When Lujayn Hawari decided to become a vegan, she knew her parents would not take it well.
The 27-year-old Palestinian journalist grew up in Brisbane in a “moderately conservative Muslim household”.
That meant praying five times a day, observing Islamic holidays and traditions, and eating what her mother cooked — including meat.
So when Lujayn made the decision to stop eating animal products in 2016, her parents were unimpressed.
“It was an argument [at] breakfast, lunch and dinner,” she says.
“We would have arguments all day, every day.”
But a much bigger crisis, happening outside her home, was motivating Lujayn’s decision.
And it sparked the beginning of a long journey to disentangle her religion from her diet.
Carrying a burden
At 20, Lujayn had just finished her university degree and was looking to her future. But she was confronted with news reports of catastrophic climate change.
“As millennials, we carry the burden of a deteriorating world,” she says.
It was impacting her mental health.
“I was going through a very dark time and I needed a purpose, something that would give me a reason to wake up in the morning, to feel like I had an impact.”
At the same time, Lujayn was finding it increasingly hard to balance her identities as a Muslim and an Australian.
The more she tried to “pave [her] own path”, the more her parents resisted and the more alienated she felt.
“Growing up within a Western lifestyle, [at a certain point] you start to question your own culture, your own background and your own religion,” she says.
“You start to ask many questions … and you want answers.”
Part of Lujayn’s questioning involved looking at traditions within her religion and her home. She started to think critically about things she’d previously taken for granted, like the role of meat in her diet.
She began researching the impacts of meat and dairy production on the environment. And what she learnt hit her hard.
She discovered that cows and other livestock release methane, the potent greenhouse gas, and that scientists and environmentalists had long been calling for a reduction in methane emissions in animal agriculture to combat climate change.
“It was an overnight decision. I cut out dairy the next day,” she says.
That was followed by the removal of all animal products from her diet.
Lujayn’s father was deeply unhappy with her choice and felt she was going against Islam by choosing not to eat what he considered to be the bounty God had provided.
“[He said], ‘You’re going to go to hell, God will never be happy with you, and you’ll never find success in life’,” she recalls.
But she stood her ground and even embarked on an Honours thesis on veganism in Islamic religions.
“I wanted a comprehensive research article that I could present to my dad and tell him, ‘See, there’s nothing wrong with being vegan as a Muslim,'” she says.
As she delved deeper, Lujayn discovered a community of young people who felt the same way, and were similarly torn between their religious identity and environmentalism.
“A lot of people would message me and tell me, ‘We totally agree with you, but it’s so hard to be able to adopt that lifestyle in our families and our culture.'”
So what are the rules, exactly?
Some religions, like Buddhism, Jainism and Hinduism, are explicit about promoting plant-based diets.
But for Australia’s most common religions, how, why and when we eat meat is nuanced and complex.
Various religious communities interpret the rules differently, and there’s debate within religious groups too.
Bekim Hasani is an expert in Halal certification and Imam of Melbourne’s Albanian Muslim community.
“In Islam, we know that everything around us is created to benefit us as human beings, and therefore, it is important to use those animals,” he tells ABC RN’s God Forbid.
“We eat certain meats and certain animals, and we are prohibited to eat others.”
Based on the teaching of the Qu’ran, pork, alcohol and shellfish are considered “haram” or non-permissible.
Meats that are permitted must be slaughtered in a specific way and “in the name of God”, using a very sharp knife to kill the animal quickly and with the least pain possible, while allowing the blood to drain from its carcase.
But Dr Hasani says the Qu’ran also urges moderation when it comes to meat consumption and considers all plant-based foods “halal by default”. The holy scripture also doesn’t explicitly condemn those abstaining from meat.
The Prophet Muhammad is believed to not have eaten much meat in his lifetime, reserving it for special occasions.
Jewish traditions around meat eating are prescriptive in a similar way to those of Islam.
The Jewish holy texts define specific animals that are permitted to be eaten, which parts are to be avoided, and ways in which to farm and slaughter, says Yankel Wajsbort, general manager at kosher certification agency Kosher Australia.
Forbidden foods typically include pork, shellfish, birds of prey, reptiles, rodents and most insects. That also extends to products derived from forbidden animals, including rennet, an enzyme used to harden cheese, and gelatin, a protein made from animal collagen.
But these holy rules are not without debate.
“There was a new type of chicken discovered in Europe about five years ago, and there’s been massive discussions about whether it’s actually a kosher chicken,” Wajsbort says.
“Then there are the different types of ducks: wild ducks aren’t kosher but some domesticated ducks are.”
While plant-based products aren’t automatically deemed kosher, Wajsbort says they could be helpful to kosher consumers.
“We don’t mix dairy and meat together, so for example, if you’re going to have a kosher cheeseburger, you have two options: either the cheese is not really cheese, or the meat is not really meat.”
A plant-based product filling the gap could be more accessible and affordable for Jewish consumers than specialty kosher products, he says.
Joel Hodge, head of the Australian Catholic University’s School of Theology, argues that Christian traditions tend to have a less rigid view of diet.
“[It’s] about a relationship with God through Jesus … so in that sense, Christianity is a flexible religion, in terms of deciding on ethical principles, because it relies on reflection, discernment and living out Jesus’ way of life.”
According to Biblical teachings, humans and animals are given the gift of life by God — but there are differing opinions on exactly how that relates to eating animal products.
“[Someone] can say, ‘I don’t want to engage in eating meat [because] the vision of God is one of love, of non-violence, of not harming and of actually celebrating life,'” Dr Hodge says.
“But a lot of Christians don’t subscribe to that, because they see that animals can be recognised as a gift … and sustenance for human beings.”
A personal ethical journey
Thea Ormerod, president of the Australian Religious Response to Climate Change (ARRCC), believes religious communities may be uniquely placed to fight climate change through their diet.
She says people of faith “could and should” respond to the environmental importance of reducing meat consumption because “caring for the earth is something common to all the different faith traditions”.
Another common message across religions is that “an individual’s behaviour does count”.
That thinking is behind the ARRCC’s Eat Less Meat campaign, which has been running for the past 15 years.
The campaign focuses on small, incremental diet changes, like encouraging people to have at least one meat-free day a week.
“[For people of faith], our personal, ethical journey counts because we count. We are important,” she says.
“My personal little contribution to reducing emissions in the atmosphere may be relatively small, but it’s still important, and it goes to the kind of person I am.”
She says climate science is compatible and even complementary to religious ideology and scripture.
“There isn’t really a conflict, it’s like two different kinds of truth,” she says
“[There’s] religious truth that talks about the importance of love and compassion, then there’s scientific truth, that [says]: ‘If you eat this much meat, it causes this much methane in the atmosphere, which then contributes to global warming.'”
It’s a message that rings true for Lujayn, whose parents have now come around to accepting her veganism.
“I think we need to shift our cultural ideas and interpretations and ideologies to what’s happening in today’s world, and look at science and statistics and be able to adapt our religion to that,” she says.
“You always hear from Muslims that science and religion are one; the Qu’ran has so many verses that indicate a love for science and research.
“So why aren’t we adapting that to the environment and our diets?”
She wants to share with other young people of faith that a plant-based diet isn’t counter to religion: it’s an expression of it.
“I think to be religious is to care about what God created,” she says.
“If you’re not caring for that, then where do your beliefs lie?”
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