A Bride Describes the Experience of an Orthodox Jewish Wedding
By Sara Esther Crispe
I am having my hair done, my nails, my makeup. But within, I am in a completely different world. My focus is on the new life I am about to embark upon. I keep his picture in my mind, his words in my heart, and his being engraved in my soul. It is my wedding day.
It had always seemed to me that, for most of us, many of the Torah’s laws restricting relations between the sexes are a sort of collective punishment for the sins of a few. But recently my perspective has changed . . .
I had signed up for J-date, the on-line Jewish dating service, and I was getting frustrated with the whole experience. From the music industry braggart with the purple Jaguar to the seventy-five year old who’d claimed to be fifty, the prospects were disappointing...
There was jealousy. There was anger. There was even resentment and pain.
But there was also love and support and encouragement and advice, not from two
parents, but from four.
We don’t do anything. There's something in the atmosphere and experience that takes away the ability to concentrate or focus. One’s greatest desire is simply to not be there, to not be doing this, and to have it be over with as quickly as possible . . .
Could others see the countless tiny strands of their separate anxieties
silently knitting them together? Did anyone notice how, though they sat on separate
chairs not touching, they sat as close as two people could without touching?
My favorite is a dozen or more long-stemmed, freshly cut red roses. But a bouquet of any assortment will bring a smile to my face. My husband knows of this weakness of mine, and uses it to his advantage.
We can discuss the rational merits of my argument until we're both blue in the face. But even more important is to understand why we are in this discussion to begin with
My daughter asks difficult questions about why we divorced and if I hate her father. For now I lie, but it is only a matter of time until she learns the truth about our marriage.
Neither parent seemed to notice the presence of their young daughter in the entranceway. I was only ten at the time, but my sensitive nature detected that the room was full of their love for each other . . .
Through trial and error, and now years of experience, I’ve come to realize that communicating is not about talking and “listening”; it’s about understanding.
When I was able to finally meet my husband's grandparents who could not travel to the wedding, my entire outlook on the fragileness of love was challenged forever...