Meet Leah, the "Hated" Wife

Parshat Vayetze 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In Parshat Ki Tetze we are told a tale about a man who has two wives, one who is beloved (“Ahuva”) and one who is detested (“S’nuah”) (Devarim 21:15). Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the term used there is the exact term used by God (29:31) and Leah (29:33) in describing her own situation with respect to her husband.

In Ki Tetze, Rabbi Hirsch quotes the Talmud (Yevamot) to suggest that the word “S’nuah” is the Torah’s way of expressing disapproval of a marriage. He then mentions the Sifre where the word describes one who is “discriminated against undeservedly.” Through his analysis of the difference between the word “S’nuah” and “S’niah” Hirsch raises a third possibility that the term implies a wife who is “less loved.”

In our parsha, Hirsch calls Leah “the hated… i.e. less beloved” wife, as he notes that

“God chose precisely the one who felt slighted and disadvantaged, and made her the principal ancestress of His people. For the names that this less-loved wife gave to her sons show us that, precisely in her feeling of disadvantage, she was saturated with love for her husband; the names show us that she uplifted herself to fully appreciate the role of motherhood in the destiny of woman and the happiness of marriage, and that for both she cast her burden on God, Who sees and hears all and causes His Presence to dwell between man and woman. Her husband’s love was her goal, and with every child born to her, she hoped to add another layer to the foundation of this love. In the end, her hopes were fulfilled. What was denied to the bride and wife was granted to the mother of children.” 

When faced with trying to understand the relationship that Yaakov had with Leah, if we want to be myopic, we can pretend to understand Yaakov on a level each of us might feel in such a situation.

To bring a few possibilities:

• He liked Leah as a cousin, but never wanted to marry her. 
• He had been tricked into marrying her, and hated her because he was victim of a rouse. 
• He had been tricked into marrying her, and he hated her because of her role in not owning up to her true identity, 
• She was a detestable woman, so he hated her. 

Some of these don’t really make sense. Because if Yaakov really hated her, it stands to reason he would have divorced her. After all, his marriage to her was made under false pretenses.

So what does it mean that “she was hated?”

Hirsch’s insights are very good. A lot of it could have been in her mind, comparing herself to her sister (Rachel married Yaakov a week after Leah). God’s perspective could also simply be a reflection of Leah’s feelings. It’s not farfetched to say that she was “less loved,” as the Torah doesn’t mince words in describing Yaakov’s love for Rachel (29:18,20,30)

At the same time, Yaakov also gets angry at Rachel (30:2), in a manner we never see him treating Leah – even when Leah seems to be very forward after trading her “dudaim” (flowers – mandrakes?) to Rachel in exchange for the evening with Yaakov.

So was it real hatred that was going on here?

Reb Bunem of Pshischa had a different perspective in explaining Leah’s being “hated.” He suggests it is impossible that Yaakov hated her. Rather, she was hated by herself, the same way that a true righteous person is very hard on his or herself. She saw her own flaws, knew her inadequacies, may have had leftover feelings of sadness from the thought that at any time Yaakov might divorce her, leaving her open to being picked up by Eisav.

As on target as Reb Bunem might be in protecting Yaakov from being a hater, the idea that Leah feels so inadequate is nonetheless sad to consider (even though I think it is a great explanation). We all know and see people who live lives of (personally inflicted) inadequacy. Some feel they can never date or marry due to some flaw they see in themselves. Some feel they can never get the kind of job they want or do the things they want to do because they won’t do it perfectly, or even well, or because they are “no good at anything.”

A wise woman I know likes to say, “There will be plenty of people who will put you down in your lifetime. Don’t ever be a person who puts yourself down.”

Leah carries the title of one of the “Imahot” (mothers) of the Jewish people because of her many good qualities. It is sad that this stain of being “S’nuah” is on her resume, even if it helped her become a great mother, and cemented her place as the wife buried next to her shared husband.

And then, maybe she became so great because of or in spite of her hated status. And that’s a thought worth mulling over.

Amram and Yocheved - A Forbidden Relationship?

Parshat Va'era

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Shmot Chapter 6 contains within it a family tree that seems to quickly plow through the families of Reuven and Shimon to get to the great detail which describes the family of Levi. It is important to know, for example, that Moshe is a human being, born of human parents, and to see his “yichus” (genealogy) in the context of seeing how he descended from Yaakov. 

But there is one verse which stands out because it is a little odd.

 "And Amram took Yocheved, his aunt, to be his wife." (6:20)

 Considering a later verse in the Torah that Moshe would eventually teach to the Jewish people, how could Moshe record this little fact (which was also mentioned – though not as clearly – in 2:1) in the same Torah in which he’d declare “Do not commit incest with your father's sister, since she is your father's blood relative.” (Vayikra 18:12)? 

Strength of Clasps - Even When They Are Hardly Seen

Parshat Terumah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

We typically imagine that the “Mishkan” is defined by the beams that stood together to become its walls. After all, without walls, there is no building.

While a simple view of the Torah’s depiction of the Mishkan certainly refers to the overall structure – walls, contents, etc – as “The Mishkan” many times, there are times when the Mishkan itself is specifically described as being either the tapestries that covered the building or the result of the linking of the blue loops and the golden clasps. In 26:1 “make the Mishkan out of ten tapestries.” Several verses later - “And you’ll make fifty golden clasps, and you will combine the tapestries – one side to the other, at the clasps, and then the Mishkan will be one.” (26:6)

 A building has walls and partitions and rooms, without which calls its value into question. But does the roof really hold so much sway that it can be “the” definition of the Mishkan – especially in a wilderness which is protected from the elements by the Pillars of Cloud and Fire?

 These instructions are incredible because they essentially tell us that it is not walls which make a building, but tapestries which unite a Mishkan. For the Mishkan to be considered complete, 50 barely visible clasps need to hold together two large pieces of cloth. Why could they not just sew everything together – after all, each tapestry was made of five pieces that were sewn together?

Perhaps the clasps are very symbolic. It can’t just be invisible thread which unites the two sides of the Mishkan. There needs to be something of value – even if it is small and hardly visible – which unites the two sides, creating a whole.

If we think about it, it is amazing what the unity of fifty clasps can accomplish. Their union defines a structure that is so much bigger than the sum of its parts.

 Which leads us to wonder, as we read this highly symbolic parsha, what elements of our lives share this quality.

 For some people it is a profound respect they have for one another, as learning partners, as business partners, as teammates.

 For others it might be their marriage commitment, or their dedication to family members even through all kinds of adversity.

While the people are represented by the tapestries, what parallels the clasps, and what parallels the oneness? The clasps are valuable because they are made of gold, but once the Mishkan is put together, due to the height of the walls of the Mishkan structure, the clasps are not very noticeable. They are also not meant to fall apart unless they are actively taken apart by human hands.

This becomes the challenge we all face in using the Mishkan as a model for us. The relationships we build and aim to maintain in our lives are precious. What unites us with others is far more precious than anything money can buy. Trust, honesty, love, family, commitment, belief in an idea… these are things we cannot assign value to, nor can we always see them. But we know they are there. And we know that while they sometimes seem so easily put together, human hands can just as easily pull them apart.

If we are to create oneness and unity with our loved ones and cherished friends, we must always bear in mind how priceless these relationships are. Some people are blessed that a clasp can hold them together through thick and thin, because the clasp doesn’t let go. Others need to always make sure that the clasp is still there keeping everything together. And the double check might come with a need to remeasure, readjust, retighten, to make sure all is in order. More maintenance may be required at constant intervals.

But hopefully the goal of the Mishkan can be our goal as well: that the combination of the tapestries through the unifying force of the clasps can create an entity that defines itself as a united whole forever. Amen.

He Laughs, She Laughs

Parshat Vayera

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Avraham and Sarah are both given the same information.

                

A child will be born when you are 100 and 90, respectively.

                

He laughs in 17:17 and is told, “It’s true! It is really going to happen.”

                

In 18:12, when Sarah is given her version of the message, she too laughs, but is criticized. God asks, “Why is this that Sarah is laughing…?” (18:13-14)

                

If they both have the same response, why are the reactions to their responses so different? Avraham’s seems to be supported by God, while Sarah’s response is rejected, requiring her to even defend her natural reaction.

                

To strengthen the question, we can further wonder why Avraham seems to bear the brunt of the critique against Sarah? Rashi teaches us (21:12) that Sarah was greater in prophesy than Avraham. Why then did God’s criticism of her reaction come through Avraham’s prophesy and not hers, namely to her directly?

                

Rabbi Yehuda ben Eliezer, the 14^th century Riva, writes that there’s a simple explanation for the difference between Avraham and Sarah's laughter reactions and the news of having a baby in the near future. Quoting Rav Elyakim, he notes that Avraham received the information directly from God, and his laughter was therefore of the joyous type – completely accepting God’s promise, while overcome with emotions that uncontrollably cause laughter.

                

Sarah, on the other hand, heard the promise indirectly, through an angel that dressed up as a wanderer, which caused her to be skeptical.

                

The Or HaChaim takes a different viewpoint, noting that Avraham laughed when he heard the news, while Sarah laughed not on the hearing of the news, but only after her body began to show signs that birthing was to be a real possibility. In other words, for Avraham, the message was convincing enough. For Sarah, the message was not convincing enough – it didn’t cause her to believe anything – only body changes could convince her that something was going to happen.

                

Perhaps this is a knock on Sarah’s faith. But in all honesty, I still find it unconvincing, in light of the comments of the Riva with which we opened. It is not God who is speaking to her. It is a stranger that her husband randomly stopped from his journey on the road.

                

Which is why the Chizkuni’s take on the matter is so significant. Chizkuni compares what happens here to a woman who wants to criticize her daughter-in-law, but instead criticizes her own daughter in front of the daughter-in-law, hoping the message will penetrate without the insult.

                

God wanted to criticize Avraham for his laughter, but instead God confronted Avraham (God did not confront Sarah!)  about Sarah’s laughter, hoping Avraham would understand that his own laughter was inappropriate.

                

The fact that Sarah felt the need to defend herself may indicate that Avraham indeed confronted her about her laughter – which means he either “got” the message or he did not. If he did not “get it,” then his critique is ever so much more disturbing – how can you ask your wife about her laughter when you did the same thing?

                

But I think there’s a more profound message that we can take from this story.

                

If the chronology of these parshas is such that Avraham had his bris in chapter 17, and chapter 18 is his healing period which followed that surgery, then he was certainly aware of the promise of a child by the time the men/angels came to his door.

                

Why wasn’t Sarah? Her name is so prominently featured in the context of Avraham having this child (see 17:16,19,21) one would think Avraham would have told her of the joy which would come to their lives, of the promise that would clearly come true, as he had been told this directly by God! Especially since she will play such a significant role in its coming about.

                

And yet he did not. She hadn’t a clue. She was completely unaware of any promise. Perhaps this is why when she overheard through the tent, and her husband didn’t react, she also laughed, perhaps thinking that Avraham is really in bad shape because he doesn’t see the humor in this traveling man’s strange “promise.” Avraham, on the other hand, did not react because he already knew.

                

It seems this translates to a communication problem. We can view Sarah’s response however we want, but the bottom line is that the messenger was so unconvincing, that she gets a pass on not accepting the promise as being true. Avraham, on the other hand, is criticized for her laughter, a side-swipe at himself for his own laughter, and also at him for not informing his wife of this important change that will soon take place in their lives.

                

Spouses have to share the most important things that develop in their lives. Avraham didn’t and bore double responsibility – for his laughter, and for not communicating with his wife. 

"Now I Know"...? Where Have You Been?

Parshat Lekh Lekha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Rabbi Menachem Recanati, the 13th century Italian commentator, quotes the Zohar in making what is seemingly a bizarre claim: that until Avraham was circumcised, he was never intimate with Sarah. (17:1) This theory is premised in the idea that the foreskin is a barrier to an element of spiritual fulfillment that is “impossible” for the uncircumcised male to achieve. Sarah’s awareness of this reality, long before her husband was given any commandment, caused her to see her marriage as a spiritual one and to never seek a physical connection with her husband.

 This would explain very simply why Sarah was so insistent that Avraham take an Egyptian woman in order to father a child (at least ten years into their marriage and 14 years before his circumcision) and why Avraham and Sarah are married for at least 25 years without children.

Their relationship also teaches us important lessons about what true knowledge is.

 Earlier in the parsha, Avraham makes a strange declaration. As he and Sarah (Avram and Sarai at the time) are heading to Egypt to find food during a famine, he declares, “Now I know (Hinei Na Yadati) that you are a beautiful woman.” (12:11)

 Avraham has been married to Sarah for some time and only now he realizes she is beautiful? How could this be? Radak gives a simple answer, that “Hinei Na” is simply how people spoke. It’s not like this was a revelation that had been undetected before. And Chizkuni says the verse should be read like this: “I know that since you are a beautiful woman, when the Egyptians see you they'll….”

 Aside from that, each of the many explanations given has its own lesson attached to it. A good challenge is to take the interpretation you like and develop an applied lesson on your own.

 We are going to a nation where your beauty surpasses all they (the locals) have ever seen (Midrash Aggadah); Avraham never looked at her before (perhaps following the Zohar’s approach) (Baba Batra 16a) and first noticed her beauty when they crossed a river on their way to Egypt (Tanchuma); She fell in the river and he helped her wring out the clothes she was still wearing, thereby seeing her leg for the first time (Midrash Aggadah); a person normally becomes weary from the road, yet she was still beautiful (Pesikta); now that they’d traveled to so many places, and Avraham had met many people to compare to his wife, he realizes how amazingly beautiful she truly is and appreciates how special she is (Pesikta); this was the first time he needed to be concerned about her beauty, safetywise, due to where they were going (Rashi); specifically because they were going to a kingdom where beautiful women were abducted by the king, he expressed his innermost feelings (Ramban).

 When the Talmud (BB 16a) says Avraham never looked at his wife, it says “Lo havei Yada Lah,” which means he didn’t know her. We can understand in the literal sense, that perhaps they married hardly knowing one another. This is common practice even today, in communities where couples go on a few dates, they get a good feeling, it seems like it can work, and they spend a lifetime getting to know one another. In a healthy, beautiful way.

 On the other hand, following a certain theme, and knowing that the Biblical term “knowing” sometimes refers to marital intimacy, it could be the Talmud is confirming the words of the Zohar with which we started.

 Particularly if we view the forefathers as human beings (albeit extraordinary ones) it is still very difficult to come to grips with the Zohar and the Talmud. It is hard to imagine a life and a marriage dedicated completely to spiritual endeavors and pursuits, without a physical component.

 Which is why I like to think, rationally perhaps, and following Radak and Chizkuni, that there wasn’t as much depth in what Avraham was saying as we like to read into it.

 However, we must take note that Avraham also uses the word “yodea,” when he says “Honei na yadati” – now I know something which may or may not have been apparent before. The ability to make such a statement comes from a tremendous awareness of self.

 We live in a time when many people “know” everything. Social media, one of the greatest blessings and ills of our time, is a great example of this. News gets out in a flash, and everyone has an opinion, knows all the details, becomes judgmental, figures everything out, knows the flaws of the other guy (because, as each contributor notes to oneself, “I am perfect, hilarious, and always right, while the other guy is a ____”) But while knowledge is power, the display of arrogance that often comes across with all of this, typically indicates a lack of knowledge.

 And so the lessons we can learn from Avraham’s declaration and marriage are many. Let us focus on three of them.

•  A marriage can not only be a physical marriage. Avraham and Sarah had a spiritual marriage, which transcended material challenges. Being on the same page in their relationship with God helped their marriage survive many obstacles. 
•  Marriage contains two kinds of “yedia” – knowing. One is the Biblical knowing of intimacy, in which two people connect and appreciate one another in a personal and private way. The other is the knowing which comes from spending time with one another, and getting to know one another as the unique individual with the unique experience each has in life. To learn from one another, to grow in caring for one another. Whether it was, as Rashi calls it, a “mayseh” (event – probably referring to the water event mentioned above) that helped Avraham see his wife differently than before, or just the simple task of going on a journey alone to Egypt, without their followers, or even Nephew Lot, they just got to talk and know one another better. 
•  Finally, knowledge is not always intuitive. Knowledge which has value sometimes comes after a real thought process, which includes true inspection and true introspection. A gathering of all evidence, an awareness of one’s surroundings, a look at one’s audience, an appreciation of others and their contribution to the world. And a humility that says, I may know something, but I don’t know everything. 

 Avraham was able to say “I now know or am aware of something, that I didn’t know or was not aware of before.” Only the brightest people say this because they are able to admit that “I didn’t know all before, and I’m still learning.”  This acknowledgement is a wonderful example of Abrahamic humility

May the lessons we take serve us well in all of our relationships.

When In An Argument...

In the parsha, the forefather in question is named Avram until his name change at his circumcision. Following the adjudication of Berachot 13a, he is referred to as "Avraham" in this article.

Parshat Lekh Lekha

The King of Egypt discovers the woman he has brought into his chambers is married to a different man, and he makes all kinds of accusations. "What have you done to me? Why didn't you tell me she is your wife? Why did you say she is your sister, leading me to take her as a wife? Now – take your wife and go!" Paraoh then commanded and sent him and his wife out of the land. (12:18-20)

            

Avraham's response to this is silence. Either he is not given a chance to respond, or perhaps more likely, he recognized that responding, whether truthfully or in anger, would go nowhere. Avraham knew that having the last word was not only unnecessary, but were it be the wrong word, it may come back to bite him. After all, he did come to Egypt looking for help. He should be grateful he is going free (with many gifts!) with merely a tongue lashing.

            

The king of Sodom arrogantly tells Avraham, who has just saved him and his people at tremendous peril and self sacrifice, that Avraham should give him the POWs as he gives Avraham permission to keep the booty that is rightfully Avraham's.

Avraham does have the last word as he tells the king that he does not intend to keep anything beyond what his men have already eaten. Sometimes you need to give the swift kick and end the conversation. Especially since the gratitude should have come in the other direction – from King of Sodom towards Avraham. (14:17-24)

            

In both cases, Avraham does not have nor does he intend to pursue a longer term relationship with these kings. Though the reason for each encounter likely contributes to how Avraham chooses to deal with the person in question.

Let us look, however, at the two arguments Avraham has with people for whom he does care deeply.

          
When Avraham's shepherds argue with Lot's shepherds, Avraham is the one who intervenes saying, "Let there not be an argument between me and you, and between my shepherds and your shepherds, for we are brothers."

          
He gives Lot a very generous offer – You pick where you want to be. Stay here or pick a direction. Whatever you choose, I will go the other way. (13:8-9) That Lotchooses to go to Sodom is aseparate factor. But they part in peace and Avraham has achieved his objective.

          
After Sarah gives her maid to Avraham, demonstrating tremendous self-sacrifice and concern for her husband so he could have a son, Hagar denigrates her mistress who has been suffering with infertility for years. "I am angry at you," she says to Avraham, "because I gave you my maid, she has become pregnant, and I have become denigrated." (16:3-5)

          
It is ironic that Avraham is blamed for doing exactly what his wife told him to do. But note how he does not say, "Why are you yelling at me? It's YOUR fault! You asked for this! What do you expect of me? I did what you told me! I'm going to be the father I always wanted to be. I'm going to have a child – something you could never provide for me!"

He does say, "Here is your maid. Do to her what is best in your eyes." (16:6) Radak says Avraham did this for the sake of Shalom Bayis (to preserve peace in their home), so Sarah can feel good about herself again one day.

There is a much longer conversation to be had about how Hagar was treated in this incident. The commentaries are split over the choices made here - Ramban is critical of both Sarah and Avraham on account of her treatment of Hagar, the Riva defends them both. Radak says though we normally learn model behavior from the forefathers, here we learn how not to treat someone from the way Hagar is treated.

The question here is, do Avraham and Sarah respect one another in this exchange? It's not like with the kings where you either ignore the person or tell him off. Even more than he cared for Lot Avraham cared for his wife. And as his demonstration of compromise played out with Lot, it played out even moreso with his wife, with whom he intended to live for the rest of his life.

And it is completely in character for Avraham. Remember how he resolved the dispute with Lot. You choose. You decide. I don't need to have the last word. I don't need to be the one sitting on top, sitting on the gold mine, with the choice land or property. I want YOU to be happy. I want YOU to find peace.

It's hard to judge Sarah. She is a woman who has suffered terribly – with infertility, her maid's mistreating her, and her maid getting pregnant right away while Sarah remains barren.

But Avraham certainly teaches us a few things about the "rules of engagement" in an argument.

Ben Zoma concludes a listing of a few important rhetorical questions (Avot 4:1) by asking, "Who is honored? Who is honorable? One who gives honor to all of God's creatures." Certainly the first place to begin is with one's loved ones. Treat them with respect. Preserve their dignity at all times. Don't argue in front of other people.

A person must not say. "You were wrong and I was right. You always do this. You don't care about me. Nothing that matters to me matters to you. Your choices disgust me. I would never do the things you do, treat others the way you do, talk about myself the way you do, or think so highly of myself that I could never admit I might be wrong. But YOU. All the time – always the same. When will you ever learn?"

A person needs to think in the following way. "I am going to express my needs. What I have done, my reasoning, why I did it. I will explain where I am coming from. I will explain my choices. I will emphasize my commitment and dedication to this relationship. I care about you. I care about us. Above all, I want there to be peace between us. I want to hear your side, I want to hear your perspective, and really want us to come to a resolution."

As long as communication is done respectfully, resolution is attainable with dignity, honor, respect, and love. After all, "Who is most honored?" Those who want the best for one another, and demonstrate it through treating one another with the utmost respect.

An "Ezer" Against Him

Parshat Beresheet

by Rabbi Avi Billet

After describing the Tree of Knowledge and the instruction for how it is to be treated, the Torah describes God as saying, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make for him an "ezer" opposite him." [In the interest of being politically correct, we will not translate the word "ezer" right now.]

One would expect that the "ezer" would be created immediately. However, there is a strange interlude during which God fashions all of the animals of the earth, and the birds of the heavens to see what the man would name them. After naming the animals, we are told he did not find an "ezer" opposite him. In other words, after meeting all the animals, he felt none had been made as a partner for himself.

Only after this discovery does the Torah continue where it left off with God's "thought process" as it describes the process of how woman was formed.

Why the interlude? Was the post-creation party meant to assert who was created first? The dominion of man over animals? Was it meant to make clear how much Adam was missing in not having an "ezer"?

The Netziv describes the difference between the "ezer" that Adam was missing, and the companions he saw in all the animals. What Adam saw was that every animal's partner was essentially a partner for procreation, while there was no partnership or companionship beyond the achievement of that goal of reproduction.

Humans, on the other hand, have a need for companionship that goes beyond a simple, physical act. In a sense, this is what we call the "human connection" in which a real bond beyond words and physical acts makes a relationship special.

The interpretation of Rashi that "If a man merits, she is an 'ezer,' and if he does not merit then she is 'opposite him,'" is known. However, Netziv explains, the Torah is not describing two options, that she can either be an 'ezer' or she can be against him.

Rather, it is to be understood that her "opposition" can help him. A man with a temper can have his wife "help him." Either his temper helps him feel good, or his wife steps in to cover his ineptitude when his temper overtakes his emotions. In this way, she is his "ezer." (supporting a bad character trait) However, when the mood passes, Netziv explains, his guilt is even worse on account of the fuel his wife poured on the fire of his emotions, and that works against him.

On the other hand, if she opposes his anger from the beginning and brings him to calm down, even though she is acting against him, this is the true form of what it means to be an "ezer."

The Netziv's message is that the concept of a wife being an "ezer" and against him puts a tremendous amount of pressure on the woman to help her husband become a better person. Does it always work? Is her ability to discern when he is wrong a perfect ability? Depends who you ask. (I'm going to get it for this one!)

But the fact remains – in Netziv's approach – that sometimes being "against him" is a way of being his "ezer," helping him to improve his ways and become a better person. Or a more fulfilled person.

This is why the interlude is so important. Adam needed to understand the animal kingdom and to see that he and they are very different. We live in a world in which people see their pets as children and value their animals' lives, in some cases,  more than the lives of human strangers.

So Adam's first lesson is – "You are not an animal. You may share certain characteristics, but the bottom line is that you can never achieve with an animal what you can achieve with another human being." And a human being must be treated on a much higher level than how you will treat an animal.

Adam's second lesson is – "Don't view every confrontation that you have with a spouse as the end of the game. It is merely a means of helping you draw closer to one another."

It is this second lesson which is so difficult for partners who squabble to remember. There are some people who do not know how to move past a fight. They don't talk to each other for days and weeks, and may bring about divorce or worse if they don't see their fights are meant to bring them closer together.

But those whose attitude is, "I am in this for the long haul and will stick through this" must also realize that while adults will argue and fight, if their running theme is that they are on the same team, as opposed to adversaries, then even the fights can bring them closer together as their relationship is improved through the strengths they each bring to the table.

Punishment That Can Change a Man (And Some Thoughts on Divorce)

Parshat Ki Tetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In our post feminist world, a case in Devarim 22 is very troubling.

It concerns a man who marries and after consummating his marriage finds that he hates his wife. Instead of following the Torah's instruction for how to absolve a marriage through divorce (as is described in Devarim 24), he chooses to invent charges against her that she was unfaithful.

The most likely reason he invents the charges is to get himself out of having to pay her Ketubah – or whatever contractual agreement he entered in the marriage. In other words, he makes up a story to save a few shekels.

Of course her parents get all up in arms and do all they can to produce evidence to prove their daughter's innocence. If the evidence is accepted, "The city elders shall then take the man and flog him. They shall fine him 100 [shekels] of silver [as a penalty] for defaming an Israelite virgin, and give it to the girl's father. [The man] must then keep [the girl] as his wife, and may not send her away as long as he lives." (22:18-19)

Wait a minute. Did you catch that? He may not send her away as long as he lives? Isn't this supposed to be his punishment? What about her? Must she be condemned to live with this ingrate, this despicable individual who clearly doesn't like her, and who will go so far as to make up stories about her rather than go through the proper channels of either reconciliation, or, if need be, divorce, just in order to save himself some money? Why must she be stuck to this low-life? What about her life?

The Talmud (Ketubot 40a) explains that in cases similar to this (and if the parallel is not clear in the Talmud, the Torah Temimah assures us that it should be clear), the girl has every right, and is even instructed, to say "I don't want him." Her refusal, as the Malbim explains, gives her an easy out, and rids her of this nuisance of a man who doesn't deserve her, who tried to destroy her life. If she doesn't want him, there is no longer a positive commandment that he must marry her.

Let us assume for a moment that after whatever thought process, the girl decides she wants to stay with him. Maybe she thinks no one else will want her. After the accusation, anyone who Googles her name (even after she is proven innocent) will see the accusation at the top of every internet search of her name. She will really have no shot at a life other than with this man.

How is his inability to ever get rid of her a punishment to him, while at the same time being in some way to her benefit?

Certainly once upon a time, being married was automatically beneficial to a woman, as she was supported by her husband. And in Biblical and Talmudic times, any of the following scenarios would not present an out for him – absolution from responsibility.

Even if he somehow succeeded in divorcing her, he had to take her back (Yerushalmi Ketubot 3:6). Even if he discovers a real flaw in her, which could have absolved him of his marriage responsibilities – she becomes blind or lame, etc. - he is stuck. He must maintain and support her. (Sifrei) Even if she is barren for ten years, a condition which is viewed in some circles as grounds for divorce, he must maintain her (Malbim).

All of these indicate that even were she to become an undesirable for whatever reason, she must still be taken care of by her husband or his estate. This is an incredible guarantee which has no precedent anywhere else. Obviously most people who marry for the long haul, will be in tune to take care of one another no matter what conditions come up.

Equally obvious is that the man who fabricates a story to save a little money will not hesitate to jump ship when the going gets a little rougher. And so he needs an incentive to change who he is.

It must be understood that the Torah's rules only work for people who are committed to following them, who accept the ruling of a court and who do their best to follow the law. Every person tries to cut corners here and there, but when the judge in a court says to follow a ruling based on Torah principles, the devout person becomes grounded and does his best to comply.

The Torah says, "She must be a wife to him. He may not send her all of his days." Pay careful attention to the nuance. The onus is now on he who was careless about another person's feelings and reputation to now recognize that he must grow up and embrace another person in his life.

"She must be a wife to him" is reminding him how he must always view her. She is his wife. He must raise her up, must cherish her, and must find ways to honor and appreciate her. He may never shirk this responsibility.

It forces him to change his entire approach to females and to this woman in particular. Since she will now be with him for the long haul, if he does not want to have a miserable life, he must be the most amazing husband, doting, pampering, respectful, loving. In short, his bond is meant to turn him into a real mentsch.

           

Our communities (and faith communities in general) are the biggest proponents for marriage. And while divorce rates are rising, and are, in some cases, absolutely necessary, it is only through the method described in the Torah – that the man must write for and give his wife a divorce document – that marriages must end. The concept of the present-day "Agunah crisis" is so anti-Torah, it is a stain on any community that supports the use of a Get as a tool of extortion or preventing a woman from being able to move on with her life. Property and custody battles not withstanding. (Fight if you must, but without using the Get as a bargaining tool.)

           

The message given through this obnoxious husband is that the marriage union must be respected, and that a man must do what he can to see his woman as "his wife," who is to be honored and respected (see Rambam Hilchot Ishut 15:19). And while divorce is sometimes an option, if it is done through the prism of respecting another human being and the Torah's instruction, it is taken care of through the proper channels – with a divorce document that frees both people to move on with their lives.

           

An even better option, however, when divorce isn't absolutely necessary, is for people to view their marriage as sacrosanct, and to work very hard to do what is possible to raise the other person up. People who view their responsibilities in marriage as givers and supporters, rather than as takers and selfish individuals, have a much better chance of living out the blessing of the mitzvah here: "He can not send her away for the rest of his life" because he loves her so much and treats her so well, he cannot imagine a life without her as the center of his universe.

Intermarriage Education

See here for my previous posting on this subject

Parshat Shoftim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

For as far back as I can remember, I have heard rabbis and community leaders utilize catch phrases in public lectures: "We must stem the tide of assimilation!" and "Intermarriage rates are skyrocketing!"

            

Most Jews I have met who grew up in the 1920s and 30s married Jewish and tried to raise Jewish children. Marrying a non-Jew was out of the question – and perhaps in a slightly more bigoted and less-tolerant society the feeling was mutual.

            

Many Jews who grew up in the 40s and 50s were fed similar instructions. But perhaps the emergence of Israel as a state created a human, and even admirable face to the enigma of the Jew, and marrying whomever for love began to become an option.

Nowadays, with intermarriage in the United States being over 50%, many Jewish children grow up hearing, "As long as you love your spouse, as long as you are happy, it doesn't matter to us." More than likely, a number of parents who don't inculcate the need for their children to marry Jewish don't themselves understand why it should be important.

This is not to say any Jewish parents whose child married out did not try very hard to teach their children, nor is it to suggest they are failures. In our society, people choose spouses, often enough without, despite, or deliberately against their parents' input. More couples than I can count have said to me, "I am not happy about my kid's choices. But what can I do? I still love him/her."

Is intermarriage bad?

Not wishing to be judgmental, or to point fingers, let us just say that it is particularly frowned upon in the Talmud (Yevamot 76a, Kiddushin 68b, Avodah Zara 36b) and its commentaries, and most clearly in the words of Maimonides (Laws of Forbidden Relations chapter 12).

The Torah itself says (Devarim 7:3) "Do not marry them, don't give your daughter to his son, nor take his daughter for your son."

In all fairness, one of the Talmudic debates directly addresses the question of whether this verse applies only to the 7 Nations of Canaan, even if they convert, or to all non-Jewish nations who do not convert. Other than people from a few nations that no longer exist, those who convert are no longer subject to the prohibition of this kind of inter-marriage. After all, one who converts is a Jew.

The main reason given for the prohibition, as described by Targum Yonatan, is that a nuptial of this sort paints one as having married (embraced) the other person's gods. While the Talmud in Kiddushin goes back and forth postulating whether a man follows his wife's religion, or whether a woman follows her husband's, all of which has repercussions in defining whether the children of such a union are Jewish (the Talmud's conclusion is that only a Jewish mother bears Jewish children), the verse in 7:3 suggests that either union does not promote the kind of Jewish continuity that our People need. Rabbi S.R. Hirsch has a powerful essay on this point in his Torah commentary on this verse.

The Torah's solid prohibition of intermarriage often comes into question in the context of next week's parsha, in the opening section about the "Yefat To'ar" – the beautiful, sometimes married, woman that an Israelite soldier brings home from the battlefield. (21:11-13) Rashi there says the Torah responds to one's evil inclination.

The problem is exacerbated, however, because the permissive mode comes up elsewhere: in the war with Midyan (Bamidbar 31:9,18) and in our parsha (Devarim 20:13-14). In these cases, the Torah does not seem to be responding to a particular lust – it is saying that the female prisoners of war are now available to you.

            

The Alshich in our parsha couches it all nicely saying the intent is to reflect and change one's ways through utilizing these people in helping one perform commandments.

            

In an article discussing Yefat Toar, Rabbi Michael Rosensweig addressed the question of the Torah's allowing these kinds of unions.

            

His message is quite relevant here.

            

A careful study of the Yefat Toar process affirms the need to "refashion one's emotional response to avoid even sanctioned halachic compromise."  Quoting the Kli Yakar, Rabbi Rosensweig noted that "in order to succeed against the concrete enemy on the battlefield, one must first struggle internally to refine one's halachic values and vanquish the yetzer ha-ra that is accentuated by the passions of battle." The Rabbis spoke of the negative consequences of marrying the Yefat Toar, even if it is a legal union, consequences Rabbi Rosensweig described as coming from "diluted and compromised standards of discipline, restraint, and mutual respect, [which are otherwise] cornerstones of the halachic vision of sanctity in family life."

That the Torah allows these unions specifically as a result of war stands to indicate that even these unions, valid in a specific context, are far from ideal. Suggesting "the Torah allows it and it is therefore OK all the time" is an invalid argument.

There are many people who intermarry who nonetheless agree to raise their children Jewish. I would invite the non-Jewish spouse who is raising Jewish children to consider converting – why not be completely on the same page as your children?

For the sake of the future of our People, while I hope we all bear only friendly will towards our non-Jewish neighbors, coworkers and friends, it behooves us to remind ourselves and our children (and extended family!) that we marry Jews to maintain our heritage and to preserve the best way to serve God according to the dictates of the Torah.

Sotah-So-Good For Marriage?

Parshat Naso

by Rabbi Avi Billet

R. Shalom Isaac Mizrachi (Divrei Shalom Responsa YD 9) was asked a question: If a person slaughtered an animal but did not cover the blood, is the meat of the animal permitted to be eaten?

He begins his answer quoting the Shulchan Arukh, who says there is a mitzvah to cover the blood (based on Vayikra 17:13), and the Rama who says that mitzvah is separate from the valid slaughtering which is still good even if he deliberately did not cover the blood.

            

As in any good responsa where the Shulchan Arukh is the tip of the iceberg, he goes on for pages and pages. He distinguishes between this case and circumstances which arise in the Torah in which an antidote is prescribed for a problem.

            

A slaughtered animal is permitted to be eaten regardless of whether one followed or violated the mitzvah to cover the blood. However, a person would remain 'tameh' forever had we not had a mitzvah of the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer). He goes on to say that if we did not have the mitzvah of the Sotah drink (Bamidbar 5 – our parsha), peace would never be attainable for a husband and wife living under a cloud of suspicion and jealousy. The doubts of faithlessness would be enough to force a mandated separation.

            

As he develops the comparison between covering the blood of the slaughtered animal against the Parah Adumah equation and the Sotah, he further distinguishes between the former and the latter two cases. Without the covering of the blood, one can still derive benefit from the slaughtered animal. But it is only with the ashes of the Red Heifer that one derives the benefit of becoming 'tahor.' It is only with the Sotah drink that one derives the benefit of achieving the peace in the home that comes from the divine clarification that leads to a clear conscience.

            

In explaining how he derives these comparisons from the words of Rashi, the Divrei Shalom says, "Had we not been commanded about the Sotah drink (literally 'the dirt of Sotah' which is dissolved in the drink) there would not be peace between husband and wife."

            

This final formulation is a little different than before. Earlier he suggested that peace would not be attainable under the circumstance of suspicion, and now he is suggesting that peace would be impossible in general, were the mitzvah of Sotah not in the books.

            

Is he suggesting that the possibility of undergoing the Sotah embarrassment is meant to be a deterrent? That knowing that "a mere suspicion of faithlessness could be enough to possibly end a marriage" would cause people to be scrupulously attentive to their spouses and to behave in a manner that is, at all times, above suspicion?

Was Sotah, like the mitzvah of the rebellious son (Devarim 21:18-21), which the Talmud (Sanhedrin 71a) claims never happened, a ritual placed in the Torah as a warning and deterrent, simply for us to learn the lesson of how to and how not to behave?

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai abolished the Sotah ritual (Sotah 47a) because, as the Talmud suggests, it did not serve very well as a deterrent during his time.

Nowadays, the idea of Sotah seems so anachronistic, on the one hand, and so chauvinistic on the other. And yet I wonder what such a deterrent would do for marriages today.

There are different ways people look at marriage. Some go into it and are committed to stick with it through thick and thin. Some have a very special relationship built on a mutual respect, a shared vision of a life, and the ability to communicate well with one another. Some view it as a commitment that will last as long as it feels right. Some might even assume that they will one day become a statistic.

We don't have the Sotah ritual, but we live in a world in which faithlessness can't hide forever, only to be exposed in some divine ritual. It eventually comes out. And the inevitable exposé doesn't stop those (men or women) who will not respect their marriages.

But maybe there is something to a deterrent of some kind. If Rabbi Mizrachi is correct that peace would be impossible for husbands and wives to achieve without the Sotah ritual being "out there," there are grounds to say that a good number of people will heed the "warning" and will view their marriage commitment as sacred. The "Shalom Bayit" – peace in the home – they will achieve will be elevated by their efforts to renew their love and kinship on a regular basis. They will see only one another, and will never even be tempted to see if there's someone better out there. And any attempt of the yetzer hara (Evil Inclination) will be scornfully turned aside, because "There is none more beautiful in my eyes, or more appropriate for me than the one to whom I am married."

May we merit to think of the Sotah ritual in this way, as an encouragement to find and bring out the best in our spouses so that our marriages can be elevated in the Bayit Neeman B'Yisrael we are all blessed at our weddings to build until we reach the age of 120.

Shidduch Resumes

Parshat Chayei Sarah

by Rabbi Avi Billet

I've heard it said a number of times that were Yitzchak and Rivkah alive today, there is no way they'd get married.

One can only imagine the report Avraham, "the gadol hador," would receive from his servant, the shadchan (matchmaker), after he interviewed Rivkah for the first time. "Family: Unrepentant idolators (father tried to kill me during our meeting), incorrigible brother; Girl: Very confident, thinks for herself, knows what she wants, a little on the young side."

For Yitzchak, it might read something like this: "Family: Mother dead, Father very old. Very God-fearing. Boy: 40 years old, still lives at home (possibly lives in the Negev), not very talkative, no real-world experience except for the time his father almost offered him as a sacrifice."

Rivkah resembled the very confident women I sometimes read about, who are so intimidating in their self-awareness that they never marry. Some women like this were married before they became what they are – following the advice of my grandmother who believes people should get married younger, before they become too smart for themselves.

To be fair, I know of a few successful, professional, "frum" women who were unable to find spouses (not that they didn't try), who opted to have a child through IVF in their mid to late 30s. This decision comes about after a thought process that includes, "I am not going to give up my chance of having a baby, just because I was unable to find a husband."

I will not pass judgment on either type. All kinds of permutations play into the lives people live and the choices they make (and this applies to men too – except they don't have the opportunity to give birth).

But I think Rivkah's choice to go with Avraham's servant was a coda to a wonderful first impression she gave him. And, in a sense, the timing was perfect for her to go to marry Yitzchak, because as confident and self-aware as she was, she was young enough to recognize that marriage was something she wanted, and that the opportunity she had before her may have been a once-in-a-lifetime chance to leave her surroundings and join what would undoubtedly become a great nation. In 24:49, the servant said if she wouldn't come, he would look elsewhere.

In Rivkah's case, the situation played out poetically. Avraham's servant felt that after her father and brother said "This is from God" (24:50) it was a done deal. All he needed to do was go. And so he was a bit surprised at the hesitation on the part of her family when he begged permission to leave with Rivkah.

Her brother and mother replied, '[At least] let the girl remain with us for another year or ten [months]. Then she can go.' (24:55)

He persisted that he must be on his way.

They replied "Let's call the girl and ask her personally." They summoned Rivkah and said to her, 'Do you want to go with this man?' 'I will go,' she replied. (24:57-58)

The implications of these comments are compelling.

The Alshikh claims they only agreed to let her go because they assumed they would be rewarded handsomely. As soon as they were merely given "migdanot" (mere gifts, or fruits), they tried their delay tactics. They didn't say "You can take her." They said "She'll go" (24:51) – implying "When she's ready, but not with you." They tried to demean him by asking Rivkah "Will you go with this man" as if he's a man undeserving of respect.

The Ta"Z adds that they were asking in a pejorative manner "Do you really want to go with this guy?" to suggest a wonder over how she might even entertain the notion. Had they been asking her opinion, they would have added the words "Im lo" (or not) as if presenting both sides of the question. Her answering "I will go" implies that she was going of her own accord, even if they did not want her to go – as Rashi suggsted.

Rashbam says they tried to suggest to her to wait a while in case a different man may come along to capture her attention. Radak posits they were even trying to be on the up-and-up when they offered to ask her in front of the servant, "…Lest you think we convinced her to stay without allowing her to share her own feelings," because they thought she wouldn't go.

Rivkah proved that one's actions and feelings and personal accomplishments are more important than any question of pedigree and "yichus."

Every couple has the right to choose how they want to live their Jewish lives, and personal journeys can play as much of a role in determining what that will look like as does their upbringing. Rivkah's qualities and personality were a good counter to the more passive Yitzchak, and served her son Yaakov well for his own dealings with Eisav and Lavan.

If my grandmother is right about young people, then I am glad Rivkah met Yitzchak at the young age she did, because had she waited… who knows if Yitzchak would have been good enough for her?

The Community of God

Ki Tetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Chapter 23, verses 2-4 list a number of male types who may not enter "k'hal Hashem," the community of God. On a simple level, the verses seem strange. The first two individuals – men who have become sterile on account of external, or unnatural incidents – are likely Jewish men. As is the "mamzer," the product of two Jewish people who participated in a Torah-forbidden relationship. Don't they enter the community of God the moment they are born?

The Ammonite and Moabite males who may not enter the community of God are understandably in a different category, it would seem. But when the Torah says "Also the tenth generation may not enter the community of God" – which generation is the "tenth"? How is that calculated? May they become Jews, but only be accepted by the community after ten generations? How would they have any generations if they are not accepted?

While not proposing this exact definition, many of the commentaries define the "non-entry into the community of God" as a prohibition against their marrying Jewish women. Or a prohibition for Jewish women against marrying them.

What kind of discrimination is this? What about love? What about free choice? What about real human bonding? What do you say if people connect in their souls? Why should the Torah care who a woman marries, or if these men have found women who will help them not be alone?

Moabite converts may have once had to marry within their conversion community (if they were permitted to convert), but the fact is that the Ammonite and Moabite prohibition no longer applies in our world, because Sanncherib mixed around cultures, causing these nations to disappear (Talmud Brachot 28a).

As I do not intend to discuss the "mamzer" here, we will now move on the males who have become infertile due to an unnatural act. The comments of the ancient rabbis you are about to read might not smack of political correctness, and certainly do not take modern psychology knowledge into consideration. Nonetheless, I think they are very instructive as to how we can define some of the purposes of marriage.

**IOW - Disclaimer: This discussion relates to men whose genitalia have been physically mutilated. It does not relate to individuals who struggle with infertility for other reasons.**

Some of the arguments proposed by commentaries as to why they may not enter the community of God include: if they no longer have a possibility of fathering children, why should they marry women in the first place? (Chizkuni); the union of a man and wife is a foundation of inspiration and acceptance, which unnatural unfortunate events have rendered impossible on account of the inability to produce children for that purpose – which makes a deficiency in the upper spheres (Rabbi Menachem Ricanati, the Italian kabbalist of the 13^th century) [English translation: if they will not be able to have children to inspire to follow God's ways, a marriage of this sort seems less than ideal]

Along similar lines, Rabbenu Bachaye explains "the community of God" as referring to "marrying an Israelite woman," because, in his understanding, the main reason for marriage is to have children and to raise the next generation. When a man is physically incapable (scientifically is a different discussion), his marriage fails to serve its ultimate purpose.

However, Rabbenu Bachaye adds, since the Torah does not forbid "his getting married" (only entering the community of God), he may marry other women who are part of the Jewish community, such as a convert (there are different levels of conversion) or a freed Canaanite maid. Whatever relations the man may be able to have (or any relations in any union) that do not produce children are permitted in the context of marriage.

The Alshich is most practical, saying if a woman marries a man who is incapable of giving her a child, she might resort to forbidden means to get the child for which she yearns.

In our modern technological world, women who yearn for that child have options that need not include a forbidden relationship. Which can resolve the Alshich's concern.

           

Rabbenu Bachaye's feelings regarding marriage are alleviated by his openness to the reality that people who are scientifically incapable of producing children also marry, as do people who are past child producing years. We certainly understand that people marry for companionship and all kinds of reasons not necessarily related to having a family. Perhaps even suggesting that two people get married in order that they may produce children (when nothing else 'clicks') could be viewed as a creepy approach to matchmaking.

            

But the ultimate lesson is that a Jewish marriage, and a proper Jewish union, is called "Entering the community of God."

            

I wish for and bless all those currently looking for mates to look beyond yourself and your needs to find that the person who will help you enter the community of God need merely be a person who shares a common goal and a common vision for what you want out of life. The community of God is one that speaks of an existence of kedushah, of holiness, which is achieved through the kindnesses we do for our spouses, and the choices we utilize to make their lives more fulfilling.

            

May all Jewish people merit to live a life in the community of God, with marriages that work to inject holiness at every turn. And if children are part of the equation, may they grow to follow in the footsteps of the community of God in which they are raised.

An Important Issue - Quick Marriages and Divorces

Last week an article I wrote about what I call the "post-shidduch crisis" appeared in The Jewish Star. It made its way to the vosizneias.com, where it created a bit of a splash.

It made it to Gil Student's hit list on his blog - hirhurim.blogspot.com - one of the Thursday links.

Here is the article - please feel free to comment below...

Opinion: The Post-Shidduch Crisis

By Rabbi Avi Billet

Issue of October 30th/ 12 Cheshvan 5770

Our community has a lot to say about the “shidduch crisis.” First, we blame the singles themselves. Why can’t young people date like we did? Why can’t they meet people in normal ways? Why can’t they have social functions like we had? Why can’t they get over their hang-ups of dating one person at a time? Why do they have to be so picky? Maybe they don’t really want to get married, because if they did, they would.

Then we blame their teachers. Why don’t the rebbeim do something about it? Why do they teach the boys that girls are taboo until it’s time to get married? Why are girls prohibited from talking to boys because of a stigma?

Then we blame halacha (Jewish law). It’s because they can’t be normal teenagers or adults – they don’t hold hands (plenty do anyway — that’s for a different discussion). What’s the big deal about a casual hug or impersonal kiss? Modesty shmodesty — they’re going to share a bedroom once they’re married, so why the need to dress modestly now?

Then we blame the culture we’ve created. Ridiculous background checks that put FBI and El-Al security to shame. Measuring tapes to check lengths of skirts, sleeves, and hat-brims. How classy are the “mechutanim”? (What does any of this have to do with whether the dating couple will honor, respect and care for each other in what will hopefully be a long marriage?)

It’s been said before that people get more excited about, and put way more hours into, preparing what will be a five-hour wedding than what should be, in good health, a fifty-plus years marriage.

Which leads to a newer, more serious crisis: the post-shidduch “very short marriage” crisis.

One of my professors in Yeshiva University would quip that college students got engaged so they could tell their friends “I’m engaged.” He’d say, “You people don’t know anything about love and romance. And you’re all too young to get married.”

Based only on informal polling, I would bet most people would probably prefer to experience or witness a broken engagement than a divorce. One of the last statements in Tractate Gittin (90b) is Rabbi Elazar’s comment that when a divorce takes place, even the mizbeach (altar) sheds tears.

At one point a couple of years ago, I personally knew of five marriages and divorces between the same couples that had taken place over a period of ten months. It is sad to think that all the joy, optimism and hope that took place at the wedding resulted in misunderstandings, disrespect (in some cases), and shattered dreams.

Unquestionably, men and women go into marriages with different expectations. Men and women have different needs spiritually, emotionally, and physically. They each bring different strengths to a marriage. But they each need to know in advance that not only is the marriage a partnership, but it is also a team. Sometimes you need to sacrifice yourself so the other person can shine. But the sacrifice helps the team win.

What is lost in communication pre-marriage? In all the hours dating and talking and sharing dreams, what is missed? How does the “love love love” feeling drastically switch (in such a short time) to “divorce”? Could it be we are not teaching ourselves that problems can come up and we need to deal with them? Could it be our eyes are so glazed over at the thought and process of preparing for that walk down the aisle we forget that five hours after the procession there’s a life to live together? And we need to prepare for that?

In America, it’s been said that “Marriage as an institution is a failure.” (To a similar statement, Groucho Marx said “And who wants to live in an institution?”) But it doesn’t have to be. It can be stressful, at times, and it requires work all the time. And that is why the married couple is a team. When a team works together and communicates, they can succeed. If each player is only worried about his or her own stats, the team has no chance.

Communication is hard at first. How does one give up being single, independent, making your own decisions, and replace that with having to think of another person? How does one communicate intimate, private thoughts about very personal dilemmas that one has never shared with anyone before? It sometimes takes time to really get to know and trust one’s spouse.

People who have never lived together do not really know each other until they have lived together for some time. I heard a great speaker talk about love and marriage and he declared, “Knowing what I know about love now [after 25 years of marriage] I would venture to say I did not love my wife when we got married.” But they grew together and built a wonderful marriage together.

There are a number of very traumatic events in a person’s life that can have a negative impact on one’s psyche and lead to symptoms of depression. They include: getting married, birth of a baby, moving, starting a new job, getting fired, divorcing, death of a close loved one. Marriage and moving usually take place at the same time, and if the wife or husband is from “out of town,” the move can be even more traumatic. The two people need to be there for each other, to trust each other, to share with each other, validate feelings, work together, see a marriage counselor if necessary, and work through kinks. The first few miles of any new road can be bumpy, but that doesn’t mean it’s an altogether bad road.

This is not to say that mistakes don’t happen. Some things creep up and come out in a way a person might never know until a man and woman share a roof. In some cases, there can be no reparation and the two parties will really have a miserable marriage if they stay together. This is why the Torah describes a method of divorce, why an entire tractate of the Talmud is dedicated to the topic, and why a complete section of the Shulchan Arukh is devoted to interpersonal relationships between men and women in the context of marriage and divorce. It is certainly hard to know the future. But divorce after a four-month marriage shouldn’t always be the answer to what seem to be, after such a short time, irreconcilable differences.

The mizbeach would like to stop crying.