I once read a heartbreaking story about a woman in a dysfunctional marriage. The wife was slowly moving away from some of the strictures of their orthodox community. Her husband was very controlling and also behaving inappropriately online. For a long time, she had asked her husband to come with her to a rabbi specializing in shalom bayis issues. She was certain that if they spoke with the rabbi her husband would finally see reason. Finally, her husband agreed to the counselling.
“A smile sneaks up on me and I quickly look out the car window. It is okay to be hopeful, I tell myself, to be nervous, to look forward to my husband’s apologies on the way home, but I can’t make it too obvious. That would be insensitive, crass even. I imagine the rav kindly explaining that sholom bayis is more important than anything and that a husband’s main goal should be to preserve the relationship, above all else. He will emphatically repeat that last part, above all else. Maybe the rav will be more forceful, more specific. Maybe he will explain that cursing out your wife about Triangle-K-hechsher frozen vegetables in front of the kids is more of a problem than eating the vegetables themselves. Maybe he will explain that sending out email requests for pictures of girls in their panties is more of a problem than my bobby socks and knee-length skirts. That pas akum pretzels and cholov akum coffee are not issues to threaten divorce over. That questioning whether the Sun literally argued with the Moon in the first week of creation does not make your wife an apikorus. That more bees are caught with honey, or however that saying goes. A balloon of satisfaction and vengeance grows greedily within me as the images pile up, one on top of the other, but I kill it fast. Can’t be too arrogant, too presumptive, too eager.”
The wife was certain that her husband would be shamed in front of the rabbi after she revealed his behavior. Instead, the tables turned against her. The husband informed the rabbi that his wife had become meikil in certain areas of halacha, and that as a result, they were having shalom bayis problems. The rabbi, after grilling the wife over her acceptance of the authority of the Shulchan Aruch, gemara, and chumash declared their situation hopeless.
“But why is he asking me this? My mind goes into overdrive and I can’t think fast enough. How is this relevant? Why isn’t he asking about what problems we are having? Why is he asking me these ridiculous questions about authority? When are we going to talk about pas yisroel? Cholov akum? Sholom Bayis?….
Why is he asking all of this, all the wrong questions? Is he going to ask the right questions soon?
The rav stands up and sighs. He looks at both of us and I look down at my lap, not willing to meet his eyes. My denim skirt has little swirly designs and flowers. I try to focus on the patterns. He shakes his head. “I am sorry. I cannot help you. There is nothing I can do.” His voice is soft and gentle and it crashes all over me with the force of a fatal tidal wave, a deadly tsunami. He cannot help us. This is what I imagine oncologists say to terminally ill patients, not what a sholom bayis rav says to a wife. Biting my lip doesn’t work anymore and my shoulders start shaking. I try to squelch the sobs, but I can’t. Some people can control their tears well but I am not one of them. It is humiliating and I hate myself for breaking down. I press my fist in my mouth as a last attempt. The two men, my husband and my rabbi, watch me carefully and they are silent. The waves of pity are palpable, they surround me, strangle me, I cannot push them back. I take a deep breath once and once again.
The rav turns to my husband and speaks, slowly, haltingly. “Look, I don’t know how to help, but if she is being good and religious, maybe you can give her a reward. Maybe you can buy her something, buy her a dress. A nice dress for Yom Tov. ” My husband nods his head, I think. I cannot see well for all the tears in my eyes. I guess I will have a new wardrobe soon, with all those lovely dresses I have earned. This is too surreal for me and I stand up, choking on my words. “Thank you. I am sorry to have taken your time.” The rav nods sadly and walks us to the front door. The serenity and silence mock me as I fumble for the doorknob. I cannot get out quickly enough and walk out first, leaving them behind to their mutual mumbles of sympathy and encouragement.”
In this case, the wife went to a rabbi hoping that he would convince her husband to allow her more freedom and flexibility in her observance. She hoped to bring up the subject of her husband’s online behavior and shame him into stopping his dalliances. Instead, the rabbi and her husband ganged up against her, and the meeting became about her lapse in religiosity. She was blamed for their shalom bayis issues.
That’s the chance you take when you involve a third party in your marital disputes.
This morning, I read about another situation of a spouse hoping to coerce a desired outcome by consulting a rabbi. In this case, it was in the form of consulting a rabbi who writes an advice column in The Jewish News UK. The question posed to Rabbi Schochet was, Ask the Rabbi: ‘Should we have another child?’
A husband writes that he and wife are both in their early 40s and have two children. He would like more, but his wife, having suffered through two miscarriages, doesn’t want to go through another one. Also, her fears about increased risk for genetic issues, financial concerns, and the worry about having enough energy and love to raise a third child have cemented her decision to stop at two kids.
Apparently, her husband isn’t about to let the matter rest and felt the need to write a public letter asking the rabbi if they should have another child.
The rabbi sides with the husband.
“….I have often advocated here that however many children a couple decide on, they should always consider having one more.
I have met many past their childbearing years who regretted not having an additional child and wholeheartedly agree with your concerns of looking back in the years ahead with regret.
On balance, I am going to say to you the following: I think the medical risks can be assessed by a doctor.
I think the underlying emotional concerns needs to be addressed by the two of you in meaningful conversation. And then I think, if you can get past all that, you should have that one more child – for every child is indeed a blessing and adds so much more to the ambiance of the home, both materially and spiritually.
As my father (of blessed memory) used to say: “We have six million to make up for.” Oh, and don’t forget to invite me to the baby blessing ceremony.”
Ummm….hello! Did we miss the part about how the wife said she’s done! Invite him to the baby blessing ceremony? How are two men having a conversation about a woman’s fertility, and deciding that her arguments against having another baby aren’t valid? Will this rav’s “psak” change her mind about having a baby or will it only make her angry that her spouse won’t respect her decision?
Is bringing a rav in as a mediator to settle marital disputes merely a way to try and shame a spouse into capitulating to your demands?
