Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
July 1, 2005
Say "Amen" to Each Other
A number of you have gathered here tonight because of Ruth and Josh’s upcoming wedding. Nancy and I are delighted that family and friends have traveled considerable distances to share with our Temple Family in our simcha. Weddings truly are joyous occasions, and Jewish weddings are replete with symbols. Tonight I would like to speak with you about just two of those symbols, the ones most often associated with a Jewish wedding by both Jews and non-Jews.
The first is probably the most obvious - the chupah, the wedding canopy. It can be a canopy of flowers or cloth or a prayer shawl spread over the couple on four poles, which either stand on their own or are held up by friends and relatives.
The groom and bride are escorted to the chupah by their parents. Customarily, the groom is escorted to the chupah first, then the bride. As his bride approaches the canopy, the groom steps forward to greet her as he would royalty. Careful, Josh – Ruth relishes this role.
The marriage takes place before aydim, witnesses. This is to signify that the couple is not just getting married for themselves; their union forges a new link in the chain of Jewish generations. They are not getting married just for themselves, but for the Jewish People.
And the wedding is not just for the bride and groom, but also for their parents. It signifies that their parents have successfully completed one of the major tasks incumbent upon Jewish men and women – to raise their children in such a way that they will one day be married under a chupah. So in a certain sense the wedding represents the parents’ graduation; they have successfully fulfilled one of their charges, to make sure that Jewish generations do not end with them.
Obviously Sunday is a special graduation day then for Nancy and me. Number three of three, and each under a chupah with a Jewish mate. Let me say clearly, friends, that there is a great deal of mazel involved in that kind of result. Of course, we have worked hard to exemplify the importance of a Jewish home to our children; but so have many other parents, yet their adult children have made different choices. So we recognize how truly fortunate we are.
Our good fortune also extends to our mechutanen, and we are delighted that Debbie and Jerry Alexander, and Gail and Howard Urbach join Andy Balber here in our sanctuary for the first time. We consider ourselves truly blessed that all our children have picked parents-in-law who are good and special people whose company Nancy and I thoroughly enjoy.
It is even more a matter of mazel today than it was in the period of arranged marriages. I used to believe in arranged marriages and questioned why we Jews ever abandoned this time-honored system. A number of years ago, when Aaron thought he wanted to start dating, I decided to engage a shadchen , a marriage broker. I’m a professional, I know the advantages of experience, so I employed pro to find a good partner for Aaron. He came back to me and said: I think I found a good match." So he and I went to meet the girl. I must admit I was more than disappointed; I was furious. I pulled the shadchen, the marriage broker, aside and whispered: "Some girl you got me! She dropped out of school, her nose is broken, she is knock-kneed, and she is missing two front teeth!".
The shadchen said: "You don’t have to whisper; she’s deaf too."
That experience soured me on arranged marriages, and I salute all three of our children’s choices.
Traditionally the purpose of the chupah was to create a separate space beneath the stars. The reason for arranging the chupah under the stars was as a symbolic gesture by the community to bless the couple with as many children "as there are stars in the heavens." The cost of children’s higher education was much different then.
Additionally, the chupah has been said to symbolize the tent into which Isaac brought his wife Rebekkah, or the sukkah which God spreads over God’s children. The chupah also can represent the rainbow which, you remember, is the sign of the covenant God made with creation at the time of Noah. The rainbow was to be an eternal reminder of the inseparable bond between God and creation.
The rainbow is made up of all the primary colors of the universe, each distinguished and unique. The rainbow is not a blending of colors, for this would in fact rob it of color, leaving only white. Rather the rainbow is a harmony of color, each maintaining its uniqueness yet somehow working together with all the other colors to create something more wondrous than any one color is on its own.
And so it is with bride and groom. Each of you is unique; each of you has your own background, your own dreams, feelings, and values. You do not love in order to erase your uniqueness, but to enhance it. Through love you learn to work in harmony with one another, to create a rainbow of possibilities so that your world will be a brighter and more harmonious place.
But most popularly the chupah stands for the couple’s newly established home, yet that seems a bit strange since the chupah has a roof but no sides. Therefore, there are a lot of different explanations about the symbolic walls of a chupah. My beloved predecessor, Rabbi Norbert Rosenthal, zichrono livrachah, insightfully explained what he hoped the four walls would represent. So imagine the chupah here on this bima, with Rabbi Rosenthal addressing the bridal couple before him. First of all, he said that the wall behind the couple – where you are – represents the community. It stands for the people you love and for the service you wish to render to others.
To your right is another wall which is the one closest to the menorah. It is the wall of growth and learning. Both Josh and Ruth are good students and intellectually curious, interested in a variety of topics. May that always continue.
The wall facing the ark, of course, is the wall of faith. It is the sense of reverence which is needed in every home. It is your appreciation for our traditions and heritage.
And finally, the wall to your left is closest to your heart because it represents the world of personal love. It is the private world that belongs to bride and groom alone, a world of special tenderness and mutuality, of loving gestures and remembrances, of interlocking experiences. It is a reminder that you cannot talk any longer about "mine and his", or "mine and hers" – you have to speak about "ours." Our special world. Ruth and Josh, may you create such a home.
Now rabbis, ministers, and priests often wax eloquent about the foundation of the new home being "love." And Ruth, you recall from your Confirmation studies with me that when we discussed marriage, I shared a rather unromantic view and downplayed reliance on love. You were not supposed to go home and tell your mother what I said; that caused me some grief, dear. I teach that section a little bit differently now. Let me explain.
As Ruth and Josh stand at the threshold of their married life, they undoubtedly see Sunday’s wedding ceremony as the culmination of their love for each other. Throughout your relationship, which was a long courtship, you have come to love each other more and more. You have discovered new facets, new depths, new angles, of your mutual love. Occasionally you probably think: we can’t possibly ever hope to love each other more than we do now. Then you have been thrilled to discover another level, a new dimension of your love for one another. So on your wedding day you may wonder if any couple has ever shared as intense a love as the two of you share. I want you to know that your wedding day does not mark the pinnacle of your love, but rather the dawn of a whole new period of mutual affection.
In the morning and evening service of the synagogue, the Sh’ma Yisrael, the watchword of our faith, is preceded by a bracha whose theme is love, the love between God and Israel. But, each time, different facets of the love between God and Israel are mentioned.
In the morning service, we speak of ahavah rabbah – great love, intense love, euphoric love – perhaps a perfect description of what the two of you feel for one another this weekend. This is the type of love that existed between Israel and its God at the dawn of their relationship – in the period of the exodus and God’s revelation at Sinai. Perhaps at no time was the feeling of love between God and Israel more intense, more novel, more strikingly felt.
But the euphoria could not have lasted forever. The intensity of that love could not continue to that degree every succeeding moment of Israel’s history. So the bracha in the evening service speaks of a different kind of love, ahavat olam – eternal love, lasting love, the love between God and Israel not dependent on the intensity which immediately followed the splitting of the Sea of Reeds or the dramatic occurrences which the people witnessed at Mount Sinai. Ahavat olam developed after Sinai and resulted from the institution of mitzvot – of obligations, responsibilities, daily acts which structured the bond between God and God’s people.
This is not to say that there were not many moments of ahavah rabbah between God and Israel; those euphoric feelings continue to exist both on a national and a personal level. Jews as a people and individual Jews continue to experience ahavah rabbah. But with the structure of mitzvot, with behaviors which reflect and reinforce the mutual responsibility and interdependence of God and Israel, Jewish life was able to develop and sustain ahavat olam – a love which in its own way is as sublime and profound as ahavah rabbah.
And so it is on your wedding day. Filled with ahavah rabbah for one another, you are about to participate in the creation of a new Jewish home. Yes, God willing, you will continue to experience ahavah rabbah from time to time, but know that your life together will not be constant chocolate and flowers. The euphoric love you feel this weekend cannot and should not be expected to be felt at every moment of every day of your lives together. There will be lows to match the highs; there will be problems and struggles and challenges which will occasionally eclipse the storybook love which you feel at this moment.
But throughout those experiences the obligations of marriage which you undertake, the structures of mutual responsibility and interdependence to which you commit yourselves this weekend, the experiences of creating a Jewish home, of building a life together, of one day – God willing – raising Jewish children together, will help you to develop your own avahat olam, your own love of such lasting significance and such profundity which even you cannot fully anticipate today.
We come to the second symbol. Toward the end of the wedding ceremony, I shall ask Josh to break a glass under his heel. This strange and unusual custom at a Jewish wedding has elicited the curiosity of both Jewish and non-Jewish onlookers. It has been explained in many ways – all fanciful, for no one is completely sure pf its purpose and origin.
Many scholars believe that the ritual originated in ancient days when Jews regularly adapted customs from their pagan neighbors and embellished them with Jewish spiritual symbolism. Those were superstitious times and people believed that demons, evil spirits, were attracted to joyous occasions. So, to keep the demons away, the groom would tread on the glass, throw it on the ground, even shatter it against a wall; still full of wine, the glass might have been thrown at a wall as an offering, or perhaps the breaking of expensive glassware was seen as a sacrifice.
By Talmudic times, more rational reasons were offered for this rite. Sages believed that even at the height of happiness we should recall that joy is ephemeral and should "rejoice with trembling" as it is written in Psalm Two, verse 11. Again, I remind you, Ruth and Josh, that life has its discordant notes; problems will arise, difficulties will appear. The breaking of the glass reminds us of the fragility of all things. Wedding presents wear out and are broken, sickness can break the body, everything fades and falls to pieces – youth, success. The shattering glass symbolizes the sadness of life; there is no unalloyed joy, no happiness unmarred by tears. It is easy to find happiness together when the glass of life is full to the brim. The test of love is when the glass is broken and the couple must face trouble together. But I don’t want to overdo this point. We have non-refundable deposits on a number of things for Sunday, and I would hate to so frighten you that you change your minds. Let me hasten to add that, of course, an abiding love can surmount all of these challenges.
The pastor of a big city church ran an ad for a caretaker/housekeeper. The next day a well-dressed young man appeared at the pastor’s door. But before he could say more than "Hello, I came to see about . . ." the pastor began questioning him.
"Can you sweep? Make beds? Shovel walks? Run errands? Fix meals? Balance a checkbook? And babysit?".
"Whoa!" the young man said. "I only came to see about getting married. If it is that much work, I am not interested."
It is that much work. And marriage is not a 50/50 proposition. Caring for each other’s welfare is a commitment to give 100% of one’s self. That is what the breaking of the glass symbolizes with its startling sound. Suddenly you become a family, a household, creators of a new Jewish home. It is not one living for himself or herself, but for each other. I remind you that the word "wedding" starts with "we."
And it is not as one woman boasted to her friends that "we are the ideal married couple – we have never had a harsh word between us because of one simple arrangement. In the morning I do as I want and in the afternoon my husband does as I want."
After the 14th century, breaking the glass at a wedding was interpreted as a sign of mourning for the destruction of Jerusalem and the Holy Temples. No Jew, even in the moment of his and her greatest joy, may forget the ancient sorrows of our People. As we remember the grievous past, we become partners in the process of preserving and perpetuating Jewish life wherever we live. May our efforts redound to the benefit, the well-being, the welfare, of our People.
The explanation of the breaking of the glass which I like best compares marriage to a beautiful piece of cut glass. Glass is different from almost anything else – metal tarnishes and rusts, wood decays and rots – but a beautiful piece of cut glass, even hundreds of years old, is every day fresh and beautiful. New hues and colors can be seen in it; it does not age. It is eternally fresh and new.
However there is one problem with a beautiful piece of cut glass. It is very fragile. If you let it slip through your hands and fall to the ground it will shatter into a million pieces. And reactive repair is much harder than proactive care.
It is the same with marriage, Ruth and Josh. Every day fresh things can be discovered; new and beautiful hues can be seen. But marriage is very fragile. Unless it is based on mutual respect and kindness, it can slip through your hands and break. May you lovingly cherish and protect your relationship at all times.
From approaching the chupah to glass-breaking, the Jewish wedding ceremony is amen-saying. The Hebrew word "amen" means "I will stand firm, I will be loyal." Through the difficulties and joys of marriage, my dear children, you promise to stand loyally beside each other, to say "amen" to each other. Kayn y’hi ratzon, with God’s help and protection, may you make it so. Amen.
I utilized ideas of Rabbis Rami Shapiro, David Abramson, and Joseph Radinsky in preparing this message.
