Rabbi's Blog

This week, Rishi and I took the kids on a last-minute getaway to Penn Yan and the Keuka/Seneca Lake area. With a few of our kids heading off to schools out of town next week, family bonding time is especially precious. Kudos to my wife Rishi for making sure our family has these experiences and memories.
 

Fittingly, this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, contains several mitzvahs relating to marriage. One particularly beautiful mitzvah says that during the first year of marriage, a newly married man is exempted from military and certain communal obligations so that he can “bring joy to the wife whom he married” (Deuteronomy 24:5). The Torah is telling us something profound: marriage requires time, attention and investment.
 

But before building a marriage comes another fascinating question: How do two people find each other in the first place?

The idea of a “soulmate” fascinates many people. In Jewish tradition, it is often connected with basherte—the idea that two people are destined from Above to marry.
 

If someone is truly my soulmate, can anyone prevent us from getting married?

And if yes, what does it mean to say the match was “meant to be”?

The Jewish answer is surprising:
 

Yes and yes.

There is an element of Heavenly decree in marriage, but human choice is also involved.
 

The Talmud teaches that forty days before an embryo is formed, a Heavenly voice announces who that person will marry.
 

Yet the Talmud also teaches that a person’s match is connected to his or her deeds. The Talmud resolves the apparent contradiction by distinguishing between a first match and a subsequent match.
 

But how do we live with both ideas?
 

When a person seeks a life partner, Divine Providence can lead that person to the right one.
 

But we still have to make the decision.
 

We cannot know everything about another person or what the future holds.

We use our judgment. We look at character, values, kindness and compatibility. We make the best decision we can, pray for guidance, and surrender the outcome to G-d Almighty.
 

Jewish mystical tradition speaks of husband and wife as two halves of one soul.
 

But marriage is not simply about finding your “other half.” It is about what those two halves create together.
 

Hopefully, a family and children! But also everything else they build: a home, a business, a community and a life of meaning.
 

Sometimes people who are dating worry that a prospective partner is too strong for them.
 

A wise Rabbi once said: If you see yourselves as competitors, you have a problem.
 

If you see yourselves as a creative team, you may eventually thank Hashem that your team has that extra strength.
 

Your partner’s strength does not have to compete with yours. It can complement yours.
 

Veteran Chabad Rabbi Shmuel Lew of London once shared a beautiful lesson from a Yechidus, a private audience with the Rebbe, in 1974.

Rabbi Lew mentioned a communal figure who disagreed with Chabad over a particular matter.
 

The Rebbe responded: There are 613 mitzvos in the Torah. If he disagrees with us on one, let’s work with him on the other 612.
 

What a wonderful prescription for marriage.

When we focus on the one thing we disagree about, it can become larger than everything we share.
 

This does not mean ignoring serious differences. It means remembering that a relationship is bigger than any single disagreement.
 

Build on what you share.
 

Perhaps that is part of the meaning of basherte.
 

The meeting may be guided from Above. The opportunity may be placed before us by Divine Providence. But choosing one another—and continuing to choose one another—is our responsibility.
 

Heaven may bring two people together. What they create together is up to them.

Shabbat Shalom! Good Shabbos! Kesivah vaChassimah Tovah!
Rabbi Yitzi Hein

Today we enter the month of Elul, the Jewish month leading up to the High Holidays.

This month of Elul is a time to prepare for growth, strengthen our connection with G-d, and increase in mitzvot—especially kindness and tzedakah, giving to those in need.

I want to share a story I heard from veteran Chabad Rabbi Shmuel Lew of London, England, may he live and be well.

A 12-year-old boy who looked different from his classmates was often excluded when they played together. His mother spoke to his Jewish school in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, but when the situation did not improve, she wrote to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson.

The Rebbe responded strongly. He warned the school that if they did not address the situation, he would personally come there (for context- this was unheard of)!

A few months later, the boy celebrated his Bar Mitzvah at a synagogue some distance from 770, the Rebbe’s synagogue in Brooklyn.

That Shabbat, the Rebbe would normally lead a farbrengen—a large gathering of teaching and song attended by thousands of people for a few hours. This was the community highlight in Crown Heights of the week.

But to everyone’s surprise, the Rebbe announced that there would be no farbrengen that day because of the boy’s Bar Mitzvah.

Now, there was enough time for people to attend the Bar Mitzvah and still return for the farbrengen. But the Rebbe wanted them to stay. He wanted the community to spend time with the boy, befriend him, and show him that he belonged.

Why was changing the whole community schedule so important?

Perhaps the answer can be found at the end of this week’s Torah portion, Shoftim.

The Torah describes what must happen when a person is found murdered outside a city and the killer is unknown. The elders of the closest town perform a special ceremony and declare, “Our hands did not spill this blood.” (Read the passage in Deuteronomy 21)

Our Sages ask an obvious question: Would anyone suspect these respected leaders of murder?

The answer is that they are declaring that they were not even indirectly responsible. Perhaps the victim passed through their town and no one offered him food or accompanied him on his way. Could they have done something that might have prevented the tragedy?

The Torah is teaching us that a community must take responsibility for every person.

Sometimes a person, especially a young person, feels lost or alone. They may be searching for friendship, meaning, or simply a place to belong.

Whose responsibility is it to notice and help?

The answer is: all of us.

The community could have said, “The way this boy is being treated is unfortunate, but it is not my problem.” They could have briefly attended his Bar Mitzvah and then hurried back to the Rebbe.

But the Rebbe was teaching something very different.

When someone feels excluded, we have a responsibility to help them feel that they belong. When someone is struggling, we cannot simply say, “It was not my fault.”

Every person matters. Every person belongs. And each of us has a responsibility to make sure they know it.

May this new month of Elul bring us closer to Hashem, and may we be blessed with a Shabbat of peace, joy, and true spiritual preparation for the coming year.

May we all be written and sealed for a good and sweet new year.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yitzi Hein