve some of the indigent’s needs, he is still far from a solution to his problems. He must still go out and buy what he lacks. Giving him the food or other items that he needs is a far greater mitzvah, because you eliminated one of the steps for him.

The Gemara (Kesubos 67b) tells a story. Mar Ukva would regularly leave a coin by the home of a neighborhood indigent. One night, the poor man decided to discover the identity of his benefactor. On the night that the poor man lay in wait for him, Mar Ukva was delayed in the Beis Hamedrash and his wife came to accompany him home. Along the way home they went together to drop the coin by the indigent’s house. As they approached, Mar Ukva noticed the door move. Together with his wife he ran and hid in an oven that had been cleared from its coals but was still quite hot. His feet started to burn, but his wife’s did not. Mar Ukva was dismayed to discover that he was not as deserving of a miracle as his wife. She consoled him by pointing out that his merit for charity was limited because he was only able to supply the poor with money, while she, who stayed home and cooked, was able to supply the beggars with their real need—food. Thus, the merit of her charity was greater.

Your dollar, as beneficial as it is for the poor, is still a step removed from feeding them. Kaparos chickens provide immediate relief in the form of a meal.

The benefits of using a chicken for kaparos are thus threefold. The chicken certainly prefers a compassionate death at the hands of a shochet and an eventual spot on the poor man’s table. The indigent appreciates the kindness bestowed upon him. And for us, the chicken serves as a candid reminder of our ultimate end. Observing the shechita forces us to focus on a question we might otherwise avoid, “What will be said about us at the end of our lives?”

In the merit of our teshuva and optimal tzedakah may we all be zoche to a complete kapara and an unhindered year of good.

About the Author: Avrohom Reit lives in Brooklyn and is the author of the Tekufas Hashana series – halachic works aimed at demystifying everyday mitzvos. Books in the series include: Teka Beshofar – Mastering Shofar Blowing (Feldheim), Zeh Kaporosi – The Custom of Kaparos (Mosaica Press), Lekicha Tama – A Lulav and Esrog Buying Guide (Feldheim) and Chalutz Hana’al – A Concise Overview of the Mitzvah of Chalitza (Feldheim/author).

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