It's a well-known fact that Jews don't eat pork. Why not?

You might hear people say that since refrigerator companies hadn't gotten off the ground in the land of Canaan some three thousand years ago, the Torah forbade eating pork for health reasons. The corollary of that statement is that since we now have wonderful refrigerators, we can now all eat pork.

Alternatively, you might hear some people express their revulsion at our little porcine friends thus: "The pig is a disgusting animal. It grovels around in the dirt. Its diet is from the most disgusting things that lay on the ground. Even if pig was kosher, I'd never eat it."

The Torah's view is neither of the above. Our Sages says quite clearly that "A person shouldn't say: 'I don't want to eat pig meat or wear shatnez (a forbidden mixture of wool and linen).' Rather he should say: 'I do want to do these things, but what can I do -- my Father in Heaven ordered me not to do them.'"

It is for this reason that the meal we eat on Shabbat afternoon is called shalosh seudot, which translates as "three meals." More accurately, it should be called seuda shlishit -- "the third meal." So why is this meal called "three meals?" (The answer is not because you're supposed to eat enough for three meals.)

When a person sits down to eat the first meal of Shabbat on Friday night, he has an appetite built up from the day. Similarly, the second meal of Shabbat on Saturday morning comes at a time when most of us are ready to sit down and enjoy a meal. However, when just a couple of hours after this meal, we are obliged to sit down and eat yet another meal, it becomes clear retroactively that the other two meals were not for the sake of our own stomachs but to honor Shabbat with our eating and drinking. Eating on Shabbat and abstaining from eating pig are both for the same reason -- to fulfill the Will of the Creator of the Universe.

Dear Rafi,

Many major corporations have investments in restaurants, hotels and food businesses that use mixtures of meat and milk. And as you said, the Torah forbids deriving benefit from meat cooked with milk.

However, many authorities of Jewish law maintain that since you have no rights of ownership in the actual products but rather only dividends from the company's investments, it is permitted to own such stocks.

Rabbi S. Z. Braun addresses a similar question about owning stocks during Passover in a company that makes chametz. He writes that "since the stockholder has no right to do anything at the plant on his own accord, and certainly he has no right to destroy the chametz, he is not in violation of owning chametz." The same would apply to your question, and therefore you can own McDonalds stock.

Disclaimer: Under no circumstances does the above information represent a recommendation to buy or sell stocks.

And speaking of stocks:

An American financier was vacationing at the pier of a small coastal village when a small boat with a native fisherman pulled up alongside the dock. Inside were several large fish. The American asked the fisherman how long it took to catch them. "Only a little while," he replied. The American then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The fisherman replied, "I have enough to support my family for today."

"What do you do the rest of the day?" asked the American.

"I sleep late, play with my children, take a siesta and stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar."

The American said helpfully, "I am have an MBA from Harvard, maybe I could help you. If you spend more time fishing, with the proceeds you could buy a bigger boat on which you could catch even more fish. Then, you could buy several boats and eventually have a fleet. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You could leave this small coastal fishing village and move to the big city to run your expanding enterprise."

"How long will all this take?" asked the fisherman.

"About 15 years."

"Then what?"

"Then," smiled the American, "you would announce an IPO and sell stock in your company to the public! You'd make millions!"

"Then what?" asked the fisherman.

"Then," said the American, "you retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta and stroll to the village in the evenings to sip wine and play your guitar."