I'm currently going out a girl who's very nice, easy to talk to, and enjoyable to be around. For the most part we have similar hashkafos, with one big difference.

I grew up in a very open home with tons of guests, lots of kiruv, random people around our Shabbos table, etc. My parents are both heavily involved in all sorts of klal work and volunteer a lot of their time.

The girl I'm dating feels strongly that a Shabbos table is a place of refuge for the family. She believes that you should focus on your family and fit in chesed if you can, but your life shouldn't revolve around it. She's somewhat quiet and reserved, so I don't know how much of this is a shitah and how much is her personality.

We were told she's a loyal friend, and it seems she expresses her ruchniyus in other ways, like regularly going to shiurim, etc., but I'm wondering if this is just too big a gap to cross. You always refer to being hashkafically compatible ® does this qualify as incompatibility? Basically, is this a deal breaker?

Confused

Dear Confused,

You know how Jews answer a question with a question? Well, how about those Jews who answer a question with a story? If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share a story.

Years ago, my husband and I had the zechus of joining a friend of ours at the bris they made on the East Coast. After the simchah, we gave a ride to one of the guests, and, of course, the topic of living out of town came up. I mentioned how much I enjoy being a big fish in a small pond and feeling that I can really make a difference in the community.

Our guest responded with, “I don’t need any fish, I don’t need any pond. I take care of my family, and that’s enough for me.” After I got past my initial judgmental horror (after all, I was around 32 and knew exactly how everyone should live their lives) I paused and thought about her words.

Shivim panim l’Torah. Who’s to say whose method of avodas Hashem, if any, is best? On an esoteric level, there are many ways to serve Hashem, and each draws on the predilection of the server, the cultural forces surrounding them, the spiritual milieu of the time, and a host of other factors.

As my cohort was growing up, we were imbued with a sense of achrayus to the klal. From what I can see in this current generation, the pendulum is swinging back to a focus on the family. “You should not be making four-course suppers for your kimpeturin neighbor while your family eats cereal” types of messages. Is there actually an objective right or wrong in this area?

But pontification doesn’t really help you here. You want to know, tachlis, if the two of you plan to build a home together, do you need to be on the same page? Chesed begins in the home. We can all agree on that. But does it end there? That, you have different ideas about.

I recently was privileged to hear a wonderful class about conversations, wherein I learned that in meaningful conversation, there’s a shared pool of meaning. Each of us enters a conversation with our own opinions, feelings, theories, and experiences about the topic. These make up our personal pool of meaning. When two or more people enter a crucial conversation, we build a pool of shared meaning — the more we add of each person’s meaning, the more information is available to everyone involved, and the better the decisions made (crucialskills.com).

You both need to understand more about each other’s feelings around this topic. It’s time to have an authentic conversation about what significance she attributes to family time on Shabbos. Is she coming from a place of seeing families who fell apart because they were too focused on external chesed? Did she experience Shabbos as a warm, wholesome family experience that she wants to pass on to her children? What does it mean to her?

And then it would be your turn to explore what “external chesed” means to you. What meaning do you attach to your family’s model of chesed? Do you feel that if you’re blessed with gifts, you have an achrayus to share? Do you feel that in order to feel areivus with Klal Yisrael you actually have to physically help them?

Having a rich conversation about this topic will help clarify whether you do, in fact, share similar hashkafos. You may discover that at the root of both of your philosophies is a deep desire to serve Hashem with joy. For her, joy might come in small intimate settings, and she might feel closest to Hashem when she’s in that space. For you, the buzz that’s created from various forms of activity might bring you to that place of joy.

The details don’t matter. The point is that you may discover that your goal is the same, but your pathways are different. That becomes a starting point. Then you can move on to the conversation about how a couple decides what to do when they see things differently. And you can decide if both of you are flexible enough to make that work.

Important note: You can gauge that far more accurately from what she does than from what she says. If she displays flexibility as you’re dating, if she disagrees respectfully, and most importantly, if she listens to learn and not just to respond, then you have the elements of someone who you can work with.

Alternatively, you may have the conversation and see that each, or one, of you is too emotionally attached to your way of chesed to see the perspective of the other. If you’re left with judgment and a deep sense of dissatisfaction, that’s an indication that trying to make this work doesn’t align with your true values.

May Hashem help you have this conversation in a way that enlightens you and brings you to a decision of shleimus.

Sara

Sara Eisemann, LMSW, ACSW, is a licensed social worker and a dating mentor. She lectures on topics related to relationships, personal development, authenticity, and growth. She welcomes questions, comments, feedback, and interaction at matchquest@mishpacha.com.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 794)

The post “Does This Qualify as Incompatibility?”     first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Sherry Zimmerman, J.D., M.Sc. and Rosie Einhorn, L.C.S.W.

When faced with another failed shidduch, some daters simply dismiss it as “not bashert” and move on. And that may be the case. Sometimes, though, they’re the one preventing shidduchim from moving forward. Two seasoned dating mentors, who are also psychotherapists, share the self-sabotaging behaviors they see most often — and strategies for getting past them

"I don’t know what to do,” Shevy* told us with a sigh. “I’m ready to go on a fourth date with Eli, but out of the blue I got a ‘yes’ from Shmuel. I’ve been dying to go out with him for two years. He’s everything I want, and if I don’t meet him now, he’ll date the next girl. What if it doesn’t work out with Eli? I can’t lose this chance.”

During the decades we’ve been mentoring daters, we’ve seen this scenario unfold countless times. “Shevy, you’re telling us that even though things have been going well with Eli, you’re ready to drop him because your fantasy life with Shmuel might come true. What’s wrong with this picture?”

“You tell me,” Shevy responded defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong. Eli’s a nice guy, and there’s no reason for me to stop seeing him. But there’s also nothing to keep me there. And Shmuel’s exactly what I’m looking for. I’ve been waiting for a ‘yes’ for so long.”

We empathized with Shevy. “We can see why you want to date someone you’ve been waiting for. That said, there’s no guarantee that you and Shmuel will get to a second date. On the other hand, you see good things about Eli, and your connection is just starting to develop. If you stop seeing him now, you’ll never find out what could’ve been.”

Shevy looked pensive. “It’s funny you should say that. In the past, I’ve done exactly what I want to do now — end something at this point because there’s a guy who sounds better. And, I have to admit, when I did that, it never materialized into anything. Still, I can’t stop hoping that with Shmuel it’ll be different.”

When a budding shidduch is progressing slowly, daters can get easily distracted if a new suggestion comes up that sounds more exciting — be it with yichus, family status, looks, charm, or a bio that “checks all the boxes.” They rationalize that they should jump ship on the current shidduch to date the new person. But actually, they’re engaging in one of the many forms of shidduch self-sabotage.

There are many reasons why men and women who seem to be dating for marriage repeatedly sabotage themselves to keep relationships from forming. Many of these daters usually don’t understand, or at least won’t admit to themselves, that something is blocking them from moving forward. They believe they want to be married, and they date frequently and readily, but their own actions keep them from achieving their goal.

The post Scaling the Wall You Built first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

“W

hen we’re vulnerable, we create connection. When we’re not, there’s disconnection,” says relationship coach and educator Julie Lurie. A tachlis person by nature, she doesn’t trifle with long-winded introductions when teaching couples how to create emotional intimacy in marriage.

“The word ‘vulnerability’ is often misunderstood,” observes Julie, who runs a private coaching practice out of Chicago, Illinois and is the cofounder, along with her husband, Rabbi Yitzchak Lurie, of the Connections Marriage Institute. The Institute, endorsed by Rav Shumel Fuerst shlita and  the late Harav Gedlaya Schwartz, offers international teleconference marriage seminars, premarital education, and training programs for coaches and kallah teachers.

When Julie trains relationship coaches, she asks them to define vulnerability. Their responses are often similar to the dictionary’s definition: (noun) putting yourself in the face of danger, exposing yourself to risk both physically and emotionally.

“Yet that’s not accurate,” says Julie. “What I learned from vulnerability researcher and author Brené Brown is that vulnerability isn’t a state of being. It’s a verb — an action. It’s the practice of showing up and allowing yourself to be seen. To expose your heart, to admit and talk about your feelings.”

And that calls for genuine courage. Because to connect emotionally with your husband and be real with him, you must be emotionally honest with yourself and tuned into your emotional needs.

“The process of getting to know ourselves initially feels uncomfortable,” Julie says. “What if we don’t like what we see? What if our husband won’t like what he sees? What if we meet this needy person we don’t want to identify with? I tell my clients to expect a vulnerability hangover when they start working on this.”

Julie had one client who had to dim the living room lights before she could share vulnerable feelings with her husband. Another woman, who didn’t realize how attached she was to her iPhone, described to Julie the painfully vulnerable experience of simply being alone in a room with her husband without the security of her phone.

It doesn’t surprise Julie when she sees this. “Hashem designed us in a way that we’re hardwired for connection, specifically through our soulmate. So when we’re disconnected with our spouse, we feel a painful emptiness at our core, which we desperately try to fill. That’s when we go for the quick fixes, like our phones and social media. I see so much numbing with women who are having a hard time connecting in their marriages.”

Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, a world-renowned psychiatrist and best-selling author of The Body Keeps the Score, speaks about our deep human need for connection. “In his training course, Dr. van der Kolk opened up his first class by talking about what decades of researching trauma data taught him: The source of all misery and torture is a feeling of disconnection — from ourselves and from other people.

“By the same token,” Julie continues, “Dr. van der Kolk teaches that the source of the purest, most unrefined joy is a feeling of connection with ourselves and others. You’ll notice there’s an order: We can’t taste real connection with others until we first connect with ourselves. This means raising the volume of our inner voice and accepting ourselves and our needs. Once we’ve done that, we’re ready for stage two: sharing what we’re feeling and what we need emotionally from others.”

The post Showing Up first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

MY

husband and I are by no means wealthy, but fortunately, we’re able to make a solid parnassah and support our family. My husband is super-responsible financially and is careful to set up trust funds for the kids, make pension investments, etc.

I very much appreciate his careful approach to money and support him in all these decisions, and work to keep within our budget.

Recently, though, we came head-to-head in a sticky financial decision. My younger brother, whom I am very close to, approached us and asked for a loan to help him buy a house.

My brother is a rebbi, his wife is a speech therapist, and I know it took them a long time to even save up the down payment for this. Because his income is in a low bracket, he was looking for loans to supplement the mortgage they’d take, thus avoiding higher interest payments.

I was completely on board to help out my sibling, even though it’s a substantial sum, and lending it to him would mean we’d have less than usual to put into savings for the next while. However, my husband is far more cautious, and told me he wants to refuse. He feels that my brother’s plans to repay the loans weren’t completely sustainable, and we may run into a risk of him not being able to complete payments on time.

I was stunned. This is my brother! So what if he’d be a bit late in his checks? He wouldn’t leave us high and dry. And how could we not help family?

My husband’s attitude is exactly the opposite: Never mix finances and family. If anything goes wrong, we’d be the ones losing out, because you can’t demand money that family doesn’t have.

I feel confused and torn, caught between my husband and my brother. Should I listen to my husband? Flat-out refuse to help my brother? How do I navigate this?

Rabbi Avrohom Neuberger is the rav of Congregation Shaarei Tefillah of New Hempstead and the author of Sefer Chofetz Chaim Elucidated, a Chofetz Chaim Heritage Foundation project (ArtScroll\Mesorah)

Before discussing tactics as to how to get your husband to do what you want (a noble cause, no doubt), let’s discuss who is objectively right and wrong. After all, maybe… just maybe… he’s right (gasp).

I actually believe that you both may be somewhat right.  Before offering one’s own ideas and intuition about any topic, we have to clarify whether halachah addresses the question. And in this case, it certainly does, in that Chazal interpret the verse of “Im kesef talveh es ami….” as a commandment to extend loans to those who need it.

The halachah of who must extend loans, to whom, how much, and under what circumstances, are laid out in the Chofetz Chaim’s classic work, Ahavas Chesed. He mentions there that in the order of priorities as to whom one should lend money, a relative actually precedes a non-relative.

However, the obligation to lend someone money means that one must sacrifice the usage of his money (that he’s not currently using) to allow someone else to make money by using that money. It doesn’t obligate one to sacrifice the principle, to give up the money entirely.

The post “My Husband Won’t Help My Brother” first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Hi! I’m not sure if this is the kind of question that really has an answer, but I always love reading your advice, so I figured I would give it a shot. I’ve been dating for over two years now, but I rarely get any dates, and all for the same reason: I’m in medical school.

I understand it’s a long haul, and it’s not for everyone, but can’t it be for someone? The feeling I’m getting is that most boys want to glide seamlessly from being cared for by their mothers to being cared for by their wives. I get that. I also want to be cared for by my husband.

But I feel like I am being punished for my personal netiyos and being asked to choose between the gifts Hashem gave me and my dream of having a loving marriage and Torah home.

I’m open to dating men from across the hashkafic spectrum, but I can’t seem to find anyone who is willing to look past my career and see me. Any thoughts?

Tired and Frustrated

Dear Tired and Frustrated,

I’m so sorry.

I would say it must be so hard to feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, but actually you don’t sound stuck. You sound like you’re committed to your course and are dealing with the fallout and the accompanying feelings.

I appreciate your letter because it’s representative of one of the largest issues the dating world is dealing with — the evolution of gender roles and how they impact dating and marriage.

There was a time, not too long ago, when things were clear. Men were men and women were women. Men did men things, like have jobs and learn Gemara and support their families. Women did women things like raise children and keep house and nurture relationships. And all was well in the kingdom. (And if it wasn’t, no one spoke about it.)

Then the universe shifted (for more about why this had to happen, see Circle, Arrow, Spiral by Miriam Kosman). Suddenly things weren’t so clear anymore. The explosion of several isms all at once has created the perfect storm of confusion. Now, men do women things and women do men things. Which is great, except for the quiet secret that no one wants to publicly express: Men still want feminine women, and women still want masculine men.

One of the main concerns female clients in shidduchim express is that the men they’re dating are not masculine. A recent MatchQuest dealt directly with the issue of women wanting a man who’s a “gavra.” You’re struggling with the flip side of the coin, which is that most men seem to want a woman who’s more traditionally feminine.

What further complicates the issue is that we want to pick and choose. The guys want a feminine girl who carries the masculine traits of providing an income and the women want a masculine guy who is emotionally attuned and will get up at night with the baby. So now, confusion reigns in the kingdom.

Where does that leave a girl like you?

I think we can agree that asking someone to deny her G-d-given gifts is a recipe for disaster — or at least for a lifetime of frustration and unhappiness. I hope that you’ve consulted with your daas Torah about the most effective way to use those gifts in a way that’s compatible with your other dream of creating a loving Torah home. With that as a given, let’s move forward to the actual dilemma at hand.

You can’t control other people’s decisions. You know this, because you started out with the disclaimer that you’re not sure this question has an answer. What you can do is be in charge of how you present yourself. The fact is that there are frum married female doctors out there. And the second fact is that you only need one man. It might be helpful to speak to some of the female doctors who have been down this road and get support and guidance from them.

It also might be helpful to hold a mirror to yourself and your presentation. It’s possible to do everything in either a masculine or feminine way. A woman can be at home all day baking cookies and raising children, but still do it in a masculine way. She can be all about the schedule, and barking orders at everyone, and miss the whole connection piece. A man can be head of neurosurgery and run a department in a feminine way in which he encourages lateral cooperation and provides support to colleagues after a hard surgery. The point is, it’s not about the objective behavior, it’s about the energy the person infuses into it.

Is it possible that as you present yourself to shadchanim or others you project an aura of masculinity that is threatening? When you ask the question about guys wanting their wife to be like their mother, could it be that it gives off an air of irritation and suggests that you’d resent being nurturing?

I don’t know. I’m not there when you speak to shadchanim. But I wonder if people are less concerned about your profession and more concerned about the fact that you don’t seem predisposed to some of the traditional nurturing roles that they want in a spouse.

I don’t think you need to give up either dream. I think that masculine side feels threatened and its defenses are right at the forefront, ready to protect your dreams from any oncoming threat. It might be helpful to reflect deeply and reconnect with the feminine side that holds the other dream and help that come to the fore.

I wish you tremendous siyata d’Shmaya in finding the special boy who will cherish and value the beautiful mix that you are.

Sara

Sara Eisemann, LMSW, ACSW, is a licensed social worker and a dating mentor. She lectures on topics related to relationships, personal development, authenticity, and growth. She welcomes questions, comments, feedback, and interaction at  matchquest@mishpacha.com.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 788)

The post I Rarely Get Any Dates, And All for the Same Reason: I’m in Medical School     first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Moderated by Faigy Peritzman

We live in an apartment building, and there are two other apartments on our floor.  One is occupied by an elderly widow and the other by a couple in their mid-forties who have two very young children, plus a bunch of teenagers from their previous marriages.

I often ask my ten- and eleven-year-old sons to help the widow take out her garbage and carry up her groceries. I have two goals with this: first, to assist her, and second, to teach my children the concept of chesed and to develop their generosity “muscles.”

Yet often, I find myself in a quandary with both these reasons. Last Erev Shabbos, my other neighbor knocked on our door not long before Shabbos, when my sons were in the middle of their chores. He said he’s going away for Shabbos and, because it’s so hot, asked if my boys could help him carry his suitcases and other paraphernalia to the car.

When my sons came back from helping him, they commented that he often asks them to take out the garbage, or carry something up to an upstairs neighbor so he doesn’t have to walk up the stairs. My seven-year-old daughter piped in that he’d asked her to carry something the other day and it had been very heavy and hard for her.

There’s something about my neighbor’s behavior that makes me very uncomfortable. He seems like a strong, able-bodied man and doesn’t need the help, rather  he’s being lazy, and is taking advantage of my children by getting them to do his dirty work.

I personally have great difficulty asking for help and saying no to people, so I feel I can’t assess what the right approach to this should be. I don’t want my children to learn to harden their hearts by refusing to assist someone, and I don’t want to teach them chutzpah by encouraging them to say “no” when an adult makes a request of them. On the other hand, I think it’s very important for their well-being that they don’t become shmattehs, and should be able to discern when they’re helping someone in need and when they’re enabling someone’s flaws. Any guidance would be much appreciated.

Rabbi Avishai David is the rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Toras Shraga in Yerushalayim as well as the Rav of Beis Knesses Beis Tefilah Yona Avrohom in Ramat Beit Shemesh Alef.

You’re expressing a fundamental Torah principle. The overriding goal of a Torah lifestyle is to incorporate chesed into our lives. Chazal tell us that the Torah begins with chesed and ends with chesed — opening with Hashem clothing Adam and Chavah, and closing with Hashem burying Moshe Rabbeinu.

The Gemara in Sotah tells us, “Ma hu, af atah — just as He is, you should be.” We have an obligation to emulate Hashem, and we should try to do chesed, just as He does.

Your overarching goal of instilling the middah of chesed within your children is excellent. It’s always better to err on the side of chesed.  Even if it’s not the ideal balance, you’re never going to lose out.

On the other hand, I’ve been involved in the world of chinuch and rabbanus for over 48 years, and I understand your dilemma. We don’t want our children to be exploited. We want to instill in them a sense of fair play and the ability to make nuanced decisions distinguishing between those who are and aren’t worthy of being recipients of our chesed.

Let’s take a look at two examples the Torah gives us in doing chesed. In both parshas Mishpatim (Shemos 23:5) and in parshas Ki Seitzei (Devarim 22:4), the Torah discusses what to do when you come across a man with a loaded donkey. The example in parshas Mishpatim describes the donkey being so overloaded that it falls, and in parshas Ki Seitzei, the load falls off. In both cases, the Torah says you must help, imo — with him. Rashi points out that the obligation to help this man applies only if the owner participates in the work. If he sits back and watches you work, that’s unconscionable, and you’re not obligated to assist.

Suppose you meet two fellows, each with a donkey. One needs help with loading up the donkey and the other needs help unloading a too-heavy load from the donkey. The unloading should take precedence as it’s causing tzaar baalei chayim.

But suppose the one with the heavy load is a friend and the one whose load fell off is someone you don’t like. Who gets preference? Although normally the heavy load takes preference due to tzaar baalei chayim, in this case, we should first assist the man we don’t like, because it’s good for us to conquer our yetzer hara.

This concept is fundamental when discussing chesed. Often when it comes to chesed and tzedakah, our sense of ego gets involved.  Right before the giving of the Aseres Hadibros (Devarim 5:5) it says, “I stood between Hashem and you.” The baalai mussar tell us we can understand these words to mean that the “I,” our ego, gets in the way of serving Hashem properly.

That’s why we have the concept of chesed shel emes. If it’s emes, if it’s an act based on integrity, then it’s the ideal chesed.

There isn’t one answer to this question. We can only explore the attitudes and understandings behind this fundamental art of chesed. The Rambam in Peirush Hamishnayos discusses how to measure tzedakah. Is it better to give a poor person one dollar or to give him 100 pennies over a period of time?

The Rambam answers it’s better to give 100 pennies. Why? Because the act of giving so many pennies transforms you into a more magnanimous person. And that, too, is the goal of chesed: to embed within our personality the middah of giving.

When faced with a dilemma regarding how to balance chinuch with chesed, we need to keep these pointers in mind. We want our children to become baalei chesed. Why is it called a baal chesed? Because once we’ve imbued these concepts and achieved the proper formula and balance, the person has acquired this middah of chesed, he now owns it. That’s what I wish you’re able to instill in your children.

Mrs. Shani Mendlowitz is the menaheles of Bais Yaakov Seminary of Montreal.

How wonderful it is that you’re being mechanech your children in gemilus chasadim. May this be the start of a lifelong commitment to maasim tovim for them and an eternal zechus for you!

My first piece of advice to you is not to overreact or be impulsive. I’ve found that when faced with delicate, uncertain situations, it’s best to be a curious observer before taking action.

First of all, how frequent are the neighbor’s requests?

Second, although he may look healthy, he may actually have an underlying health condition. Perhaps he usually asks your children for help when they’re going down the stairs anyway.

At the same time, I’ll admit there’s another reason I advise you to be an observer. When a child shares information about an outsider who approaches him often, the parent has to be wary and make sure there’s no form of any danger brewing. So, although I’m advising you not to overreact — and there probably is nothing terribly wrong — I urge you to be around, stay around, and look around.

In the meantime, what should you say to your children? In general, it’s not a good habit to stand in judgment of the people with whom we perform chesed, deciding how needy or deserving they are of our help.

Obviously, if faced with two people/causes who need our help simultaneously, we have to decide where to invest our efforts. But when there’s a single opportunity, chesed should be done without much suspicion and judgment, for two reasons: It’s often not possible to discern exactly how much the person really needs us, and it’s also not good for our own middos and interpersonal relationships to get into the habit of second-guessing or judging. (Of course, I’m not referring to blatant cases of misrepresentation.)

In most cases, why shouldn’t we help someone? What, exactly, are we losing? Consider how very much we’re gaining.

Particularly with regard to children, we want to be machanech them to be eager to lend a hand, to look for chesed opportunities, without being judgmental and critical of others. While it’s true that an adult may grapple with choosing between two causes, or the complex issues of enablers and codependents, a young child doesn’t have the sophistication to understand enabling, and usually isn’t faced with that issue. It seems overly dramatic to assume that children are enabling an adult by carrying some packages up and down the steps.

That said, I think you should keep things simple. Validate their feelings when necessary and — unless you discover a truly unhealthy dynamic — encourage your children to continue helping both your neighbors. It’s unlikely that they’ll become “shmattehs,” and they certainly aren’t “enabling his flaws.” In the case of your daughter, tell her to speak up respectfully if the package is too heavy. He probably didn’t realize what it was like for her.

Let’s remember that Hashem, in Whose ways we must follow, is the Ultimate Giver. The Ramchal writes that Hashem actually created the world l’heitiv, in order that there be creations to whom He can give. Thus, the purest form of chesed is creative rather than responsive, to give regardless of the status of the recipient.

May HaKadosh Baruch Hu give you continued hatzlachah and brachah in raising your wonderful children.

Menachem Bernfeld has a master’s in education and is a certified life coach. He’s host of the “Let’s Get Real with Coach Menachem,” a Sunday night live interactive Zoom program, and also offers private sessions.

The best way to educate our children to do chesed, or any other positive behavior, is by modeling that behavior ourselves. The main focus here shouldn’t be on which neighbor to help, but on you yourself. If you’re always offering assistance to your widowed neighbor, then your children will pick up on the importance of this chesed and will want to do it as well.

However, if a parent is mechanech by simply telling the child: “It’s a big chesed to help this almanah, go take out her garbage, etc.,” she runs the risk of her children resenting this chesed instead of choosing it, thus sabotaging her efforts.

It’s essential for children to understand the concept of healthy balance when choosing whether or not to do a specific chesed. In this case, the question isn’t whether or not to help the almanah and/or the stronger neighbor, but whether to do chesed at all and when to choose not to. You write that it’s hard for you to say no when people ask you for help. Your children may sense that pressure and feel trapped by it, viewing all chasadim as absolute obligations rather than optional assistance.

Proper balance when it comes to chesed means realizing that whenever we say “yes” to a chesed, we’re saying “no” somewhere else. For example, if I say “yes” to run out to the grocery for a neighbor who’s unwell, I’m also saying “no” to my family members who may be home at that time and won’t have access to me when I leave. Any decision is always a balancing act of where my “yes” is most needed versus where my “no” will hurt more.

In general, we find it easier to say “no” to our own family members rather than say “no” to an outsider. But that may be a skewed attitude toward chesed as well.

Our goal as parents is to provide opportunities for our children to choose their personal balance. This way, seeing you help an almanah gives them the option to offer their own assistance next time there’s an opportunity to help someone. If they choose not to help out, it may not be what you ideally wanted them to choose, but it’s still a chinuch moment as they utilize their option for choice.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 786)

The post I’m Bad at Saying No; How Do I Teach It to My Children? first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Family: We’re born into, and we marry into it. Same word, different world.

“When it comes to everyone chipping in to buy a gift or make a party, I’m suddenly ‘family.’ One of my sisters-in-law will call me to tell me how much we’re all donating. But when the bunch of them decide to book a weekend away, somehow I’m a stranger. They don’t include me in their social life at all.”

Danielle was thrilled to marry into the Silver family. Her husband, Binyamin, was the only boy in a family of five girls. Danielle was the only girl in a family of three boys. This was her chance to have sisters at last! Or so she thought.

“They decide everything between themselves and then let me know what my role will be, as if I’m the hired help instead of a real sister. This year before Purim I received a call from Etty — the oldest — that the Purim seudah will be at Ruchie’s house and that I should bring the green salads.

“No one included me in the discussion of where the seudah should be, and, as usual, I’m assigned the task none of them wants. Who wants to be making fresh salads on Purim? I just go along with everything because, after all, we’re ‘family,’ and I don’t want to create bad feelings. Except that I end up with bad feelings all the time.”

Good People, Bad Vibes

The Silver girls are lovely people. They’re a warm and loving group — amongst themselves. But they seem impervious to the pain they’re inflicting on their brother’s wife. For his part, Binyamin sees what’s going on and has even tried to encourage his sisters to be more sensitive and inclusive.

“It’s never made a difference,” he laments. “I’ve straight out asked them to please include Danielle, and they tell me they will, but then there are no invitations.

“I know Danielle is different from them — she dresses differently, and she’s got more education and a better job than any of them do. But Danielle is no snob — she’s been desperate to be included as a sister from the day we got married. I’ve been listening to her cry to me about the hurt she feels for almost 16 years now.”

Shoshy, Binyamin’s sister, is offended when she learns that Danielle has complaints. “We’re all very nice to her,” Shoshy explains. “She’s not exactly our type, but she’s our brother’s wife, and we’re all family. We all work well together, but I don’t think we have to force a friendship when the fit isn’t a natural one. We can’t just relax and be ourselves when she’s around — she doesn’t get us. It’s awkward for everyone.

“I think that when sisters-in-law become really close, it’s because they’re the kind of people who would’ve been good friends had they met in any circumstances. I think people need to understand that just because they marry into a family doesn’t mean that they now have a new circle of besties. Good family relationships can look very different.”

Coming to Terms

When family members make a concerted effort to be truly inclusive, they can often turn strangers (in-laws) into legitimate loved ones. Making frequent contact, engaging in full reciprocity (initiating and responding to invitations to get together, for example), giving the newcomer full voting rights (i.e., including her in planning family events as well as in participating in them), and waiting patiently for the merging process to occur over months and years, can bring outsiders in, helping them to become just as much — or even more — “family” than family.

Sometimes, it’s the wisdom of the parents that guides this merging, modeling for the adult children how one fully embraces a newcomer.

There are times, however, that due to personality differences, no amount of effort will result in closeness. In this situation, the permanent “outsider” can appreciate her place in a functional, rather than warm, in-law family and put her main social efforts into her nuclear family and personal friendships. Accepting her disappointment and loss, refraining from “trying” excessively, engaging in more appropriate reciprocity (instead of over-giving and constant one-way efforts), will help prevent unnecessary pain or resentment.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 784)

The post “Family” Gathering first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Moderated by Faigy Peritzman

I’ve been feeling pretty stuck recently. I’m a single girl in nursing school, and I need YouTube for school; I wouldn’t have gotten this far without it. The medical and nursing education videos on the site have literally helped me pass my courses, and I’ve been told that such technical support is crucial to continue to succeed in my schooling.

I’ve installed a really good filter, but I find that although I’m not logging into anything “bad,” I waste a horrible amount of time watching innocuous things.

I try to tell myself that when I finish school, I’ll completely block it, but I realize that’s not realistic. At least in the beginning, I’ll be reliant on it in any new job I take (new nurses are nowhere near experts). I want to get rid of it so badly, but I need it professionally (and the medical geek part of me wants it too, because I love medical videos).

I struggle with my use of the Internet in general. My future job is going to come hand in hand with Internet education, and I need to learn how to live with it. But I feel trapped.

I’m caught between two worlds. There’s the ideal one in my mind — the type of life I desperately want for myself, and the way I envision my future home — and the practical one, where so much of my daily life revolves around the Internet. Can I have one without destroying the other?

Rabbi Menachem Nissel has been teaching in yeshivos and seminaries in Yerushalayim for over 30 years and is the author of Rigshei Lev: Women & Tefillah.

I’m not sure if this makes you feel any better, but I’m constantly hearing about the challenge of mild YouTube addiction. A talmidah will bemoan that it typically starts with something “important,” followed by an enticing clickbait asking her to watch another “slightly important” three-minute video. Suddenly, without warning, it’s two hours later, and she’s watching a tutorial on how to communicate with a giraffe. How did she get there?

You must fight this, otherwise you’ll wake up years later and realize that huge chunks of your precious life have been irretrievably lost. Furthermore, Internet surfing, even when innocuous and filtered, is rarely a healthy outlet like a hobby. It’s one of the great challenges of our generation.

Here’s a three-point plan that may work for you:

Chesed: Recognize that free time is the plaything of the yetzer hara. The solution is to be proactive in keeping yourself busy, preferably with time-bound obligations. Since most of your life when raising a family will have you involved with the amud of chesed, I strongly suggest you ramp up the chesed you do now, several hours a day. You can volunteer for bikur cholim, tutor teens, work in kiruv, make packages for the poor, or visit old age homes. You can even help your mom (sarcasm intended). The pressure of having this responsibility won’t let you waste time. If chesed isn’t an option, at least maintain a healthy social life. Keep yourself busy.

Self-control strategies: It’s like taking that second Pringle; once you click to watch your second YouTube clip, you’re “in the zone” and it’s almost impossible to pull yourself out. However, if you have a plan before you click the first time, you have a chance. The plan has to be personalized, preferably written down, to make it real. You need to be self-aware and realistic as to what works for you. The idea is to set yourself up for success. Remember not to lose hope if you fail, just try something different. This will be a long journey. Here are a few examples:

1. Place a timer next to your computer (many phones have them) and challenge yourself to not watch more than half an hour of non-essential You Tube videos a day. Make a chart for a month. If you succeed, celebrate with a tub of ice cream. Not Ben & Jerry’s. Next month go for 25 minutes. The month after 20 minutes…
2. Do the same, but with a trusted friend struggling with similar issues. Like with weight-loss challenges, having a partner adds motivation. Unlike with weight-loss challenges, you can celebrate together with ice cream.
3. If positive reinforcement isn’t for you, put ten dollars in a pushke every time you go over your half-hour of watching time. Preferably a tzedakah that doesn’t excite you, like a donation to the seminary that rejected you, thus giving you an incentive not to mess up.
4. Instead of a timer, use your browsing data (click on the “history” icon). Print out the list and read it next time you log on. Oy, the bushah!
5. Join WebChaver.org so a trusted female friend or mentor knows what you’re seeing.
6. Work on your computer in a public place.
7. Download the 613tube extension or the equivalent, which offers a cleaner environment.
8. Have motivational quotes on or near your computer. Pesukim, mussar, or write your own. Something that’s both literally and figuratively in your face.
9. Close your computer at midnight. For so many, night time is when we lose self-control.

Tefillah: Recognize you need Hashem’s help to get through this. In Shemoneh Esreh you can have kavanah when saying the words teshuvah sheleimah or hoshieinu v’nivasheia. Best is to talk to Hashem in English before you take three steps back and ask Him for inner strength not to waste time on the Internet. Daven again before touching your computer by saying a kapitel Tehillim, followed by the same request.

If these suggestions seem daunting, recognize how appalling and depressing the alternative is. Remind yourself that change comes slowly and with hard work. Most of all, focus on the prize at the other end — a new lease on life.

The Internet is the Mitzrayim of the 21st century, and we have the choice to choose freedom. Live a life where you’re in control, not a life that controls you. You’ll have earned the greatest simchah in This World and in the Next One.

The post Caught Between Two Worlds first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

“He doesn’t help me at all, and I get nothing from him emotionally, either. So what’s the point? We might as well divorce.”

This sentiment, expressed by 42-year-old Alice, mother of two (Max, six, and Karin, two), is common in today’s secular world. Alice makes a good living and doesn’t need her husband’s financial support. Her husband Bruce adds little to her quality of life; in fact, he just adds to her burden, so she can’t see why she needs to continue to live with him.

Her marriage, in her eyes, is a relationship worthwhile only as long as it’s good. Like so many things in modern life, it’s disposable when it’s broken. And the kids? Alice figures they’ll be just fine. Most of their friends come from divorced homes anyway; it’s a perfectly normal way to grow up.

The secular world is failing at marriage. Stats in 2020 show that around 40 percent of American adults have never been married. Of those who have married, half don’t stay that way, and about 50 percent of children experience their parents’ divorce. Marriage, it seems, is too hard and too disappointing for the average person to tolerate.

A Different World View

Our Torahdig belief system is grounded in the big picture, the long-term goals of existence. To us, marriage is holy. It goes way beyond a friendship that is or isn’t working out.

When Alice divorces, Max and Karin will no longer have the security of their own bedrooms. Two weeks at Mom’s; two weeks at Dad’s — ad infinitum through all their developmental years. It’s a lifestyle no adult would ever willingly adopt — and with good reason. It’s emotionally unhealthy.

But that’s not all. Max and Karin will experience a rotating cast of new parents and step-siblings — rotating because second marriages have a higher failure rate than first ones, and third marriages even higher. But according to Alice, this will somehow be fine, because she wasn’t happy being with Bruce. In reality, future partners will also fail to fulfill Alice, to make her feel she’s sufficiently understood, loved and appreciated, because the concept of such marital fulfillment is inherently flawed.

In fact, no one can “make us happy.” It’s something we must learn to do for ourselves. Cultivating the ability to appreciate everything and everyone is a very good place to start on that journey.

Chaya also struggles in her marriage. She’s resentful that her husband Shmuly comes and goes as he pleases, while she’s stuck at home with the children. And like Alice, she feels frustrated at the lack of emotional support she receives from her husband. She has plenty of other complaints as well, and has recently been considering asking Shmuly to go to marriage counseling with her. “

I know we can be a lot happier if we just work on it,” Chaya says.

Chaya knows that marriage is forever (except in unfortunate cases of intense suffering). She knows the home is a sanctuary, a place with meaning and purpose, an edifice within the Jewish People, a place where personal, emotional work leads to spiritual growth, and a place that will nurture her children’s optimal development.

She knows, in other words, that her relationship with her spouse is only one aspect of marriage, and, while it’s obviously so important, it isn’t the only determinant of her commitment.

Marriage as a Microcosm of Life

Although everyone wants to be blissfully happy in marriage, we know that ready-made marital happiness is a rare gift. We know that Hashem distributes gifts in accordance with our unique personal mission here on earth: some of us will be born into wealth, others will be handed intelligence or talent, some will be blessed with a household of healthy children and so on. We know that Hashem also distributes our challenges: financial hardships, illness, traumatic experiences, etc.

We’re ready for life — or, as l’havdil, Jon Kabat-Zinn, might say, “full catastrophe living.” We approach life with courage and emunah, using our gifts and our challenges to achieve our full spiritual potential.

We approach marriage the same way. We accept its frustrations, disappointments, and challenges, along with its limitless blessings, under no illusion that some other person will be able to save us from our own responsibility to live with joy, gratitude, faith, equanimity, and a commitment to the bigger picture.

Our commitment is to ourselves, to joyfully live a life of purpose, dedicated to Hashem.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 780)

The post Commitment first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

I’m an extroverted guy who loves life, enjoys people, and is pretty exuberant. When I’m out on a date, I’m relaxed and don’t really engage in a lot of formality. If I see a piano, I might just sit down and play, and if a girl looks distracted, I’ll sometimes ask her straight out, “Was I boring you?”

I like to think that I’m still well within the bounds of being appropriate, and it’s not like I don’t have any filters. But I’ve been told that I need to tone it down, that I’m overwhelming the girls I go out with.

I’m really confused by that. This is who I am. Isn’t it weird to hide that while dating? And if a girl doesn’t appreciate this part of me — a part I really like — isn’t she just not for me?

Loud and Proud

Dear Loud and Proud,

I’m happy to announce that in addition to these two titles, you can also add the adjective “smart” to your self-description. Because while you loudly proclaim your right to “be myself” for the whole world to hear, you are also wise enough to consider another perspective and ask for guidance. So good for you! Let’s see if we can provide some of that guidance in a meaningful way.

I once heard a lecture from Wendy Shalit, author of A Return to Modesty. She made a statement that has stayed with me since. She said, “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” And that might have some value in this conversation.

Let’s start with the premise that if this is who I am, I want my date to know, and if she doesn’t like it, she’s not for me. Which seems to be a reasonable premise. And yet… you keep getting feedback that this isn’t working. So what’s the problem here?

Timing, my friend. Timing.

Imagine a young and devoted mother going on a job interview three months after her baby is born. Now, everyone knows by the soft glow in her eyes that this baby is her life. That she will inevitably miss work, because when this child has a fever, there’s no way she is going to let anyone else care for that sick baby besides her. And everyone knows that on many mornings she will be utterly useless at work until she has had her third cup of coffee. However, she is not going to mention any of those facts at the interview. Why? Because that’s not the right time to have that conversation. At an interview, her job is to showcase her strengths and what she can contribute to the position.

When you date, the assumption is that you are putting your best foot forward, especially in the beginning. As the relationship evolves, you peel away the layers of image carefully and mindfully and begin to share who you authentically are. Any time this process is rushed, it backfires, because there’s no shortcut to closeness. A relationship needs to ripen. Think of peeling a banana before it is ready. It just doesn’t taste right.

And that’s what’s going on here. The girls you date are left with a feeling of “that just ain’t right.” They may not be able to articulate what is off, but it doesn’t feel good. There’s a sense of “thou doth protest too much,” like you’re trying too hard to act comfortable when the relationship has not yet progressed to the comfortable stage.

Now you might say to me, “Hey, that’s not fair. I am that comfortable. It’s not my problem that she’s not.” Except that it is. Being socially functional means being able to read a room. And being in a relationship means having the intuition, and/or connection to another, to sense when it’s okay to move on to the next stage and share the next part of yourself.

If this only happened to you once, I’d say clearly this wasn’t a fit. But the fact that it’s a pattern that the good people in your life are pointing out makes me think this might be more about you. Something about the way you are expressing yourself is projecting an insecurity, and healthy people run from neediness. People who are truly self-confident don’t go around announcing, “I am self-confident.” Everything about them says it for them.

I’d urge you to look at the way in which you exhibit your exuberance. Is it too early? Is it unnatural in a way that makes it feel like too much? Does it reflect a need for validation that might make others uncomfortable?

Let’s differentiate between two things. You are not too much. You are awesome. It sounds like you have so many good qualities and a great energy that will make life for your spouse a lot of fun. Your challenge is to channel that spirit into the right time and place, and titrate it in a way that it is pleasant and a joy to receive, as opposed to being overwhelming. Think of it as sipping a Slurpee through a straw versus dumping a whole cup down your throat. Everyone loves a good Slurpee, but no one wants to swallow it whole, especially not first thing in the morning.

Wishing you and your dates a joyous experience as the real you emerges in a healthy, beautiful way!

All the best,

Sara

Sara Eisemann, LMSW, ACSW, is a licensed social worker and a dating mentor. She lectures on topics related to relationships, personal development, authenticity, and growth. She welcomes questions, comments, feedback, and interaction at  matchquest@mishpacha.com.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 780)

The post Why Should I Tone Down My Personality for My Dates? first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.