Vayisapeir
he’aved l’Yitzhak et kol-had’varim asher asah. Va’y’vi’eha Yitzhak ha’ohelah
Sarah imo vayikach et-Rivka va’t’hi-lo l’ishah vaye’ehaveha vayinacheim Yitzhak
acharei imo.
And the servant told to Isaac all that Rivka had done. And Isaac
brought her into the tent of Sarah, his mother, and he took Rivka to be his
wife, and he loved her, and Isaac was comforted after his mother. (Breishit
24:66-67)
Recently, when
packing away some children’s toys, I had to make the decision of what to save
and what to give away. Thinking about it I realized that, if Jesse marries when
Sean & I did, we could be planning a wedding in just 5 years. I packed the
toys into the basement. Sean and I have been married for over 20 years. If you
look at our wedding photo we look like children. In many ways we were. It was a
good time to get married. As we grew up, we also grew together.
More and more
people look to finish school and be settled before getting married. They look
for financial solvency. Set-ups are harder. They’re looking for their b’shert,
who somehow fulfills a checklist of traits. I will tell you this is all highly
over-rated. As we age and settle it becomes harder and harder to mesh lives. We
become set in our ways. We are focused on jobs and routines.
When asked in
rabbinical school what the husband of a rabbi is called, I would flippantly
answer, “Doctor.” What I was sure of was that I would never marry another
rabbi. I also thought I’d marry a blonde, blue-eyed guy, passing on my
eye-colour to my future flaxen-headed children. Clearly that was not meant to
be.
I met Rav Sean
when my roommate and I needed help moving our furniture. He came and never
left. He was, and is a good person. He offered me use of his car and a
listening ear. He was kind. He was caring. We never really dated. We went from
being friends to being engaged. Open more to looking at each other’s deeds and
character, rather than a checklist, we found our b’shert in each other.
I will not say
it’s always been perfect. Even as young as we were we had routines to which we
clung. Looking back, a favourite moment found me yelling at Rav Sean that the
argument couldn’t be over since I was not done yelling at him. We were still
growing into who were to be. Our openness to that made all the difference. This
is the benefit of a set-up or even a shiddach. The arranger knows the people:
who they really are inside, not only what they look like. In communities where
arranged marriages are common, the rates by which couples measure their love
increase over time. Beginning with a firm foundation, and an expectation that
love grows in time, couples work to make it so. As it says in the song from
“Fiddler on the Roof,”
Tevye: The first
time I met you was on our wedding day.
Golde: I was shy. Tevye:
I was nervous. Golde:
So was I.
Tevye: But my
father and my mother said we’d learn to love each other. So, now I’m asking
Goldie… Do you love me?
Golde: I’m your
wife! Tevye:
I know. But do you love me?
Golde: Do I love
him? For 25 years I’ve lived with him; fought with him; starved with him. For
25 years my bed is his. If that’s not love what is?
Tevye: Then you
love me. Golde:
I suppose I do.
Tevye: And I suppose I love you too.
Tevye and Golde
only knew about each other. Isaac doesn’t know Rivka. She covers herself with a
veil upon seeing him. He doesn’t even know what she looks like. What he does
know is her actions and what they tell him about her character. For this he is
willing to marry her, “and he loved her,” and this makes all the difference. We
may not wish to return to arranged marriages. However, from them we still have
a lot to learn.
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