By Avri Gilad

“The orthodox wedding ceremony has little meaning for of the most people I meet. It hovers above them and they feel like extras – how come a rabbi is suddenly marrying us?

No one talks about the high rate of divorce

In the first place, I do not take sides. I do not support civil marriages and I do not oppose orthodox marriages. I am in favor of letting every individual do as he or she wishes.

For many people, the orthodox wedding ceremony has little meaning and the reasons are well known: the ceremony is partly in a language (Aramaic) that is incomprehensible and irrelevant and not everyone wants to place Jerusalem at the forefront of their wedding or remember the destruction of the Temple or turn the bride into an object that is purchased by the groom. These things have no meaning today for most young people.

Furthermore, there are many people who do not want the rabbinic establishment to interfere in their lives in this respect because of the unpleasant way the rabbinic establishment already interferes in their lives in other areas – i.e. by force. Orthodox weddings also contain many elements of coercion: there is the compulsory immersion in a mikve and the compulsory session with a rebbetzen, and other elements that have connection with secular life at all. All these things cause many secular people to categorically reject orthodox weddings.

Another important point, which is not openly acknowledged, is the high rate of divorce. Everyone who marries knows in his or her heart that there is a chance that they will divorce one day, so many people choose civil marriages in order to simplify the divorce process, because if their marriage is not recognized in the first place then divorcing is relatively easy (I highly recommend to couples that they sign a pre-nuptial agreement even if this may seem to show a lack of trust or love on their part).

But the main reason, in my view, is that the Orthodox wedding ceremony does not cater to the individual needs of couples; instead it bunches them together in the general category of Jewish couples. I respect and admire those think that this makes the beauty of the ceremony. In contrast, what renders civil or alternative weddings attractive is that they stress the centrality of the couple: not the Jewish people, not the Jewish covenant, but in pride of place the specific couple which is getting married. On this very special day, couples want the ceremony to relate to them and to speak about them; they do not want something that hovers over them and that does not include them. For most of the people I meet (this does not mean they are the majority in the country), the orthodox ceremony does not mean anything to them. They feel like extras in such a ceremony. How come a rabbi is marrying them? He does not know us and he does not approve of the way we live, such as living together before marrying, etc. In the place of truth and meaning, it creates distortion and contortion.

This is why people seek alternatives. Many couples who go through the Orthodox ceremony come to me because they want, in addition, a ceremony that has meaning for them. The weddings I officiate place the couple, their love story and their relationship at the center of the ceremony and they are entertaining, as opposed to the dullness of Orthodox rabbis. I also include Jewish elements in my ceremonies – blessings from the sheva brakhot (seven marriage blessings) and I wear a kippa for part of the ceremony – but I don’t understand the point of saying to couples “for one day at least you are Jewish.” Who decides when and how we should be Jewish? On the very day that is so special to you, you are made to feel alienated? If you have some religious background, you may find meaning in the ceremony, otherwise you won’t. Instead of coercing, I prefer to officiate ceremonies that are less governed by halakha (religious law). I won’t go into the issue of their legal status: what is not recognized today will be recognized tomorrow. But, anyway, that is not the issue – the issue is simply enabling people to have the wedding ceremony they desire.

By Hiyuta Deutsch

“The covenant which a wife and husband enter into is special to them, but it is also part of the larger covenant between them and their families, between them and their people and between them and their God.”

Afterwards their lives will be complete…

The sad fact is that, for most people in the world, love is not enough: when it’s time to start a family, they usually decide to concretize their relationship in some formal way, through a civil, legal or religious process.

Civil marriages, which are a form of contract, really rattle me. I can’t bear their pettiness. They lower my standing and diminish the meaning of my freedom as a human being, because marriage, in my eyes, is something that is more complete that the sum of its parts. If this were not so, how then would we be able to confront the difficulties we face? This is the reason why a third rib is present in the marriage contract. To my mind, this is an essential element and in my Jewish language I call it kedusha (holiness). The wife is blessed and the husband blesses. So let’s put feminism aside for the moment, we’ll come back to it later.

Marriage is a mitzva (commandment), the mitzva of bringing order to the world and repairing it. Raising a family is a mitzva, procreating children is a mitzva. The word “mitzva” represents something that is greater than the sum of four walls, two people and one family vehicle. A mitzva is the opposite of a whim or of a secular act. A mitzva is one tiny part of an entire world of meaning. Viewing marriage as a mitzva places the couple, which it engenders, in a historical sequence: the marriage has depth, it has a past and a future.

In order that two worlds can create a third, energy is needed from another source – religious energy, holy energy. Creating a family is like creating a child. Chemistry is not enough, someone in heaven needs to invigorate the flesh and blood body with a soul. “Covenant” is the correct term for this. The covenant which a husband and wife enter into is special to them and is stamped with their personal signatures, but it is at the same time part of the large covenant that exists by necessity between them and their families, between them and their people, and between them and their God.

The presence of a rabbi is not essential. The witnesses are even more important than he is, for they are witnesses to the fact that a deed of purchase is being carried out – not the purchase of a body, God forbid, for the husband is not purchasing a concubine (now we come to the feminist bit) and the wife is not purchasing a cash dispenser. The ketuba (marriage contract) obligates a husband to care for his wife’s every need. The husband is purchasing intimacy from his wife and from that moment the wife is forbidden to any other man and for the last one thousand years, since the ban imposed by Rabbi Gershom on bigamy, the husband is also forbidden to any other woman. This is a decision or contract which can be annulled in exchange for the appropriate financial compensation. This is what is set down. It is a legal procedure sealed with the seal of the mitzva and of holiness. It seems to me that this is the fundamental principle that causes people from other cultures to marry in church or before a Khadi court. The set of reciprocal commitments which a husband and wife make to each other is imbued with greater validity when it is part of a larger set of commitments towards another entity that is greater than the two of them. An essential dimension is thus instilled into the marriage.

Afterwards, the couple will have an entire life to think of ways in which they can include this entity in their lives, in order not to sink into a world filled with trifles and pettiness, but to be enlightened with the same holiness, depth and meaning as they had when they first married.