What's a Girl to Do?

I once informed someone who was contemplating divorce: "You have no idea what divorce does to you spiritually". In short, contemplate staying married, because the spiritual ramifications of divorce are quite dire.

What I was referring to in that long-ago conversation is how,post-divorce, you typically get to a point within the first year where your tayvahs come to the fore. Indeed, it happens in such a linear fashion that you unconsciously start questioning where you have been holding and start adopting all types of koolahs. To wit- my current trading in of stockings and long skirts in favour of ankle socks and knee-length skirts, not to mention my wearing pyjamas instead of a nightgown if my laundry situation permits.

Granted, according to many poskim, my wardrobe choices are 100%permissible. Still, I cannot help but heave a sigh of relief that my shenanigans seem to have stopped there, because I know plenty of divorcees who became full-on pleasure seekers. I have even known a handful that frequent clubs of the "exclusive, adult-only" ilk. (Shudder.) Still, I wonder/worry about just how much further down the road I might wind up going.

Motzei Shabbos, during a bout of insomnia (and fueled by my neighbours' audible argument concerning a particular shidduch), I read online that it is an aveirah if you do not wish to marry. Now, while I assume there is some leeway for persons such as myself that are recently divorced, I had to question my present mindset. After all, do I want to remarry? Do I rush to fulfill that unspoken expectation from the frum community? No. Instead, if my mind happens to even go there (which is basically never these days), I see such a situation transpiring only many, many, many, many (you get the idea) years from now. In short, I can hardly state that my objective is to get married anytime in the foreseeable future. Heck, given my apathy towards dating, the venues left for "finding my basheret" basically include the sidewalk, street corner, metro or shop. Mind you, given my track record, maybe that's not a terrible thing...

To be honest, the most troubling aspect of my single status is that I have zero interest in dating because I have zero interest in dealing with men. Sometimes even my male friends manage to peeve me off due to their male mindset/behaviour. Moreover, since spent my 30s navigating the gender divide, I am ready for an extended break from it. Additionally, the dating pool that I dove into twice before is not exactly offering me anything new and enticing. That renders the prospect of dating and remarrying even more unappealing.

Thus, while I am thoroughly enjoying 1. being single, and 2. devoting my limited energy and resources to yours truly (for the first time in my life), should I be worried? Is the impetus for my behaviour simply self-nurturing or does it stem from a more insidious, evil source?

I suppose only time will tell. In the meantime, I am attempting to straddle the divide between spiritual vigilance and a life that I enjoy living. Since the universal enemy of yiddin is the yetzer hara, and in turn every yid faces the same challenge, that approach is pretty much all I can expect to do, for now.

The Boy

About a month ago, I had a 3 minute conversation with "A Boy" recommended by the Yeshivah Rav (see A Tall Order). He seemed like a nice enough sort, but really just rang to decide how we would communicate. Since it had taken him a week after the Rav gave him my number and our schedules seem mutually exclusive, we hit upon emailing for the time being.

So we exchanged a "breaking the ice" email, and so far, still good.
But during that initial 90 second exchange, I got a "vibe". Then , dafka, the next day the Rav rings to see how "things are progressing". I told him that we had only just spoken the day before. "What, he just called you?", the Rav said. Instead of saying "Hey, he obviously doesn't make dating a priority", I just muttered a mmmm-hmmmm. Then I asked the Rav if "the Boy" had ever been married for.

No, of course not! And there I found myself, set up with yet another guy who was (well) into his 40s and never married. Not a very palatable option, given my history.

Then a week goes by, and I hear zippo. Same thing the next week. Granted, I would have been lukewarm at best if he had made contact. Finally I get a long email from him, stating we must have had a "miscommunication", he thought I would call him, but he's been oh so very busy (and listed all the various simchas he was involved in during the previous weeks).

I then became royally ticked. Here's a guy who makes dating a low priority, but convinces himself that the real issue is miscommunication and that he's been incredibly busy. I quipped to a friend of mine that he should save everyone the trouble and stop pretending he's marriage material. She, in turn, stated that the "logical" way of viewing his email is that he was simply explaining why he hadn't contacted me. She made me feel, like everyone else involved in "shidduchim" that I was being unreasonable.

Yet I remained skeptical, because, let's face it, I'm pretty much damaged goods at this point. One thing I have learned is that sometimes, you just can't give someone the benefit of the doubt.

Sure enough, he still couldn't find time to email me after I responded to his "miscommunication" email. Indeed, the pattern has been that he takes 1-2 weeks each time to respond.

By the end, I decided to stop being diplomatic, and just put the truth out there: Sorry buddy, but I am really not interested in dating, because I have zero interest in getting married in the near future. If only everyone was honest about their intentions, eh?

The kicker? He urged me to not wait too long to date, and wants me to keep him in mind when I do. Why? Because he has gotten the impression that I'm a fun, kind, giving type of girl. I of course refrained from mentioning that he only seemed interested because I was taking myself off the market. If he had gotten such a favourable impression, why not pursue our relationship a bit more fervently? We can all surmise the psychological reasons; I needn't bore you by itemizing all that gibberish.

So, my sincere apologies to my friend, but it would seem that my gut instinct proved correct on this one. And, for the foreseeable future, I am looking forward to fully focusing my attention on me and getting my life back to how it used to be.

I am, after all, worth it!
Wish me luck, y'all!

Resumes and What Not

It would seem that more than on Rav at the yeshiva is involved with shidduchim. In fact, during his last stay in America, none other than the top poo-bah spent several hours of his (and my) time contacting one donor whose children are "in shidduchim".

One email that was involved in this mission included on those "resumes" that I had kept hearing about the last 4 years. A question that had always plagued me was, what type of resume could a 19 year-old have? What exactly were the contents of such a resume? Well folks, that there mystery was solved today.

It turns out that these all-important documents, which parents put together with much heartfelt anguish and concern, contains nothing more than:

• a list that includes the names and ages of the shidduch's family members (mother, father, siblings),
• a description of the child's personality and core middot, and
• a few quotes from people who know the child describing him/her

Given my (extensive, lol) experience with both dating and shadchanim, I was left with the strong impression that "the resume" was a wasted exercise. What is the relevance of this document? What information of value does it provide the reader? Yes, understanding where the child fits in the family is good information. And yes, it certainly is feel-good to have acquaintances say complimentary things.

But in the end, how much better do you really know the given person by having read this two-pager? So while I understand that the purpose of the document is supposedly to provide a summary of the "boy" or "girl" so that one can evaluate them for a potential match, I would have to weigh in by saying that unless more details of substance are added, one needn't lose too much sleep over their resume.

Because at the end of the day, they all read the same anyway. And isn't that the point? We wouldn't want our son or daughter to sound unique, after all! ;)

A Tall Order

One of the "features" of my latest job is that I interact with all Rebbeim. Sure, they're all old-school, and their mental frame of reference causes them to refer to me as "the new secretary". I mean, what else would a woman in a yeshiva be, right? Yet they are for the most part all good-intentioned, pleasant individuals.

Alas, one Rabbi informed me almost immediately after my arrival that he does shidduchim and may have a few "boys" for me. At first I was just vaguely amused, since:

1. How could anyone refer to people in my age bracket as boys or girls?, and
2. Why did he want to set me up? He barely knew me.

Indeed, it would seem that part of the reason for his determination was the previously-mentioned mindset: frummies can't seem to grasp how anyone could be almost 40 and unmarried. Sure, I was married before. But that anyone over 35 should be alone? That deeply unsettles people around these parts, and it often has less to do with a sincere desire to help versus the need to get everyone to conform to the party line. Think about it- if someone can be older, single and fulfilled, well what does that say for everyone else? Something's just got to be wrong then, right?

I realised that I was going to have to go along with the whole kit and caboodle. I do work there and I do try to be accommodating. So I figured maybe it would be a good way to ease back into dating. Go on a few dates with his "boys" and go from there.

Now, this Rabbi did call me a couple of times and subject me to the third degree. And because I understand that such behaviour is par for the course, I sucked it up and answered his questions (many of which were more intimate and embarrassing than any inquiries made by my own mother in recent memory).

But you see, the part that got to me is that he poo-pooed my desired criteria:

• Working
• Modern- versus yeshivish, like my workplace ;)
• Previously married
• Grew up out-of-town

In fact, he basically went so far as to intimate that I should have no criteria, since at this point, I should be happy to get any shidduchim! I mean, really- who on earth would possibly be willing to go out with me, once they read my "resume" (more on resumes in a different post). I literally had to say "It's a tall order, I know", in order to placate him and prove that I'm reasonable.

The entire exercise was, in short, downright belittling. And not particularly sensitive, to be honest, given my recent return to single hood.

So maybe I'm shooting myself in the foot here, but I'd like to hear from my readers: what is, in your opinion, the greatest red flag when you read my resume? That I've been divorced twice? That I have no children? That I have had health issues as of late?

Because, in the words of my first husband when he learned of my remarriage, "he's a lucky man". Having a Hubby #1 who's willing to voice my virtues post-divorce? Now doesn't that just say it all about my "value" in the shidduchim market? Put out the rest of it with the trash, I say!

Can't I Just Be Frum?

I heard recently that one of the latest questions that shadchanim ask a girl is whether she sleeps in a nightgown or pyjamas. Supposedly nowadays, as opposed to when I was growing up, the thought is that pyjamas are actually more tznius- despite consisting of pants. Perhaps they mean does the girl wear pyjama bottoms under the nightgown? All I know is my Mom had me sleeping in a nightgown at a pretty young age. And duh I wore something in addition to the nightgown, albeit not pyjama bottoms. So does that make me less tznius?

Which brings me to the point of this post. There I was yesterday, enjoying a little impromptu shopping in NWL, trying to decide whether I am now supposed to be buying PJs instead of nightgowns or in addition to nightgowns. And that's when I reached my limit. Why on earth should I be wasting mental energy trying to decide if nightgowns are now assur? WHO CARES?

It would appear though that Brooklyn cares. A lot. So here comes my question of the hour:

Why can't I just have a relationship with Hashem, without it becoming the business of everyone else in this and every other frummie neighbourhood? Why should anyone feel comfortable enough asking me what I wear to bed at night? How I stack my dishes on Shabbos and/or if I do? If I wear colour or only black and white? As long as I'm shomer mitzvos, show ahavah to my fellow yid, and try to continue to foster my relationship with The Creator, why must I be subjected to the questions/comments/looks?

Can't I just be frum and have that be good enough already?

Duped Again

I got referred to a family for Shabbos lunch, and it turned out to be yet another "singles" affair, complete with two dozen or so older singles. GRRR.

To be fair, the hostess was a wonderful, warm lady, as evidenced by the fact that when I first arrived and went to the kitchen to introduce myself, the other ladies were all in there too. I find that such grouping tends to only occur when the hostess has truly opened her home and heart to her guests.

In any event, the food was delicious, but the problem was that there was no talking during the meal (save when the women cleared and congregated in the kitchen between courses). Instead, the talking during the meal consisted of the host giving over divrei Torah, complete with the constant, "subtle" focus of reminding us singles that it is our shortcomings that have prevented us from getting married. Of course, if we just apply the advice from his divrei Torah, he'll have the joy of attending all of our vorts and chuppahs!

But it didn't stop there. It seems that the host also has a minhag of going around the table, and giving each guest an individualized beracha. Very nice, except he again throws in a bit of mussar. He even told the woman to my left that she should learn to be flexible and listen more- in front of everyone. I cringed internally,, wondering how he could justify embarrassing someone in public like that. When it got to me, I told him before he started that I didn't need a beracha for a shidduch. He managed to alter his beracha formula for me in time. When I was taking my leave after the meal however, he felt the need to raise the question: Why had I asked him to refrain from a beracha for a shidduch? I found the question inappropriate, but since that was evidently the law of the land in that house, I decided that honesty was the best policy. So I explained my situation to him, and he remarked "Smart woman". I managed to refrain from the almost automatic eye-roll, cordially thanked him, and managed to escape without giving any confirmation concerning a repeat visit.

Now, I can certainly appreciate a host who opens his door wide for singles, and sincerely wants to help his guests find their bashert. However, it's about time that some Rav puts a stop to this condescending down talk. Just because some one is married does not mean that they are qualified to speak on shidduchim or that they themselves are perfect spouses. So let's refrain in future from this New York-wide phenomenon of marrieds feeling justified in passing mussar on to their single guests. It is simply offensive. Obviously, if one knows a guest well, is on good terms, and the guest initiates the topic during private conversation, a host may (I repeat, may) have an opening to gently point out certain behaviour that is preventing the guest from finding their bashert. But most of the time,the delicate topic of shidduchim should be left to the given man or woman, their Rav, and their shadchan.

Because in the end, humiliating one's guests in front of each other, even with the best of intentions, is simply unacceptable.

Cynosure: Friends of the Opposite Gender

It's been a looooonnnnnng time since anyone asked my opinion on dating. Given my personal history, can you blame them? But I do have one friend who occasionally seeks my counsel. (Or, to use their words, "WWPCD: What would La Poutine Cachere do?".) The current conundrum facing my erstwhile friend was whether it is appropriate to have friends of the opposite gender if you're dating someone seriously. The foregone conclusion the said friend arrived at was that (surprise!) it's halachically better to abstain from such relationships. The following is my take on the issue.

In my case, I don't buy into the typical frummie adage that all opposite gender friendships de facto carry a sexual undercurrent, since I have personally had purely platonic friendships with men. Yes, there definitely are people out there who cannot think of someone of the opposite gender except in a sexual way, or who cannot refrain from wanting to "keep the door open". However, such people typically give off signals that they feel/think that way, and one should refrain from friendships with such people. Granted, I chose to only be friends with men who do not fall into the above category.

Another point where I differ from the party line is that I don't feel that maintaining opposite gender friendships is counterproductive to maintaining a relationship with one's significant other. Your significant other must always remain your primary relationship, and the focal point of your life. However, I believe that having friends outside this primary relationship is beneficial to that relationship, since one should rely on themselves to address their own "needs", i.e. they should not expect their significant other to be their "everything". As I tell every man when dating, my philosophy is that you are two independent people in a relationship, and is obviously the relationship to which one devotes the vast majority of one's energy. But if you devote all of your energy solely to your relationship without devoting adequate energy to also taking care of yourself, you will inevitably become dissatisfied in your relationship. Indeed, you may come to even resent all the effort you are devoting unless you maintain interests and a sense of independent identity.

Friends are a part of this separate identity, and if your friend happens to be of the opposite gender, that isn't unequivocably a problem. Where such relationships typically become a problem though is where there is either a lack of trust or a lack of self-esteem. After all, if your significant other trusted you implicitly and had adequate self-esteem, such relationships shouldn't fuel any shalom bayis problems.

That said, human nature being what it is, I suppose the rebbeim instituted the party line because people do have trust and self-esteem issues. Consider the party line therefore a pre-emptive measure to prevent potential marital discord. I can certainly respect that. In the end then, you need to hold where you're comfortable. My only caveats are that one should ensure that one isn't giving up such friendships due to trust issues, and that such abstinence will prove fruitful long-term. The goal, to reword, is promote shalom, through whatever avenue works for both you and your relationship with your beloved.

The Bubbe Speaks

I let it slip this week to one of my "families" here in Flatbush that I'm planning to ditch the Greater NYC area in the next several months to return to my native land. My declaration met with the expect New Yorker incredulity. I mean, who leaves NY, right?

Anyhow I had the pleasure of eating lunch at the said family's yesterday, and even more importantly, the opportunity to catch up with "Bubbe", the matriarch who has inspired quite a few posts. I just love her, and not only because she is a fellow Yekki. Well, okay, maybe that explains the meeting of the minds, but she is just a very wise old woman- and I mean that as the highest compliment. The topic inevitably turned to my planned relocation, and Bubbe weighed in with her two cents.

Basically, the gist of her comment is that I should stay in New York for the next year or so in order to find a shidduch. If you want to find a shidduch, New York is the place to be, and I should find a partner and then move. I explained to her that it was precisely because of the dating pool in New York that I felt I will need to search elsewhere. I've been thinking long and hard about what I want my life to be like, the one I want to share with any future anyone, if Hashem should be so kind as to eventually send such a person my way.

And I've realized a few things about what makes me happy. Now, obviously marriage isn't about happiness per se; it's about sharing your life with someone, about building and growing with someone. That said though, I want to try to get back to the things that ground me, because without that, I'm never going to be ready to start dating again. I need to get myself back to a happy and healthy self physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I truly believe that for me, that means leaving New York, and returning to Canada.

Problem is, Bubbe is a very wise lady. So now I'm thinking about what she said. Any thoughts, people?

The Lunch that Almost Wasn't

I was invited for lunch last Shabbos (aka Day 2 Shavuous) to a family I went to but once soon after arriving in Brooklyn. The reasons for my only going the one time were that 1) their lunches are a bit of a social scene, complete with many older singles, 2) I had already met and then subsequently married my DEH sooner after the single chow down, 3) they're located pretty much at the other end of Flatbush. Quite the schlepp any time that the weather isn't temperate, which as you all know means basically ALWAYS in New York.

Anyhow, one of my friends recently suggested that I should be socializing more, so I figured a good place to start was a lunch that would contain 50 people. Given that I like to refer to myself as an extroverted introvert, such lunches aren't generally my cuppah, but I decided that there's no time like the present to try to branch out, right?

The first snafu began when I arrived early. Lunch was called for 12:30, and I made it there by 12. I had been banking on someone being there within half an hour prior to the meal, since with such a large number of guests preparations would surely be underway by then. Alas, such was not the case. I knocked a few times, and then resigned myself to standing on the stairs (there was nowhere to sit, at least nowhere that I could sit without being unlady-like in my suit) and waiting for signs of life.

Just when I was about to give up and head home to eat a nice meal of matzah and cabbage, a neighbour very kindly came over and asked if I wanted to wait inside her house and/or have a drink. I will admit that she restored my faith in Flatbush, which had begun to really flounder with each long, hot minute that I was standing there waiting. I politely declined, and after she reiterated her offer a second time and departed, I reckoned it was time for one final knock before deciding what to do. This time, the hostess's mother swept open the door and ushered me in.

I was quite perturbed to see that the family had been home for quite a while, but had deliberately let me wait outside because they weren't ready yet for guests. Given that right inside the house they had a nice couch available, I found their decision quite rude, albeit understandable. I offered to finish setting the table (my favourite Shabbos activity), and that's when the circus began.

One by one men arrived and I was introduced to each very eagerly by the host. It wound up that the lunch was a bonafide singles event, in which the women were vastly outnumbered to the tune of 3 to 24. I was appalled. The lunch wound up being a very depressing affair, since the majority of the attendees were 1) regulars who knew each other and broke out into cliques, 2) insecure or rude, because most refrained from speaking to us women at all, 3) late 40s or older, and obviously very much stuck in their bachelor behaviour. Compounding the atmosphere was the choice by the host family to sit by themselves at the head and mainly ignore their guests. The end result was that I felt like they were offering a venue for people to socialize, not that I partook in a fun meal with a bunch of people- including the host family. The cherry on top was the joke that the host made when the meal was breaking up: that there was still time enough time left for us to book a hall for a June wedding.

There were many other troubling parts to the lunch, but I will spare you all the gory details. On the one hand, I understand that my hosts see themselves as offering a valuable service to older singles, and I certainly applaud their efforts. They are doing much more than most people, who love to say "Meretz Hashem by YOU" without taking action to help their well-wishes come to fruition. That said however, I went away with a sour taste in my mouth. But I felt that the experience was worthwhile, if for no other reason than I was reminded of an important lesson: Don't listen to well-meaning friends who give you advice, because in the end, you know yourself, and what's right for you, better than anyone else. Period.

Word!

Back when I lived on the West Coast, I had a friend, a real sweetheart of a guy. While he had been born Jewish, he had decided as an adult to turn his "spiritual" inclination to the Numerologists. Basically, the gist of that cult/belief system was that the numerical value related to an item was intrinsically connected to its spiritual destiny. In turn, he changed his name when he joined the "organization", the irony of which was that he wound up taking a biblical name. Strangely, I was actually the one who informed him of that fact.

Anyhow, we were once conversing, and he uttered a wonderful phrase: A word spoken can never be taken back. Now, we've all heard something similar, but that instance was the first time I heard it, and while I was certainly aware of the halachas of lashon hara, etc., it resonated with me. Not only does it cover the area of be careful in how you speak to others, it also expands to encompass how your thoughts are shaped by the words you say.

This evening, I was discussing my life, as one generally does when catching up with friends and family. Yet as I was talking, I remembered this instance with my West Coast friend, and it really struck me how the words we speak shape our reality. While we certainly all recognize this fundamental truth, it bears repeating: How we think about our lives is how we perceive our lives. And our choice of words simply feeds into that perception, and relays that perception to others. In short, the words we speak affect not only ourselves, but those who hear them, because it is through words that we fundamentally form relationships and connect with people. The words we speak consequently shape ourselves, our reality, and the reality of those nearest and dearest to us.

I think I'll try and keep that in the forefront of my mind for the time being. :)

Sheva Berachos

I have been so crazy busy with work this week that I literally did not exit the house for days at a time-- even to take out the garbage, which as you all know, if my "critical mass" point. Anyway, when I am in the house, I have my cell phone shut off for several reasons, not the least of which being that my lovely CPP (which shall remain nameless) is unable to provide me with sufficient coverage in my 70 sq meters of heaven, i.e. dropped call, dropped call, and dropped call. So, unless I am expecting someone to call me, I don't bother to check my messages.

Yesterday I got a call from my lawyer about the lawsuit, but she didn't leave a message or send me an email, so I figured I should check the cell phone. Sure enough, she had left a message there, and that's how stumbled upon the multiple messages left by my very-stressed-out Kallah friend (see Notes on a Wedding). Turned out there were going to be sheva berachos three hours later in Flatbush, and I had better hop to it. So hop to it I did, and practically ran my way over there. Listen, when you're Yekki, being late is tantamount to a cardinal sin.

Suffice it to say that while I may have arrived horrendously late by Yekkish standards (read 10 minutes), the Chattan and Kallah were on Sephardi time; the shindig got underway around 8:15 or so. I was sort of undressed, having forgotten that everything in Flatbush is an opportunity to be fancy; at my Sheva Berachos, people wore jeans! But, B'H', at least I had some make up and a sheitel on, not to mention a pretty necklace my husband bought me last year to mark the anniversary of the car accident- or specifically, our having pulled through it, with much gratitude to Hashem! The table were all beautifully set, the hosts' children were cute like anything, and the caterer very accommodating and cheerful.

I had arrived at the same time as another couple, and for the longest time it was us, a second couple who arrived about 20 minutes after us, and the host family. They seated myself and I staked out a seat. Noting the Chattan and Kallah's chairs, I decided to take an end seat at an adjacent table. The end result was that I was on a diagonal from the other guests, basically seating at the polar opposite end of the room. I entertained myself by speaking to the children, who were a hoot, and when the hostess came down, endured her awkward attempts to take my coat and chit chat me across the room to join the two couples. I politely sidestepped her "good" graces, retained my coat, and remained where I was.

There is nothing that I abhor more than polite chit chat, particularly because it is generally a thinly veiled attempt to be polite without any real interest in getting to know the other person. I prefer to be ignored and/or left alone to enduring the obligatory twittering over weather, schools, families in common and so forth. Yet, and perhaps I am being delusional, I do find myself be out-going. Rather my issue is that if I am going to converse, I want it to be with someone with whom I can hold an actual, friendly conversation. Divulging of intimate secrets is not required, simply a bit of warmth and good will. And, while I understand that chit chat is most often people's attempt to break the ice, the end result is typically that you exchange a few lines, smile a polite smile, and move on- a cold exchange indeed.

I was consequently most pleased when my table wound up consisting of the teenage girls and the hostess's mother. I have found, due to my preference for honesty, that I like the company of senior citizens and persons of school age, and I was not disappointed. The matriarch was a fascinating woman, and her grand-daughters and their friends were very warm and charming. When the Chattan and Kallah finally arrived, I was already having a grand time, which I subsequently punctuated with trips to the Kallah's table in order to dish a bit. All in all, it was a really nice time, as evidenced by the fact that it lasted much later than I expected, and despite my having a pile of work waiting for me at home, I didn't care. Then again, at such events, since kind attracts kind, chances are that you're going to enjoy the crowd.

The Chattan and Kallah are going out of town for Shabbos to have Sheva Berachos in the Chattan's hometown. I hope they enjoy themselves, and that when they return home and are finally able to enter into their peaceful life together, Hashem will only bestow blessing upon them.

Notes on a Wedding

I had the good fortune of seeing a dear friend of mine married off yesterday afternoon. I know her from back when I was single; she belonged to a crowd that I used to hang out with, and we spent many long hours in conversation. In short, I'm a big fan.

I wanted to record just two things that came to mind at the wedding, since I am officially at the point in my life where if I don't write something down, it's gone for-E-vah, as they say around these parts...

First of all, in true testimony to her endlessly giving nature, the kallah was only concerned with her guests: she worried about the hall, the caterer; she came down from the kallah chair to greet those who had difficulty walking; she fretted that people would be offended if she missed them during dancing, and consequently made a point of breaking out of the circle to dance where all of those who would not or could not participate were. I could only marvel at her tremendous generosity, that on "her night" she chose to make it everyone's night. It was a beautiful spectacle indeed, much like the kallah herself.

Next, it was amazing to see all that had changed in the few short years since I had seen everyone. People who were newlyweds when I last saw them were now parents a couple of times over, married women were divorced, parents were grandparents, singles were engaged. Life had moved on, and it was a bittersweet moment as I drank in all of the changes. One nice aspect of being back with everyone for an evening though was returning, albeit briefly, to the Me I was before I got married. I was free to be me, if you will, because they knew me from when it was just me, and there was something refreshing about seeing myself through their eyes for a little while. It was nice to get back in touch with my former, pre-accident self.

Anyhow, a tip of the hat to my dear friend and her Chosson. They should only live and be well, knowing only Hashem's abundant blessings, bli ayin hara. And, for those times when Hashem may throw a temporary curve ball, hopefully the wine glasses I got them will come in handy, LOL.

Mazal Tov

One of my very good friends just became a kallah!!! So take that, all of you who say that someone who has been divorced for a very long time won't end up getting remarried.

She is a smart cookie, not to mention has a big heart, so he is one lucky guy. And they are very cute together, B'H'. The chatunah is set for right after the chagim, so you know I'm counting the days.

Hm. Now what should I wear..? ;=)

Triangle of Kindness

I have been very busy the past few days, B'H', in preparation of starting a new job on Monday. That being said, here is a little thought of mine about this week's parshah (Ki Saitzai).

This parshash contains several references to marriage: the captured woman, acceptable converts from certain nations, gittim, and yibum. Each of these instances constitutes "unusual" circumstances; they are not commonplace unions, and involve a loss of comfort while carrying the risk of stigma, as underscored by the proximity to the various mitzvot in the parshah that deal with "forbidden mixtures. Yet even more interestingly, what does this proximity also underscore?

Elsewhere in the parshah, the prevailing theme is a desire to prevent unsavory middot- dishonesty (false weights/measures), greed (leaving yield to the poor and underprivileged), insensitivity (neglecting to consider someone else's safety, i.e. leaving a pit uncovered, a roof unfenced), and even downright evil (Amalek). The point therefore is that these marriages are ones that may seem to require less compassion on the part of the Jew, because the circumstances are abnormal. Why show compassion to someone who belonged to a nation we can war against, to a person from a nation we rightly feel negatively about, to a woman who is unable to remain with her husband because they become incompatible, to a woman who did not bear a child to her deceased husband? Isn't it only 'natural' to think of these individuals as lacking in some way and consequently warranting less favourable treatment?

The Torah answers No for exactly this reason. We should indeed overcome this inclination and remember that above all else, these marriages still require the one ingredient required of all marriages to succeed: compassion. By considering these persons as marriage partners then, we must strive to always demonstrate compassion towards them, for it is precisely this compassion that purifies the relationship and renders it a suitable abode for the Shechina. The parshah in turn underscores a primary trait that must exist in all marriages if they are to remain spiritually feasible.

Good Shabbos!

Ego

I recently was at a benefit, where I had the misfortune of witnessing a celebrity behaving badly. That incident got me started thinking again about love, specifically self-love as it is defined in the secular world versus according to yiddishkeit. In my mind, when someone exemplifies self-love as ego like this said celebrity, that self-love is counterproductive.

We often hear that in order to love someone else, we need to have self-love. But what is self-love? What does it mean to love ourselves sufficiently? I like to think that self-love is understanding that "I" have value because "I" was made in Hashem's image and infused with the ability to invoke positive change in the world through my relationship with Him, with people, and with the other aspects of Hashem's creation. That's why, for example, I love animals; they never fail to inspire awe in me because they are wondrous creations by Hashem.

So to a degree, self-love means self-respect. That is not the end all and be all of it though. After all, self-respect does not mean that we value ourselves above all else, i.e., we cannot give ourselves free rein. Rather, if self-love/self-respect means that we should feel regret when we do something wrong and should take steps to rectify the wrong-doing. We should forgive ourselves in order to move on and improve, to escape the self-defeating cycle brought on by endless guilt.

Now when we interact with others, we are experiencing love times X. In other words, either person could be having a good day or a bad day; that is certainly more frequently the case than both having the same type of day. So we need to have self-love to navigate the ups and downs that come with being in a relationship. That's where love versus in love plays a role.

When we are in love, we are often blind to the negative traits of the other person. Instead, we focus on all the marvelous qualities our intended possesses. We consequently tend to skew our perception of our partner and their actual personality. In contrast, when we develop love over time, we come to accurately perceive what is happening with our partner and are able to overlook and/or overcome, as required, the given bump in the road. Positive change is possible under such circumstances.

Finally, I have often stated that I don't care what other people think of me. If we go back to defining self-love, I believe that this statement summarizes the general concept of self-love. To reword, I love myself enough to do what I have to do without being swayed by what other people may think. If you think about it, this a basic tenet of yiddishkeit: we do what we have to, because it is what Hashem has commanded. By extension, when I say I don't care what other people think, what I mean is that I will do what I have to do. However, that does not mean that I do not contemplate the impact of my actions/words on others. If my planned course of action/speech will negatively impact someone else, then I will not act as planned. Thus, the statement I don't care what other people think of me means that I will do what I have to do if it is the right thing to do. It goes without saying that as a frum yid, the right thing to do equals following Hashem's laws. That includes avoiding maris ayin, or to put it differently, acting brazenly out of self-love.

Self-love then, is a combination of self-respect and awareness that while we may make mistakes, we can learn from them and improve, that we have innate merit and can do much with it to help others and the world at large- if we choose to stay on the Torahdik path. I really believe if we cultivate such self-love and have it operate as our guiding principle, we can bring Mosiach.

Shidduch Q&A

I had such a flattering thing happen to me the other day. A male friend of mine, who is single, sent me an email with a shidduch question. It was so nice that someone actually thought I could help, especially on that topic!

Anyway, I gave my two cents, but thought it would be a good idea if I posted the question here so that anyone with any thoughts could comment. (I of course got permission first from the said friend, and modified the question slightly to conserve confidentiality.) So, if anyone has any thoughts, or even just wants to tell me how "way" of base I was in my response, please post a comment.

Here is his question and my answer.

The Question

Imagine for a moment you know an observant guy who meets a Jewish woman who:

• Is very educated (works in university-level academia)
  
• Is a feminist and likes the idea of female Rabbis
  
• Grew up in a intellectual, anti-Jewish home
• Keeps some Shabbat things but with a focus on "spirituality" versus observance (E.g., attends services that involve drums and chanting)
  
• Is very spiritual

Now they really get along and even discuss the possibility of keeping Shabbat/Kosher. Is this a shidduch that the guy should pursue or is it just too much to ask for her to change to his observance level?

My Answer

Hey there! I appreciate that you ask for my opinion. But all I can offer you is a "it really depends" with the following "advice".

First, only you can find out whether she is sincerely ready to grow to the level of observance you would require. I know one woman very similar who remained spiritual versus observant and yet another who became a total frummie frumstein. I will also share that when I started dating, I was willing to consider someone less observant than myself but in the end, it always became an issue. We both know that people only change if they want to.

Secondly, what level of compromise can you see yourself tolerating before any resentment/ill will comes into play? If she remains spiritual, can you live with that? That's a reality you really need to consider. Also, what do you value more in a spouse? Is it more important to you that you get along right away or that you find someone who shares your core religious values but who you might need to coax out of her shell? If you answer the former, you might also want to determine how long you are willing to wait to see progress on the observance front and what you would do if you see no progress. Finally, and I hate to bring it up, but you should also determine what the impact could be on your son if he is exposed to conflicting levels of observance.

I don't know if this at all helps you; they're just my personal thoughts about the "issue". It really is up to you to decide. Feel free to contact me if you want to discuss the matter further.

Take care!

The Virgin, The Widow, but not the Gerusha

There has been much controversy over the years as Kohanim marry later in life, and consequently encounter a dearth of permissible marriage partners. Let's face it: if you had to wait until your thirties to marry, the majority of "singles" are in fact divorcees. Given this reality, many Kohanim resort to "giving up" the kehuna in order to marry women who are ineligible to Kohanim for marriage.

I use this controversy as a starting point for discussing Parshah Emor, because much of the talk surrounding this passuk in that parshah is about the psychological reasons why Kohanim cannot marry a gerusha. However, I humbly suggest that this prevailing focus is perhaps misplaced. Certainly, most men in general are hesitant to contemplate dating the gerusha, and the reasons for this are psychological. However, I think that it sells Kohanim short to speculate that they would be preoccupied with the status of their wife if she was a gerusha; if the Kohen exhibits a level of consideration for his fellow yid, such "judgmental" behaviour is incongruous with the true nature of a Kohen. Indeed, if the issue is that their wife has a "history", why would the same hesitation be absent in the case of the widow?

That question, I believe, touches upon the true reason for why a Kohen is unable to marry a gerusha. If we look at what precedes the list of eligible versus ineligible partners in the parshah, we note that the parshah starts with the description of how the Kohen who is metamay from the passing of his closest relatives can eat first bread after one week and mikvah before moving on on the eighth day to korbanos.

Why is the point underlying this description? The Kohen has had to separate himself from his priestly duties, and in the timeframe between mikvah and resuming his duties in the Beit Hamigdash, he can eat bread. He has been, in other words, on a lower level spiritually, and prior to returning to his full spiritual level as exemplified by korbanos, he partakes of bread. However, during his week of separation from service, the Kohen also ate bread. Thus, this emphasizes the three spiritual levels that the Kohen experiences under these unfortunate circumstances. This second bread, to rephrase, emphasizes the fact that this second bread is a segue between the tumah of his relative's passing and his resumption of his temple duties.

This juxtaposition of the food consumed by the Kohen and the women that a Kohen can marry accentuates that the reason for the gerusha being unsuitable for a Kohen is predominantly spiritual. In brief, a Kohen personifies ahavah, and his duties rely upon his always evidencing a phenomenal degree of love for his brethren. A virgin obviously represents a clean slate, someone that the Kohen can have a fresh start in his journey into married life. Such a connection is conducive to the Kohen and his spouse developing a pure love for each other. A widow, while not physically pure, represents devotion, in that she still maintains positive feelings for her prior spouse; their separation was physical, and she has only fond memories of this prior partner. Such a connection is similarly rooted in ahavah, and therefore renders the widow suitable for marriage to the Kohen.

But the gerusha, unfortunately, will always have a tiny smudge, albeit possibly imperceptible even to her, on her emotionally with regards to her previous relationship. No matter how amicable her divorce, the gerusha became separated from her previous spouse because of their incompatibility. By extension, even when the warmest feelings still remain, a disconnect between the two prior spouses is apparent due to this incompatibility. And, on a spiritual level, a divorce is precisely the severing of two neshamas that were united.

It is this severing, both emotional and spiritual, that is spiritually damaging to the Kohen. The Kohen cannot be with a woman who has encountered this negative separation, since the Kohen must always bridge the gap between people. To be spiritually connected to animosity, even minutely, is inappropriate for the Kohen.

Thus, this parshah underscores not only the sad state of affairs for Kohanim in terms of finding a suitable partner, but also the tragic spiritual blemish that divorce places on people. With Hashem's help, this parshah should act as a cautionary reminder and prevent us from becoming blase about the ever-increasing number of divorced individuals in our communities.

Chassidishe Dating- A Responsa

I was very happy to receive the comment about Chassidishe dating for my last post; it raised a point that I now feel prompted to comment upon.

Most shidduchim are made in attempt to maximize success. To this end, couples are often assembled based on the boy and girl:

• Sharing nusach and/or hashkafah
• Being from a family that knows or knows of the other family

Such criteria results in certain families being deemed "good families", i.e. families whose children would be considered suitable for marriage. While I acquiesce that this criteria can increase the probability that the given children share common ground upon which to build a life together, I tend to also recognize that other factors play into whether or not a marriage is ultimately successful.

When I stated in my last post that "you knew your spouse very well before marriage", I was being extreme to make a point. However, my tactic appears to have backfired and the point was missed, for which I apologize. So, let me rephrase: while we attempt to minimize the risk involved in choosing a shidduch, all of us take a leap of faith when we decide to get married. We assume, based on either the agreed-upon criteria for compatibility (see above) or for any other number of reasons that draw us to the other person (they seem happy/ stable/giving/intelligent/ fun-loving, etc.) that they will be a good match for us. And really, that's all we can do: first form an opinion of the person and then make that critical decision. Because, irregardless of the length of time that you date and/or of how well you may know a given family and its values, you can never truly predict what the dynamic will be between two people once they are married. So you just do your best to garner a positive outcome and go from there.

I know couples with similar backgrounds who both did and did not work out, as well as couples with disparate backgrounds who are, B'H', happily married. I knew my second husband for three weeks before we got engaged; he proposed on our 10th date. This dating pattern was in contrast to my first husband, who I knew for several months. (I was formally introduced to my first husband by a shadchan at the shul we both attended , but he and I were both initially uninterested in each other. Suffice it to say that our view of each other changed.) My first husband and I had very different upbringings, but a similar mindset; my current husband and I have many cultural differences, but similar upbringings. So I have followed dissimilar paths to marriage, both in terms of length and "type" of partner. And while you could perhaps make the case that I knew my first husband better than my second before marriage, due the length of time that we took to get to know each other, time does not, in my experience, equal quality or insight. Although time did help to grow the bond between my first husband and myself, time did not leave me any better informed about how he would be in marriage. Because such insight about a person's ability to be married comes only after marriage.

And so it would seem, as I mentioned last night, that the mazel rests not in how long or even how well a couple knows each other; as the adage goes, we can never truly know someone until we live with them. Instead, it is how well each member of the couple is prepared to navigate differences and differing expectations post-marriage, and how adept they are at compromising that determines the final outcome. How well, in other words, are the boy and girl prepared for the responsibilities of marriage?

I have very personally experienced the havoc that divorce wreaks on individuals, their families, and the community. It is a tragedy all around- physically, emotionally, spiritually, and socially. I would never wish the experience on anyone. And so I write these posts in the hope that somehow, some way, by sharing my little thoughts I may help even one yid find and retain a successful marriage.

Hashem should help us so that we should all only know Shalom Bayis always.

Why are you dating?

Let's face it: New York is indisputably the largest market for Jewish singles. Period. That market breaks down, as does everything else here, into different flavours. The Upper West Side, the KGH singles, BP/Williamsburg, Flatbush, and of course, Passaic girls. To name but a few.

However, regardless of location, I have personally met scores of men and women who have evidenced a shared, blatant resistance to marrying. Blame it on the enormous pressure to marry, blame it on the seemingly endless pool of potential partners, blame it on the increasing numbers of divorced singles, or simply blame it on the burnout that accompanies the process of meeting people, meeting people yet not meeting "The One". But in New York, as elsewhere, there is a sizable percentage of singles who give ardent lip service to having dated nothing but a succession of dogs or superior divas during their desperate, valiant attempt to find someone. Which begs the question: Why are you dating?

I am probably in the minority, but I do believe that there is a very small percentage of people who perhaps should not marry; they simply do not possess and, for various reasons are incapable of learning, the skills that make a productive marriage. Most singles though do not fall in to this category. Why then, are there so many singles who cannot find someone suitable to share their lives with?

Many years ago, single and newly immigrated to this country, I was working out one afternoon next to an older woman who struck up a conversation with me. She proceeded to bemoan her history of dating louses, and listed her lengthy criteria for potential dates- tall, dark, handsome (and several other physical descriptions that I will not enumerate here), funny, rich, etc. To which I mentally responded, "But what do you have to offer"?

B'H', we all have something to offer a potential spouse, all have good qualities...but also shortcomings. I am painfully aware of my shortcomings, and see them as primary fodder for personal refinement. Regardless, while single I had the self-awareness to realize my strengths and weaknesses, and devoted mental energy to determining a few key qualities that my future mate should possess in order to complement me and push me to improve myself. By finding someone who could complement me, and vice versa, I figured we might have a chance of coming together and building a solid, productive future.

Many of us are either unable to identify or simply too afraid to identify what we really need. By afraid, I mean we would have to take stock of ourselves, which is an uncomfortable process, to say the least. Instead, we focus on what we want, which 99% of the time is the antithesis to what we need. The end result is frustration, because we do not find what deep down we know is what what we should want. Our shortcomings, in other words, write our laundry list of expectations for a potential shidduch when, if we focussed on one or two middot and determined how far we're willing to compromise in terms of hashkafah, we might actually find a pool of acceptable shidduchim.

There is nothing wrong with dating to date, if you:

1. do so in order to determine what you need, i.e. create your list of desirable middot, etc.
2. acknowledge that you are doing so to suitors so that they are not mislead

But please, be fair to everyone, yourself included, and admit whether you truly want to be married or not. Many people are mistrustful, having had bad experiences in the past, and shy away from taking another chance at happiness. If you fall into this group, then work on yourself so that you can move on. Because, like it or not, as a frum Jew, Hashem wants us to marry. The reasons for this are manifold, but it is important to remember that marriage offers the opportunity for tremendous spiritual and personal growth. It's difficult, and challenging, and yes, painful sometimes. But, and this is a big but, there is no justification for viewing marriage as a burdensome obligation that is optional. Such a viewpoint stems, to say it plainly, from a selfishness that runs counter to the essence of frumkeit.

So work on yourself. Learn to be less self-centred. Learn to contemplate the positives of opening yourself up to another person and putting them first. Because, as Hashem's people, we shouldn't live our lives any other way.

May all the singles currently seeking shidduchim find their bashert and their way to chuppah immediately.