DATING FORUM

By: Baila Sebrow

Question

I read your last two articles on dating. Regarding the one with the man who was dating an addict that had been sober just over a year, the girl is an addict. Once an addict, always an addict. She sounds highly dysfunctional and while I’ve not gone out with a drug addict, I did have the displeasure of dating someone who was highly dysfunctional before I met my wife. When you are with a dysfunctional person, you do dysfunctional things. That doesn’t excuse the behavior, but it explains it partially. When I met my wife all of that craziness ceased to occur because my wife is normal. The best advice to that guy dating the woman who has been sober for 13 months is run and do not look back.

As for the girl who went to public school, I think her parents have every right to be angry. She could be a very fine girl, but if that were my son, the girl would have to come up with more than just brushing it off by saying she left a frum school because they were mean to her. If you’ve gone to public school and you want to stay in the frum marriage pool, you better have a good story.

As much as we want to judge the person for their manners, middos, and tznius, things like where they went to school, what their parents do, if their parents are married or divorced, and if they were a drug addict matter. This might anger you and I expect that it does. But what we are dealing with here is a dilemma between what we say and what we do, which I call the “IS/OUGHT” dilemma. [Which psychologists call the “say-do” gap that stems from hypothetical ideals and tangible, real-world pressures when faced with a moral choice.] Sure, we ought not judge people based on where they went to school, what their parents do, and if their parents are still married, or if they had or have an addiction, but when faced with such a moral choice, even if we say we don’t judge them, we do. Why?

Because we’re busy. We don’t have time to dig into every reference and hear every story and judge every candidate by what’s in their heart. My children will likely be getting married in the near future, and if I have any influence over their decisions, there are certain things I would strongly discourage. Addiction problems? An immediate no. A public-school background? An immediate no. Serious eating disorders such as bulimia or anorexia nervosa? Also, an immediate no.

Could such standards cause me to overlook a diamond in the rough? Perhaps. But I believe the greater risk lies in overlooking serious warning signs and mistaking compassion for compatibility.

Do I have compassion and empathy for people facing these challenges? Absolutely. But compassion does not require inviting someone else’s unresolved problems into your own life, particularly through the lifelong commitment of marriage.

My children have only one life to live. They have one opportunity to make their first marriage their only marriage. I want them to enter that commitment with their eyes wide open, choosing a partner who shares their values, brings stability to their lives, and gives them the strongest possible foundation for a happy and enduring marriage.

Marriage is not a rehabilitation project, nor is it an exercise in wishful thinking. It is a lifelong partnership, and the stakes are too high to ignore serious concerns. We get one life, and the decisions we make can echo through all the years that follow. Essentially…forever.

Response

Thank you for taking the time to write and share your perspective so candidly. Your letter raises important questions about how we evaluate prospective shidduchim, how much weight we should give to a person’s background, and where we draw the line between exercising sound judgment and making assumptions about people. I appreciate your willingness to articulate a position that many parents only privately share.

Marriage is a serious commitment, and parents want to protect their children from avoidable heartache. No parent wants to see a daughter or son enter a marriage that becomes a source of instability, emotional pain, or disappointment. We should never minimize legitimate concerns simply because discussing them makes us uncomfortable. However, I believe we must examine the assumptions underlying some of the standards you propose. Protecting our children is a responsibility. Condemning people based on categories is not necessarily protection.

Let us begin with the young lady who has reportedly been sober for thirteen months. You write, “Once an addict, always an addict,” and recommend that the man end the relationship immediately. Addiction is a serious matter. It can affect judgment, relationships, emotional regulation, finances, trust, and family life. Recovery may require sustained effort, professional support, and a willingness to confront the circumstances that contributed to the addiction. A person considering marriage with someone with a history of substance use should not ignore these realities. Nor should a shadchan minimize legitimate concerns simply because someone is trying to rebuild their life. However, there is an important distinction between acknowledging the seriousness of addiction and declaring that a person who has struggled with it is permanently defined by it. Recovery is not the same for everyone. Thirteen months of sobriety, by itself, does not tell us everything we need to know about a person’s stability, accountability, or readiness for marriage. There are many more specific questions. Has the individual acknowledged the problem? Is she engaged in an appropriate recovery program or receiving professional support? Has she demonstrated sustained stability? Has she taken responsibility for the consequences of her past behavior? Does she demonstrate honesty, emotional maturity, and healthy boundaries? Is she prepared to address the ways her history could affect a future marriage? These are serious considerations that may require professional guidance and careful, appropriate inquiry. A history of addiction is relevant. It is not a complete assessment of a person’s present character or future potential.

You also describe your own experience dating someone you considered highly dysfunctional before meeting your wife. You observed that when you entered a healthier relationship, the craziness you had experienced previously ceased. Your experience is meaningful to you, and it illustrates how relationship dynamics can affect people’s behavior. However, we must be careful not to conclude that a healthy partner automatically resolves another person’s dysfunction. A stable relationship can encourage growth, but a spouse cannot be expected to function as a therapist, recovery program, or rehabilitation center. Marriage is not a substitute for addressing serious personal difficulties. That is precisely why the question should not be whether we feel sorry for someone who has struggled. Compassion does not require us to ignore risk. Discernment does not require us to deny someone the possibility of growth.

Your second example concerns a young woman who left a frum school and attended public school. You believe her parents have every right to be angry, and you would expect her to offer more than an explanation that she left because people at her frum school were unkind to her. I agree that educational background can be relevant in shidduchim. Where a person was educated, the environment in which that person grew up, and the values that shaped his or her development may provide useful information. Parents are entitled to consider whether a prospective spouse shares their child’s religious commitments, lifestyle, expectations, and vision for a Jewish home. But attending public school does not, in itself, establish that a person lacks religious commitment, good middos, or the ability to build a frum home. We must ask what actually happened. Did the student leave because of bullying? Were their educational needs not being met? Did her family face financial or personal circumstances that influenced the decision? Did the move reflect a change in religious observance, or was it primarily an educational decision? A young woman who attended public school may have remained deeply committed to Torah and mitzvos. Another individual may have experienced a significant change in religious outlook. Still another may have a complicated history that requires a more thorough understanding. The educational label alone cannot tell us which situation applies. Of course, she should be honest about her background. If there are questions about her current religious observance, hashkafah, or expectations for marriage, those questions deserve clear answers. But there is a difference between asking reasonable questions and prosecuting someone for having taken a different path. A person’s past circumstances may explain how she arrived at the present. What matters for marriage is who she is today, what she believes, how she behaves, and what kind of home she hopes to build.

Your most compelling argument concerns the difference between what ought to happen and what actually happens. You are correct that families often consider factors beyond an individual’s character. In the frumshidduch world, educational background, family reputation, parental marital status, religious observance, medical history, and other personal circumstances may influence whether a suggestion is pursued. We can disagree about whether each consideration is fair, but we cannot pretend these considerations never arise. Parents are busy. Shadchanim manage large numbers of suggestions. Families may have limited information and little time to investigate every detail. When faced with uncertainty, they often rely on familiar indicators to help them make decisions. That is the reality. But the fact that this practice exists does not establish that the practice is always justified. If a family automatically rejects every candidate who attended public school, they may never discover whether a particular individual shares their values. If a family refuses to consider anyone whose parents are divorced, they may overlook a person who has developed remarkable emotional maturity despite difficult family circumstances. If a person with a history of addiction is automatically dismissed without any consideration of recovery, present stability, or individual circumstances, a family may be making a decision based on a category rather than an informed assessment. None of this means that families must disregard the information they receive. It means they should examine what that information actually tells them.

The “IS/OUGHT” dilemma should not become justification for preserving every existing practice simply because it is common. We should ask not only what people do, but why they do it, what their decisions are based on, and whether those decisions serve the goals they claim to prioritize. If the goal is to help our children build healthy, strong marriages, then our screening practices should be designed to identify genuine compatibility. They should not merely reproduce familiar assumptions.

One of the greatest challenges in shidduchim is distinguishing between a genuine warning sign and a label that causes us to make assumptions. A warning sign is information that may indicate risk to a future relationship. A label is a category that may or may not tell us much about the individual standing before us. Sometimes, a label points to a legitimate concern. A documented pattern of dishonesty, substance abuse, serious behavioral problems, or a fundamental incompatibility in religious values may warrant ending a shidduch. But the label alone is not always enough to establish that such a problem exists.

Consider the difference between saying, “This person has a history of addiction and has not demonstrated sufficient stability for marriage,” and saying, “This person has struggled with addiction, so there is no point in considering her.” The first statement identifies a concern that can be evaluated. The second assumes that the outcome has already been determined. Similarly, consider the difference between saying, “This young woman and my son may have incompatible religious expectations,” and saying, “She attended public school, so she is not suitable.” The first focuses on compatibility. The second treats educational history as a substitute for examining the individual.

It is also important to recognize that not every concern can be resolved through additional dating or investigation. Some problems are serious enough that a family should decline a suggestion without proceeding further. No one should feel obligated to take a risk merely to demonstrate compassion or open-mindedness. The objective is not to eliminate standards. The objective is to make sure our standards are connected to the qualities and circumstances that actually matter.

You explain that your children will likely be getting married in the not-too-distant future. If you have influence over their decisions, you would strongly discourage matches involving addiction, a public-school background, or serious eating disorders such as bulimia or anorexia. I understand the instinct behind this position.

Parents have spent years raising their children, guiding them, protecting them, and hoping that they will find happiness. When marriage approaches, it is natural to want to prevent avoidable suffering. Parents also have legitimate concerns about conditions that can affect a marriage. Active substance abuse, an untreated eating disorder, or another serious concern can have significant implications for both partners. These issues should not be trivialized. However, we must distinguish between a condition that is currently creating substantial risk and a history that has been successfully addressed.

An eating disorder, for example, can be a serious and potentially life-threatening illness. A person experiencing active symptoms may need professional treatment and additional support before marriage is advisable. But a person who received treatment years ago and has maintained stability is not necessarily in the same position. The same principle applies to other personal difficulties. A family can reasonably ask questions about present functioning, treatment, recovery, and readiness for marriage without assuming that a past diagnosis or struggle permanently determines someone’s future.

And what of the young woman who attended public school? That is not a medical condition or a behavioral diagnosis. It is an educational history. Its relevance depends on the circumstances, the person’s current values, and the compatibility of the two individuals. Placing all three categories into one list of automatic disqualifications overlooks important differences between them. Parents should guide their children. They should share their concerns and encourage appropriate questions, but that is not the same as imposing categorical rules that prevent a son or daughter from evaluating a person as an individual. Ultimately, a marriage belongs to the two people entering it. Parents can offer wisdom and perspective, but their role should include helping their children think clearly rather than supplying a list of people they must never consider.

There is one point where I strongly agree with you. Compassion does not automatically make two people compatible. We may feel sympathy for a person who has endured hardship, but that doesn’t mean that person is the right spouse for our child. Marriage is not a charity project or a rehab program. It is not an opportunity to prove that we are unusually accepting or that our love can overcome every obstacle. A person should not enter a marriage believing that a spouse will repair unresolved emotional wounds, cure an addiction or an illness, or transform fundamental differences in values.

We cannot know everything about a person from a résumé, a school name, a family reputation, or a few references. Nor can we guarantee a successful marriage by eliminating every candidate who does not fit our predetermined criteria. A person can appear perfect on paper and still prove to be a poor spouse. Another person may have a complicated background and nevertheless possess the integrity, maturity, and values necessary for an excellent marriage. This does not mean that we should ignore what we know. It means we should be careful about confusing what we know with what we merely assume. Your argument rests on an understandable fear that your children might overlook a serious warning sign and suffer the consequences for the rest of their lives. But there’s a problem with the idea that sufficient screening can guarantee a successful outcome; marriage always involves uncertainty. We can investigate a person’s background, speak with their references, and seek professional advice when necessary. These steps can help us make better decisions, but they cannot eliminate every risk.

A person with an unblemished background may develop a serious illness. Someone who appears emotionally stable may respond poorly to the pressures of marriage. Two people can discover an incompatibility that neither anticipated. Circumstances can change in ways no one could have predicted. Conversely, someone who has faced significant challenges may have developed resilience, self-awareness, and a deep appreciation for the responsibilities of marriage. I’m not proposing that we should romanticize adversity. Hardship does not automatically make a person stronger or more suitable for marriage. But neither should we assume that the absence of adversity is proof of character.

The question is not whether we can find a prospective spouse who has never experienced difficulty. The question is whether we can find someone whose values, character, and readiness for marriage make a healthy partnership possible. That is a more meaningful standard than attempting to eliminate every person whose history makes us uncomfortable.

You acknowledge that your standards might cause you to overlook a diamond in the rough. Nevertheless, you believe that the greater danger lies in overlooking warning signs and mistaking compassion for compatibility. My response is that there is no need to choose between those two extremes. We can take warning signs seriously without treating every unconventional background as a warning sign. And we can advise our children to exercise caution without teaching them that every person who falls outside a prescribed profile is unworthy of consideration. The real challenge is not to become less discerning. It is to become more discerning. That means looking beyond labels while paying close attention to behavior. It means distinguishing between past and present, between a resolved difficulty and an ongoing problem. What matters is that the decision be grounded in relevant information rather than fear alone.

You conclude with a powerful sentiment: “We get one life, and the decisions we make can echo through all the years that follow.” You want your children to enter marriage with their eyes open, choosing partners who share their values, bring stability to their lives, and are prepared to build a healthy home. I agree. Marriage deserves seriousness, honesty, and careful judgment. But caution is not the same as condemnation.

Our children deserve protection, but they also deserve the chance to make informed decisions based on reality rather than stereotypes. And every person in the shidduch process deserves to be judged as an individual, not reduced to the most difficult chapter of his or her life. In shidduchim, discernment is essential; so is fairness. The wisest approach is neither automatic acceptance nor automatic rejection, but thoughtful judgment grounded in truth. 

Baila Sebrow is president of Neshoma Advocates, communications and recruitment liaison for Sovri-Beth Israel, executive director of Teach Our Children, and a shadchanis and shidduch consultant. Baila also produces and hosts The Definitive Rap podcast for 5townscentral.com, vinnews.com, Israel News Talk Radio, and WNEW FM 102.7 FM HD3, listenline and talklinenetwork.com. She can be reached at [email protected].