A Weird Shidduch and the Message of Tu B’Av

Name calling in politics is nothing new. America has a long history of presidential candidates hurling insults at one another, going all the way back to the 1800 race between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. And yet, it often feels like we manage to reach new lows.

Just this week one candidate described the other as an “incompetent socialist lunatic” who is “not very smart” and has the “laugh of a crazy person,” while the other side has repeatedly labeled their opponents as, “creepy and yes, just very weird.”

When those who are competing for the presidency on both sides engage in juvenile name calling instead of focusing on differences in policies, it is not only demeaning to the position they seek but it helps launder this behavior for the general population, and makes name-calling permissible, acceptable, and even admirable. Children who call others names are called bullies and it is no less wrong when the same behavior is coming from adults.

When I was growing up, one insult that was considered particularly biting and especially hurtful was calling someone weird. It may not strike a desensitized, 21st-century reader as overly cruel, but calling someone a “weirdo” or weird isolates them, making them and others believe that they aren’t normal, they are an outlier and outsider and don’t belong.

Labeling someone as weird isn’t just a momentary insult, it can damage socially and financially in real and lasting ways you may not even appreciate in the moment.

Dovid and Elisheva (names changed) are a fantastic couple in our community. They participate in davening, learning, and volunteering in community programs and chesed activities. They are building a beautiful family together, but their wonderful marriage almost didn’t happen.

Elisheva was moving to the West Side of Manhattan and went to meet up with a friend to see a potential apartment. She got to the building early and while waiting in the lobby, noticed a guy who looked, in her words, “frum and normal.” Always on the lookout for her potential bashert, she asked the friend, “What’s the story with the guy who was in the lobby before? “ The friend made a face and said, “Oh, that guy? That guy is totally weird, he is always talking to the doorman.” That comment, that one word “weird,” embedded itself deeply in her mind and created a mental block, a narrative that Dovid was “the weird guy who talks to the doorman,” someone she should never be interested in.

Elisheva moved into the building and, over the course of the next couple of years, crossed paths with Dovid at Shabbos meals, speed dating events and, naturally, the lobby of the building. They made small talk and at times it even felt like they were making a connection, but whenever they interacted, Elisheva still heard the voice of her friend telling her that Dovid is the “weird guy who talks to the doorman,” and she of course had no interest. Who wants to go out with someone weird?

Two years after Elisheva moved in, Dovid was scheduled to move out, to leave the building, and leave New York. On his last Shabbos, he ran into Elisheva and told her that he was leaving. They had a great conversation, and it even felt to him like for the first time, she had let her guard down. So, he thought to himself, why not, why not give this a shot and ask her out directly. When Shabbos ended, he called her. Elisheva thought to herself, you know, he is a nice enough guy, and even if he is weird, he deserves an A for effort. I will go out once just to be nice. It will be a “one and done.”

When they went out, Elisheva discovered that Dovid often talked to the doorman because he lived on the first floor, worked from his apartment, had limited interactions with people, and enjoyed stepping out to connect with someone who was often lonely himself. Dovid wasn’t “weird,” he was actually wonderful. A few months later they were engaged, and the rest is history.

Reflecting on their story, Elisheva says had the friend not dropped that anchor, attached that label of “weird” and planted that mental block, they could have avoided two years of going down the wrong paths, dating the wrong people and “wasting” their time. Recognizing that while everything has a reason and Hashem clearly decided they needed to date for two additional years after first seeing each other, she still says the friend was unkind and unfair using that term “weird” and it could have caused her to pass up her bashert altogether. (To this day, to her credit, Elisheva has yet to tell Dovid who the friend was that had called him weird and had almost kept them apart forever.)

This week we observed Tu B’Av. The Mishna characterizes Tu B’Av as the happiest day of the year, a day that the women of Yerushalayim would dress up in white and would draw attention to their interest in finding a husband and building a home.

But why this date? The Gemara in Taanis (30a) identifies several events that happened specifically on the 15th of Av, including the day young men and women were allowed to intermarry among the different tribes. It was also the day the tribe of Binyamin was welcomed back into Klal Yisroel, the day those who travelled through the desert stopped dying, the day the guards who blocked the roads to Yerushalayim were removed, the day those martyred in Beitar were allowed to be buried.

What emerges from this seemingly disparate list is that Tu B’Av is the holiday of bringing back together that which was apart. Tribes were divided, the Jewish people were alienated from Hashem, and on Tu B’av the pieces of the puzzle that belonged together were put back in place to form the most beautiful and unified picture. Tu B’Av is the chag ha’achdus v’ha’ichud, it is the holiday of unity and oneness, of parts becoming a whole.

We can only go from Tisha B’Av, a day commemorating the tragedies and calamities that come from being divided, to Tu B’Av, a day of unity and togetherness, if we are careful with our labels, words, and the way we describe one another. There is nothing weird about loving every Jew and seeing the best and the positive in them.

The next time you are asked about someone for a shidduch, a business deal or as a reference, be honest and truthful. But, also be thoughtful and judicious in what adjectives and labels you use. What is just a word or phrase for you can be the difference between happiness and prosperity or loneliness and struggle for them.

In a world in which leaders act like children, let’s strive to be the adults in the room.

{Reposted from the Rabbi’s site}

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