Rabbi Abadi,
I was reading that historically, observant Jews would eat permitted food at non-Jewish inns and establishments, as discussed by the Taz (YD 91:2), Maharshal, and Rema.
My question is: If this was an accepted practice among observant Jews in earlier generations, why do many rabbis today prohibit eating even completely kosher food at a non-kosher restaurant?
Has something actually changed in Halacha, or are these restrictions based on later stringencies? More generally, if earlier generations permitted something, on what basis can later authorities prohibit it?
You’re correct that observant Jews historically ate permitted foods in non-Jewish establishments. The Taz (YD 91:2), quoting the Maharshal and Rema, discusses Jews eating food at non-Jewish inns and using their dishes. The discussion is about the actual halachic concerns involving the food and utensils, not about a requirement that the establishment have a rabbinical certification.
So what changed?
The biggest change was not in halachah. It was the development of the modern kashrut industry.
Historically, kashrut was largely community-oriented. You knew your local shochet, your butcher, your baker, and your rabbi. You learned the laws of kashrut, just as you learned the laws of Shabbat, and you applied them. When buying food from non-Jews, you needed to know what was permitted and what was prohibited. There wasn’t an assumption that everything required a rabbinical symbol.
I’m old enough to remember how this changed.
When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, rabbis in different communities would contact companies like Hershey’s and Nestlé, investigate ingredients, and compile lists of acceptable products. There were lists coming out of Detroit and Chicago. When I was in yeshiva, Rabbi Fine did that research for us.
The OU already existed and was expanding, but many people were hesitant to rely on it at the time. One concern was that local rabbis were often used to supervise factories, and people weren’t necessarily comfortable relying on every rabbi involved.
Eventually, these organizations became larger and larger. Kashrut certification developed into an enormous industry.
And here’s where I have a very serious problem.
Instead of teaching people what requires supervision and what doesn’t, parts of the kashrut industry began teaching people that practically everything needs a hashgacha. These people call themselves “Rabbis,” but they are not serving the communities.
I remember claims being circulated that manufacturers didn’t have to disclose ingredients comprising less than 2% of a product. That’s simply not true under American labeling laws.
Why tell people something that isn’t true? The effect is to convince them that they cannot determine whether anything is kosher without relying on a certification agency.
We now have hashgachas on bottled water, paper plates, and all kinds of ordinary products. Does water really require a hashgacha? Do paper plates? Does every can of tuna? Does every fruit, vegetable, or fish require a rabbinical certification?
A rabbi’s job should be to teach the public which products need supervision, which don’t, and how to distinguish them.
Instead, the message increasingly became that you cannot eat anything without a hashgacha. In my opinion, a great deal of this is driven by the business interests of the certification industry rather than by halachah.
Let me give you an example from my own family.
My father told me that Rabbi Aharon Kotler used to buy his challahs from Gelbstein’s Bakery in Lakewood, which did not have a hashgacha in those days. The bread was permitted under the laws of pas palter.
Rabbi Aharon Kotler, the Rosh Yeshiva, would sit at the head of the table with those challahs, while other people in the yeshiva would bring challahs from Grunbaum’s Bakery in Washington Heights because that bakery had a hashgacha.
Think about that. Rabbi Aharon Kotler, one of the greatest Torah scholars of his generation, understood that the bread was permitted. Yet people sitting at his own table preferred a certification over his halachic judgment.
I remember something else that has stayed with me my entire life.
My father, Rabbi Yitzchak Abadi, was a Posek in Lakewood for many years. People constantly came to him with questions about Niddah, Shabbat, kashrut, and every other area of halachah.
One day, I overheard someone say to another person:
“What does Rav Yitzchak know about kashrus? He’s a Posek!”
That statement captures the entire problem.
Apparently, being a Posek wasn’t enough anymore. Kashrut had become a separate profession, as though the certification agencies had created an entirely new section of the Shulchan Aruch, with their own rules, separate from the actual halachah.
And somehow, a person working for a hashgacha could be treated as a greater authority on kashrut than a genuine Posek who had spent his life studying the Gemara, Rishonim, and Shulchan Aruch.
I’ve seen people whose Torah knowledge doesn’t approach that of established Poskim treated as the ultimate authorities on kashrut simply because they belong to a certification agency.
That is completely backward.
A hashgacha is not a substitute for Torah knowledge. A certificate from a supervising organization doesn’t make someone a greater halachic authority than a learned Posek.
The industry has also developed something resembling a closed establishment. Rabbis who disagree with the accepted certification policies can be attacked or dismissed, regardless of their scholarship. Rabbi Ralbag is an example of a serious Torah scholar whose halachic judgments deserve to be evaluated on their merits, not according to whether they conform to an industry’s preferred standards.
At times, the pressure to conform makes the entire system seem more like a mafia than an institution devoted to teaching halachah.
Now, your question was whether later rabbis can prohibit something that earlier generations permitted.
A rabbi doesn’t have the authority to invent new prohibitions simply because he prefers a stricter standard.
Certainly, circumstances can change. Food manufacturing has become more complicated, and there are situations where reliable supervision is genuinely important. I have no objection to proper hashgacha where it is needed.
But a stringency is not automatically halachah. A policy adopted by a certification agency does not become an issur merely because that agency insists upon it.
When eating at a non-kosher restaurant, the relevant questions concern the actual food, its preparation, its ingredients, the utensils, and whatever specific halachot apply. Those questions have to be evaluated according to the Shulchan Aruch and the Poskim. The fact that a restaurant doesn’t have a hashgacha does not, by itself, establish that every food served there is prohibited.
And this brings me to a question you didn’t ask.
Can we trust the modern kashrut-certification organizations themselves?
If an organization gives people misleading information about what requires supervision, particularly when convincing people to purchase its services benefits it financially, that raises a very serious question about its credibility.
If someone is willing to misrepresent halachah or factual information to convince people that they need his certification, why should we automatically trust him when certification genuinely matters?
I don’t have one simple answer to that question. Different organizations and individuals must be judged on their actual knowledge, honesty, and practices.
But I believe it’s a question we should be asking.
Kashrut belongs to the Torah, not to the kashrut industry. The responsibility of a rabbi is to teach the halachah honestly, whether the answer is stringent or lenient, whether it benefits a business or not.
We need to return to learning the laws of kashrut rather than simply memorizing which certification symbols we’re told to trust.
If a person wants to know more about the laws of kashrut, a good place to start is in our Laws of Taaruvot https://kashrut.org/project/taaruvot-how-halacha-evaluates-non-kosher-ingredients/