Old/New World Discourse: The Challot and the Kallot

After three weary nights of trying to help with shidduchim, I opted for a morning off.  Rather than bid my family adieu for the day and hide in the sanctum of my office, I asked Computer Cowboy if he minded my taking his place in driving the kids to school. My man was good with the plan as he was overworked; he nearly flew to the nearest bus which would return him to his source code. For my part, I marshaled the gathering of lunches, of books, and of shoes.

Thereafter, the children and I left only ten minutes off schedule. I deposited only one of them at the wrong corner (Missy Oldest got to walk a few extra blocks). My mistakes could be contributed to the fact that my head was still whirling with thoughts about the matches I had tried to aid the night before.

I am not a professional shadchun. I am not a rabbi, a therapist, or a lawyer. I am a people person. I am trained to teach human communication and to express myself about a few related items. Nonetheless, both here, in the Old World, and there, in the New World, I was approached by friends to join circles of women who try to help other Jews find spouses.

Whereas, during our postcollege days, Computer Cowboy and I danced at the weddings of friends I matched up, we have danced at far fewer such events in our middle years. In fairness, as undergraduates, we were young and the brides and grooms I connected were young. Today, the brides and grooms I try to unite range, typically, from thirties to sixties. Likewise, I'm somewhere in that age bracket.

Regardless, as compensation for the emotional gymnastics I had performed in the name of a mitzvah (most seekers of mates need reassurance, reframing, and above all, a listening ear), I planned to drive to a special, distant bakery for my family's weekly challah; I find it nurturing to ride around with open windows in the sweet Jerusalem sunshine.

When I arrived at the bakery, the mini pitas, which my children adore, the wheat-free cookies, which my children need, and the too-good-not-to-buy-at-least-one parve cakes, over which my children would later argue, were ready. Yet, the challot were still baking.

Since I had already indulged myself with my ride to the bakery, and since I had other tasks I could complete in that outlying part of town, I paid for my selections, promised to return in an hour and went on my way. I appreciate that we don't always get what we want when we want it. Sometimes we get something better. Always, we have to wait for Hashem's sanction.

Analogously, one of the people I was trying to set up was rather receptive to all sorts of demographic possibilities. . .that is, until I called her back to talk to her about a man I had formerly interrogated. Suddenly, this woman needed to set limits on categories about which she had expressed openness just an hour or so before.

In the same way, there was a fellow, whom I was trying to put together with a lady, whose stats matched his stats nicely. It didn't hurt my presentation of her case that while I was quizzed that lady I had developed a fondness for her.

Unfortunately, the fellow's contact person turned out to be his protective mother. Suffice it to say that several phone calls later, it was the mother, not the perspective groom, who called to exclaim that there would be no initial date.

Such happenstances are, unfortunately, typical in the realm of shidduchim. I remember, for example, from my time in the States, a young man with whom I was trying to work. Hashem Put into my head a possible bride for young man and Hashem Made their first date successful.

Nevertheless, the young man refused to consider a second date with that possible bride. After much of my wheedling, the young man admitted that the possible bride was "not pretty enough" for him.  To no avail, I attempted to broaden his perspective (i.e. what was he going to look like in five or ten years), I told him off, and dropped him from my roster.  Months later, I ran into him and his new wife. Objectively speaking, the woman whom the young man rejected was far more attractive than the one he married. Go figure.

Before you say I am crass and otherwise without any concept of the pain involved in seeking a mate, consider the following. My husband and my children have witnessed the hours of tears I've cried here, and in the New World, over shidduchim. Moreso, they have witnessed the hours of prayers I've spoken here, and in the New World, on behalf of the people I try to help. Whereas my matchmaking goings-on are totally private, my reaction to those destinies, are often played out in the public space of my family's salon since I like hugs when I am feeling discouraged.

Sure, I've been called on to smooth away the prewedding jitters of folks of both genders. Sure, my husband and I have had the brachah to attend weddings of never-before-married people in their forties or fifties. Sure, my entire family has aided me in making sheva brachot for some of the people I've merited to help. Sure, we've been invited to subsequent Brit Milot. Baruch Hashem for all of those facts!

Still, in spite of all the sma'achot, which my family and I have been honored to attend because of my matchmaking work, such celebrations do nothing to alleviate the anguish of each and every person who remains unmarried. It's horrible to know shattered dreams.

I'm not fooling myself; The Boss determines couples. Thus, I cry and pray.

At the most recent of shidduch circles, we women discussed involving our husbands and our rabbanim in our efforts. We need their input not so much for questions of Halacha (it's a given that we seek Torah sources for direction), but for the purposes of broadening our access to unmarrieds. The couplehood crisis affects Jews of all stripes, of all ages and of both genders. We need the reliable men in our lives to help us connect to more people.

Accordingly, the solution to the problem of lonely Jews can be found in the achdut of Klal Yisrael. More specifically, the person who didn't work out for your date might be perfect for your roommate, for your brother, for your learning partner, or for your subordinate. The clerk in the grocery store needs a husband as much as does the president of the bank. At the end of the day, most people crave companionship. Most people want to be in a committed relationship.

If you are sought by a single that needs to unburden, listen! While you do not have to fix anything, you could do a great service simply by beholding their circumstances.

More broadly, as a community, we are often quick to network for jobs and for other manners of money. It's more than timely that, as a community, we also network on behalf of marriages and on behalf of other matters related to the continuity of our people.

I completed my errands in that faraway part of Jerusalem, even finding the time to purchase the chumetz-based ketchup adored by Missy Youngest. I returned to the bakery. Not only were my challot just coming out of the oven (the car smelled soooo good en route home), but almost every member of the bakery staff greeted my return warmly.

True, I had had to wait and I had had to decide whether or not I was willing to change my schedule. Those steps were my histadlut. Similarly, it is the case that folk in the shidduch parsha have work that belongs to them.

I felt better about my choice when the bakery staff cheered my return. Let's help singles feel better about their efforts by encouraging them.
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Response to Readers:

Sylvia in Australia, you are a faithful reader, for which I am grateful. I hope that you and your friends continue to feel comfortable writing in. Best Wishes to you!