This week, my sister Chanee got married in South Africa. The following is an excerpt of my speech:
3 300 years ago, G-d made a most dramatic proposal of marriage to the Jewish people whilst they stood at the foot of Mount Sinai. In an elaborate gesture of romance, He suspended the mountain over their heads, declaring, “Today is our wedding day! If you agree to marry Me, you will receive the Torah and the Jewish nation will be born. If you reject Me, however, I will release this mountain and you will all die!”
Chassidus teaches us that this narrative does not imply that G-d physically held the mountain over their heads, but rather that He displayed His love so absolutely that the Jewish people could not resist His offer. When a man falls in love with a woman, he pursues her endlessly, lavishes her with gifts, wines and dines her until all her resistance melts away. Just like the Jewish nation, she, in a sense, is forced to marry him.
Close to one thousand years later, the Jewish people accepted G-d purely because they desired to, and not because they were forced to. It was during the Purim saga that “Kiy’mi vekiblu” – “they accepted what they had agreed to at Matan Torah.”
During that tumultuous period in their lives, when a most horrific decree of annihilation hung over their heads, the Jewish people turned to G-d with stark sincerity and pure devotion. Over the course of an entire year, the practice of Judaism in the kingdom of Persia held a penalty of death. It was against this backdrop, when G-d was almost totally concealed from them, that the Jewish nation reaffirmed their wedding vows. No mountain hovered above their heads, no thundering Heavenly voice demanded a union and no shattering displays of love coloured their vision, yet it was precisely at such a bland time that they accepted G-d and His Torah. The marriage was reinstituted out of pure love and nothing else, so it became more real and meaningful.
Every marriage follows a similar pattern. At the start there exists what we call “kol chatan vekol kalla” – “a special voice of the chatan and a special voice of the kallah.” Practically what this means is that during those early days when the love is overwhelming each spouse is exceptionally willing to go out of their way for the other. No arguments over who takes out the garbage, sweet nothings are murmured regularly, and tasty hot dinner is served at precisely 6pm. Each responds to the other with beautiful words and pleasant names, “Sure sweetheart I’ll mow the lawn three times over until you’re 100% satisfied!” the elated groom declares.
At a wedding we bless the couple that their entire lives should be permeated with the kol chatan vekol kalla. Reality hits once the glitz and glamour of the celebrations have died down, and it’s just plain Chosson and Kalla setting up a home and establishing a routine. It is during this monotonous flow that we bless them that their faces should always radiate the way they do now, their stares of longing and love should continuously be exchanged and the sounds of their sweet whispers should perpetually fill their ears. Because it is precisely when all the dazzle has been stripped away that each can best accept the other not because they have to, but because they want to.