It was the perfect way to cut wedding expenses — but it came with a price 

Gershon: I understand your community standards, but you’ve put me in an impossible position

Rabbi Goldblum: I know you want to do the right thing, but what about the next baal simchah?

Gershon

I don’t know why it took me by surprise. It wasn’t as if I’d never made a wedding before. But this time… well, I guess I do know why this time was different.

The last three weddings I’d made were a few years ago, before Covid, when business was booming. Sure, it cost an arm and a leg, but baruch Hashem, we could afford it.

Now… things were different.

I had a job, and I was grateful for it — but my own business had disintegrated long ago, leaving a pile of debts, and it felt like financial security was a long way off.

Now, my son Naftali was getting married, and together with the excitement and gratitude and joy came more than a hint of worry.

We were barely making it through the month. We had debts that were only growing. And now we were contributing toward making a wedding.

I was lucky, though. Bracha, the kallah, came from a lovely family in another city, and her parents were taking care of most of the wedding expenses and arrangements. The only things left for me were the traditional “FLOP” expenses.

“Bracha’s mother told me about the hall and the invitations. She has very classy taste,” my wife, Judy, told me.

I knew she was concerned about our contribution to the wedding. My son would appreciate nice music, a nice photographer, those sorts of things.

“We’ll do our parts as classy as we can,” I promised her.

I wanted to give generously, too. I just didn’t want to break the (already kind of broken) bank account.

“Can we talk about the music?” Naftali hovered in the doorway of my study, where I was putting in some extra work-from-home hours. “I had an idea…”

I put my work to one side. “Sure, go for it.”

The money stress wasn’t his problem. I just hoped he didn’t have something too specific — or costly — in mind.

“So there’s this thing that a lot of my friends have done recently, instead of hiring a band and singer,” he said, pulling up a chair. “It’s basically a DJ, but a frum one, they have all the ‘in’ wedding music, all the equipment, and it’s a really good option, budget-wise.

“Also, it’s really nice,” he added quickly. “We’d get to choose all the music, which songs and albums we like, and it’s more varied. We don’t have to just go with one singer and his preferred style, you know?”

A DJ? I scratched at my beard. “That sounds… interesting,” I said. “I’ve never seen one of them at a wedding. Are you sure it’s the norm?”

Naftali cracked a smile. “Abba, when was the last time you went to a wedding?”

He was right. It had been a long time. First there was Covid, and then there’s the fact that we have a small extended family, no weddings recently, and I work for a non-Jewish firm. My early-morning chavrusa, Tzvi, had made a chasunah last year, but it was in Israel. I know people who go to weddings several times a week, but somehow, I don’t get invited to that many.

“I actually have a few coming up, the Kahns, the Minkowitzes from down the block… I’m going to look into this DJ thing,” I promised.