“Your daughters will thank you for allowing them to have this much-needed time without the pressure to start shidduchim”

Stepping Aside for Our Sisters [Counterpoint / Issue 1057]

As a group of seminary girls, we’d like to give a big thank you to Mishpacha for so beautifully presenting different angles of the multifaceted, weighty issue that’s been pressing on our minds in such a palpable way.

We were discussing this over Pesach, and while we recognize the importance and benefit of this initiative, as well as the  necessity of following the psak of the gedolim, some of us raised some concerns. One girl raised the theoretical scenario of turning down a shidduch suggestion with a top boy, only to see him be snatched away by a girl just a year older.

Continuing our talk, we then recalled the vatranus of our matriarch, Rochel Imenu, who was willing to give up her husband, even facing the seeming fate of marrying a rasha, to save her sister from hurt. We too, we resolved, can rise to the occasion and draw on the vatranus in our DNA to save our sisters from pain.

And maybe emulating Rochel Imenu will be the zechus we need to finally bring Mashiach.

As an aside, we were so inspired by Esther Kurtz’s Calligraphy story where the protagonist, a seminary girl, learned mussar with her father. We thought this was a great idea, even for after seminary, and one way to strengthen our ruchniyus during our single years (which would also address the concern of girls experiencing a spiritual decline in their single years).

Thinking Seminary Girls

Give Girls Time [Counterpoint / Issue 1057]

As someone who got married at 19 to the first boy she dated, I’d like to offer a perspective on this new shidduch initiative from someone who supposedly avoided this crisis.

The concept of having girls straight out of seminary wait until Shavuos to start dating is so beneficial I can’t imagine anyone would be against it! It allows young women to mature, settle down, and have time to prepare for and think about marriage. This so called “in-between time” gives girls the chance to ground themselves, acclimate to life after seminary (which is very difficult, I might add), take on real responsibilities, find out who they really are, foster friendships, and get their life on track.

These girls are young, barely out of high school. They just got back from an overwhelming (albeit hopefully wonderful) year in seminary and never really experienced life as an adult. Baruch Hashem, I’m happily married and am so grateful that I found my bashert, but shanah rishonah was hard, and it was due mostly to the fact that I was so young. I felt (and still feel!) that I was missing out on such an important stage of life but also never dared to complain because I was just told to thank my lucky stars that I wasn’t an older single.

Girls who get married around the same time I did often lose their closest friends, as they’re married with many responsibilities while most of their friends are single. They’re often the odd one out and are subject to their friends’ jealousy. Even the most mature, responsible and capable girls are often not really prepared for navigating the dating process and what being a wife really means. They lose out on such a vital time by being pushed to get married so young. Trust me, your daughters will thank you for allowing them to have this much-needed time without the pressure to start shidduchim.

A.R.

Lakewood, NJ

Baffled at the Bashers [Counterpoint / Issue 1057]

Like everyone else, I’ve been following the articles on the shidduch crisis, and as a 26-year-old woman still in shidduchim, I wanted to add my two cents.

I’m honestly baffled at the response. The gedolim got together to combat one of our biggest sources of pain, and instead of being grateful, people have the nerve to tell the gedolei Yisrael that they don’t have enough bitachon or anivus?

If anyone should be upset, it’s those in my position. According to the article, our time has passed and our basherts have been taken by others. But actually, all I’m seeing is the rabbanim feeling my pain and it’s heartwarming. As women, we don’t have as much access to rabbanim, and I’ve never felt this connected before. This has been so beautiful to read about. The negative response, however, has been less heartwarming. If we were sure that this initiative would bring Mashiach, would you all agree then? Because for the women that this will help, you will have brought their geulah.

To all the worried mothers out there who are afraid to let their girls wait to start dating, do you know that you’ll hear all the time about boys who haven’t starting dating? Do you know why they can afford to wait? Because they aren’t desperate or afraid. If this initiative works, women could be just as calm. (And maybe that could help the rising number of divorces as well; less pressure and fear will lead to less marrying someone else’s bashert and maybe less divorce.)

To all the people telling us we have unrealistic expectations: you are clearly not in shidduchim. There are no dates, and therefore no one to put these expectations on. I’ve been dating for 6 years and have only gone out with seven guys. Seven!

The gedolim have spoken and it is up to us to listen. Obviously, that’s easy for me to say as this will not really affect me, but as someone who’s been through all of this, I’m begging you to listen. This system is so demoralizing; if other women don’t have to go through it, they shouldn’t.

Name Withheld

Be a Part of the Solution [Counterpoint / Issue 1057]

I’m responding to the skeptics of the plan laid out in detail to resolve the shidduch crisis, including those who are worried about pushing off their daughter’s entrance to the market for potentially no gain.

We have a problem, and the solution proposed requires cooperation and trust. You (parents of girls) are being asked to take a risk, and trust that everyone else will take the risk, too. But what if other parents “defect” and start their daughters off on the old schedule while you hold your daughter back? It’s scary.

But there is something you can do to increase the likelihood of this working, and it relies on the fact that you are also, most likely, the parents of boys:

1. You can message every shadchan who serves your community and let them know that you intend to follow this new system, and that you won’t let your boys meet anyone suggested by a shadchan who facilitates the entrance of girls to the market ahead of schedule.
2. Call up all of your sons’ yeshivos and demand that they publicly announce ASAP that they will be joining and enforcing the new system.

Making a major change like this requires momentum and positive energy. Find a way to hop on the train instead of sitting on the sidelines enumerating all the ways it won’t work or isn’t good enough, and I think you’ll be surprised at how fast that positive energy and momentum spreads.

Sholom Nemanow

Crown Heights

Singles’ Pain Is Real [Counterpoint / Issue 1057]

The other day, as I walked out of the grocery store, I saw someone I knew pushing her baby. The sight pierced through me — it hurt so deeply that I had to fight back tears as I hurried to my car. Once inside, I rested my head on the steering wheel, allowing my mind to drift back to my childhood.

I was fortunate to have grown up in a happy, loving home. I had wonderful parents and great friends. While my childhood had its ups and downs, they were normal challenges, nothing exceptional. Growing up, I always dreamed about marriage and raising a family of my own. I imagined what kind of parent I would be, how I’d give my children everything I possibly could, nurturing them and building a deep, lasting bond.

But as the saying goes, “Man plans, and G-d laughs.”

Finding the right partner took longer than I anticipated, but eventually, it happened. Filled with hope, I eagerly looked forward to starting a family and creating a joyful home. Then, infertility struck — a struggle I never imagined facing. The anguish, fear, and uncertainty are indescribable. The pain is constant, sharp, and deeply personal. It comes with every Yom Tov, every celebration, and even everyday errands. It stings when I see younger people effortlessly moving forward, building families of their own, while I remain stuck in this endless waiting. All I want is one child — just one. Is that truly too much to ask for?

In the midst of my own pain, however, I came to a realization: The struggle faced by singles is perhaps even harder. The uncertainty and longing for companionship can be overwhelming. Singles also experience deep hurt, the quiet ache of loneliness, and the constant fear of the unknown. Yom Tov, Shabbos, simchahs — these moments that should bring joy often bring tremendous pain instead.

Yet, there is one critical difference. When my day is particularly tough, I have a partner to turn to for comfort, support, and solace. Singles often have no one at the end of a difficult day.

Now, when I see older singles, I see heroes. I see people who wake up each day, courageously face life’s punches, and carry on despite the heavy burden of loneliness. They inspire me deeply. Their ability to remain productive, strong, and hopeful is truly remarkable.

I feel strongly that as a community, we expect too much from singles. As someone who is childless, I know the sharpness of life’s pains, and even I cannot fully grasp the magnitude of their struggle. We need to stop placing unrealistic expectations on singles, stop judging their lives, and allow them to simply be themselves, with empathy and understanding. They are heroes — and they deserve our compassion, respect, and support.

The community has many organizations supporting childless couples both financially and emotionally, yet there are very few resources available for singles. Perhaps it’s time we come together and establish a support group specifically for singles — they too deserve our care and support.

Someone Waiting for Her Own Miracle

Chuppah-Bound at Eighteen [No Excuses / Issue 1057]

Your Pesach feature on Rav Shlomo Wolbe reminded me of a meeting I had with the great mussar teacher in Jerusalem. When my twin yeshivah bochurim turned 18, I was taken aback when they presented an atypical birthday request: They wanted to begin the shidduch process.

I tried to discourage them, but they maintained that “ben shemoneh esreh l’chuppah” is a directive of Chazal that should not be cavalierly dismissed. Moreover, they underscored, the heads of their yeshivah — all talmidei chachamim — supported them.

Eventually, I was persuaded to present a sh’eilah to a rav of my choice and decided to approach Rav Shlomo Wolbe. We met with the gadol in the minuscule living room of his small apartment in Givat Shaul in Jerusalem, and I told him my sons wanted to begin to begin shidduchim in accordance with the Mishnah in Avos.

“Yes,” Rav Wolbe responded. Thinking that the gadol had not heard me, I repeated the question.

“Yes,” Rav Wolbe repeated.

Concerned that once again the aging rabbi had not heard me clearly, I repeated the question, making sure that I spoke loudly and clearly.

“Yes!” Rav Wolbe emphatically replied a third time, concurring with my sons. The Rav then respectfully rose, indicating that the meeting was concluded.

The young men entered shidduchim at 18 and both married shortly after their 19th birthdays.  They are today, baruch Hashem, both parents of large families and grandparents of two growing flocks of grandchildren.

Name Withheld

Eruv Endeavors [Carry On / Issue 1057]

As usual, the Pesach edition of Mishpacha and its companion publications provided interesting and informative reading. Yosef Herz’s article “Carry On” regarding the challenges of building and maintaining an eiruv was particularly well received. Prior to our aliyah, my wife and I lived in East Northport, Suffolk County, New York, a community that has had an eiruv for nearly 30 years. Our frum community there (we still consider ourselves members and maintain our ties) is a minority within the minority general Jewish community, the existence and possibility of which is, shall we say, still not adequately internalized by many in the well-known established frum Jewish communities.

Having actively served on the eiruv committee of our shul there, I (and the other current and former committee members) can readily relate to the adventures of Rabbis Paretzky and Gore as described in the article. A special challenge with the East Northport eiruv is the various small cemeteries, some dating back to colonial times, that need to be excluded from the eiruv area.

There were a few times when I heard unenthusiastic comments from members of the gentile community; in such instances I pointed out that our eiruv imposed far less upon the community than the routing of traffic one way on Cheshire Place to accommodate the St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church’s Sunday services, and that our eiruv is arguably less conspicuous than some nearby thoroughfares with names such as "Church Street" or "Cenacle Road." I do not know whether such facts were convincing, but am grateful that none of the opposition to our eiruv deteriorated to litigation in the courts.

I know that other members of the East Northport community are also convinced that something more than random happenstance is behind the article’s appearance during the shloshim of Rabbi Chaim Bausk z"l, who defied the naysayers and singlehandedly built the East Northport frum Jewish community. He understood the value of having a kosher eiruv and was its guiding hand (but his life of propagating Torah observance is the stuff of a separate article, if not an entire book).

KHR

Apples and Oranges [Inbox / Issue 1056]

In response to the reader who can’t understand the need for the new shidduch initiative, and referenced the way shidduchim work in the chassidish system to bolster her point: You’re comparing apples and oranges. The entire system is different — from the dating process to expectations around learning versus working. You can’t change just one factor (“boys should get married at 19 or 20”) and expect it to work seamlessly in a completely different framework.

You write, “It can’t be that hard to have the roshei yeshivah insist the boys start dating at twenty.” In fact, when this idea was brought up several years ago, many roshei yeshivah actually felt the opposite. They made a deliberate decision that it was better for boys to have those extra years dedicated to learning, and they encouraged them not to start dating earlier.

More broadly, I’d like to comment on the idea of girls waiting a year or two before starting shidduchim. I’m not weighing in on whether it will resolve “the shidduch crisis,” but I support it for a different reason.

In our current system, girls feel pressure from the minute they return from seminary to get married. In addition, it has become the norm that girls will support their husbands in learning. (Don’t get me wrong — this is a beautiful value, and something I personally do! But let’s acknowledge that it’s not historically “normal.” It’s relatively recent and deserves to be recognized and appreciated for what it is.)

Our girls rarely get time to pause and figure out who they are. They’re expected to immediately become employees, wives, and then mothers. A girl who has a year or two without pressure — to focus on her degree, her career, or simply on herself — is in a much healthier position to build a relationship and marriage.

Closeness begins with the self. When a person learns to be vulnerable and connected with herself, she can then develop a relationship with Hashem. And only after those two foundations are built can she fully connect with another person in the deep and holy way the Torah envisions for marriage.

In today’s very linear, masculine-structured world, girls go from school straight into work or college, and then straight into marriage. It’s all goal-driven. But how are they suddenly supposed to become feminine, receptive wives — women who are attuned to their families, who build homes and ultimately bring the Geulah — if they haven’t even had time to know themselves?

We talk a lot about “maturity,” but often only on a surface level. Just because a girl appears capable and “geshikt” doesn’t mean she has done the inner work necessary to form the most vulnerable, intimate relationship of her life.

This is a much broader conversation, and I could elaborate for pages. But I want to leave readers with this thought: Giving girls some extra time — without pressure — would not only improve financial stability in marriage (and the parents who support these couples — both pieces a discussion for another time!), but more importantly, it would create healthier individuals, and ultimately, stronger, deeper, and more enduring marriages.

Name Withheld

Overlooked [No Pity, No Pedestal / Issue 1056]

It was with great appreciation that I read about the plight of an orphan. No one wants to be pitied or placed on a pedestal because of his or her situation. The inside information, tips, and feelings that were shared were eye-opening and hopefully will create change.

The article also caused me to think about another segment of children in Klal Yisrael who may suffer just as much, if not more. They are the children of parents who were unable to parent for whatever reason — children of emotionally absent or abusive parents.

Children like us face so much judgment. There’s the unsaid sentiment of “just move on” when we get triggered as adults. Or the helpful, “It’s better than what you have now,” when being offered a shidduch suggestion that doesn’t fit.

Please, try being in my shoes for even just one moment, and then I give you permission to comment. Yes, I am from a super dysfunctional family unit. See if you can do a better job than me navigating a life on your own, with little or no support from peers, neighbors, community, or mentors.

I am used to pain and loneliness. It is a way of life for me. What would support look like? Having someone reach out with warmth on a consistent basis. Perhaps, dear reader, before judging someone like me, you can take a moment to think about what you can do to take away a bit of my pain by reaching out.

I would be very interested in seeing a feature article for children of this sort of population.

Your Fellow Jew

More on Matzah [Guestlines / Issue 1055]

I read the article about machine matzah by Rabbi Dovid Gernetz with true interest, and would like to add a few points.

(Disclosure: It is the minhag in my family, as in most Western Ashkenaz families, to use only machine matzos.)

First the author writes, and I quote, “According to halachah (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim, siman 460) , the matzah must be made l’sheim mitzvah.” This is not a correct understanding of the quoted halachah.

Matzos need a shemirah and there must be kavanah in the shemirah of matzos, but they do not need to be made l’sheim mitzvah. All the Shulchan Aruch writes there in siman 460 is that you cannot have a goy or a cheresh shoteh v’koton make your matzos. The reason is (as explained there in the Mishnah Berurah) is the lack of shemirah because their daas cancels out the daas of the overseeing adult Yehudi. The Chida writes that matzos can be made by a monkey. The whole discussion from Chullin then is irrelevant in this light.

The idea of the matzos being made lishmah is introduced by Rav Shlomo Kluger, one of the main opponents of machine matzos, as mentioned in the article. The argument from shechitah and tzitzis is really just to refute Rav Shlomo Kluger.

Second, there seems to be a mistake in the description of the timing of the matzah baking process. The 18-minute countdown ends with the matzos entering the oven, and the time in the oven is not included, as is alluded to in the article.

Third, although space was obviously a constraint and the author had to pick which points to mention and which to omit, I do think the following details are noteworthy. As the Ksav Sofer writes in a teshuvah, he did not want to take a stand on the matter, but circumstances forced him to. He refers to the abysmal level of kashrus of the existing hand matzos due to a labor shortage. It is clear from reading the history of this controversy that there were places that employed non-Jews to work in the production of matzos. In other places there are reports of exploitation of the labor force to a level that compromised the kashrus. Workers were required to work extremely long hours on their feet for very little pay. Even if they were motivated to put in their best effort, they often were so physically exhausted that it compromised the kashrus.

Last, there was a line in the article that read as such: “However, many chassidic dynasties have remained faithful to their mesorah of eating exclusively hand matzah.” This is clearly due to a stand taken by the Divrei Chaim of Sanz to oppose machine matzos for a “hidden reason.” Such a stand cannot be refuted because we don’t know what the reason is.

It is clear that today both hand and machine matzos are way better than they were 100 years ago. The advent of the machine matzah allowed the quality of the hand matzos to improve because the demand for hand matzos dropped, allowing for better supervision and work conditions.

Thank you, Rabbi Gernetz, for your informative article.

Meshullam Schoemann

RBS

The Delay Was Worth It [Impressions / Issue 1055]

I was super thrilled to read the backstory to The Last Slave, Y. Kormonick’s unbelievably, incredibly brilliant book. I randomly took it out of my sister’s library one Shabbos afternoon and read it straight from when I got the kids to bed until 6.30am — on a straight-backed kitchen chair at the kitchen table. I couldn’t move or breathe for all that time! And yes, I checked every footnote and was astounded. When I got into bed at seven, just as my husband was getting up, I said to him, “We have our Leil HaSeder all wrong! I just read this crazy book….” (This was in Iyar, by the way)

So Mrs. Komornick, every month and year’s delay was worth the masterpiece you turned out in the end. It is a book I have recommended to every breathing soul since.

Can’t wait for more!

M. Kepler

Beit Shemesh

Single Doesn’t Equal Nebach [Sea Change / Issue 1054]

I read the recent “shidduch crisis” article entitled Sea Change, and wanted to offer a few thoughts. I think that it is wonderful, of course, that everyone works hard and wants to solve the problem. I understand it well as I, myself, was an older single who did not get married until my mid-forties.

Perhaps, however, what bothered me more than not being married was the thought of being viewed by others as a nebach. Our frum world is very family oriented, and rightly so. However, this often results in those who are not married immediately being made to feel as “less than.” I remember meeting with a shadchan when I was in my twenties. At the time I had two other siblings also in shidduchim. Upon hearing this, the shadchan remarked, “Your poor parents.” While that sentiment might have been well intentioned, it left me feeling bad about myself.

As an older single, I was accomplished in many ways. I earned a master’s degree, had a professional career, was very involved in a number of chesed organizations, and had many different opportunities that would not have happened if I had married young. I actually believe that many of my experiences over years of singlehood helped me develop life and relationships skills that benefited me over the years and in my marriage. Yet, I definitely experienced numerous occasions of being treated differently than others my age due to my single status.

I think that one thing that could benefit our community is destigmatizing those who are not married at the age of twenty. Feeling that one is “less than” if not married immediately after seminary negates so many of the wonderful contributions that all of these adults make to their families and their communities. It sometimes also leads to feelings of depression as one wonders what may be wrong with them, when in fact, there is nothing wrong. Hashem’s plan may not be for every woman to be married by twenty. Adjusting expectations that everyone needs to get married very young may make for a happier and more emotionally healthy scenario.

Anonymous

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1058)