This week, I had one of those Divinely inspired moments. The kind where you hear angels humming in the background and you think, “OMG. This is a message straight from Hashem!”
What happened? I met a young man, and only a few minutes into our conversation I realized he would be perfect for my niece. He was sweet, refined, intelligent, and articulate, and I was sold.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Really, rabbi? That fast?”
But yes. That fast.
Although I was meeting this young man for the first time, I know his family extremely well.
His parents? Wonderful. In fact, I studied with his father in yeshiva 30 years ago and I know he has a heart of gold - a genuinely nice person.
His grandparents? Incredible people. Tzaddikim. I’ve known them for so long, they've even worked in our Chabad center.
His siblings? I know them too! I could write their résumés myself.
And as for my niece, I know her like the back of my hand. I’ve watched her grow up. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, thoughtful, loyal - someone who deserves only the best.
And suddenly, here he was right in front of me.
I was sure they were perfect for each other! They have similar personalities, they think the same way, they share the same values, and I knew the families would get along fabulously. Truly, a match made in heaven.
My mind raced and I could see it all so clearly. A delightful first date followed quickly by a second, third, and fourth. I knew they would connect quickly and deeply.
I could already picture the poignant chuppah, electric dancing, and the unrestrained joy of two beautiful families celebrating the union of their children with dozens of friends streaming in to dance and wish mazal tov. I’d even mentally started organizing the seating chart!
“Thank you, Hashem,” I thought. “You dropped this shidduch right into my lap. Bringing people together is such a rare and precious mitzvah, and you made this one so easy!”
So, I sprang into action and called my niece’s parents. “I have a shidduch,” I declared, with so much enthusiasm.
I sang the family’s praises, told them how amazing this young man’s background is. Sure, I don’t know him personally, but that’s what due diligence is for, right?
They were excited and on board, so I called the boy’s parents.
I cleared my throat, channeling my inner matchmaker, and said, “I have a great suggestion for your son. I think he and my niece would be perfect together.”
There was a long pause, and then they said, “Oh … that’s very sweet of you. He actually got engaged last week. The wedding is in a few weeks.”
Now, that is indeed a problem for my niece.
“Ah, just a small technicality then,” I quipped as we hung up.
And just like that, my wedding fantasies, guest lists, and seating charts crumpled in an instant.
So close, but so … already taken.
Even though nothing had happened beyond a phone call, my disappointment came on strong. But as I thought about it, I realized that’s just the work of the Yetzer Hara—the evil inclination.
Every single one of us was once part of a whole soul. We lived blissfully in heaven, perfectly united. And then one day, Hashem looked at us and said, “I’m going to split you into two - half will descend as a male, and the other half as a female.”
And so, the soul split.
Ever since then, we walk the earth as half a person, searching for our other half. We look, and we hope, and we try - longing for that moment of reunion. And when we do finally marry, our souls rejoice on a cosmic level. We’re whole again.
This isn’t a metaphor. It’s real.
But here’s the thing: It doesn’t happen on its own. We have to make the effort. We have to try.
And trying means sometimes - or often - failing. But if we don’t try? We’ll definitely fail.
So don’t stop suggesting. Don’t stop setting people up. Don’t stop believing that every person has their other half out there somewhere - waiting to be found.
You never know which idea might just be the one that leads to a lifetime of happiness.
As for me? I’ll be ready next time - phone in hand, dancing shoes polished - just in case the next Divine spotlight really does lead to a wedding.