Dress size and tablecloths: why 'absurd' shidduch questions say nothing about a Jewish home

Caution: questions about linen, tablecloths, food, the mother's clothing and how the garbage can is set up — and it is no accident that there are no questions about middos.

Such standards are superficial and destructive to dating; they speak about the asker's mindset, not about whether the two suit each other.

Caution: one shadchanit demanded a photo of the grandmother — the dress sizes of the girl and her mother were not enough for her; and ordinary yarmulke clips became grounds to accuse a young man of lying.

Both cases are brought as a critique of judging by external trivia.

A question about her dress size is over the line: an immodest interest in her figure, and the answer says nothing about compatibility; asking whether she is slim is legitimate if the young man knows he could not feel attraction to a noticeably heavy girl.

One's own ideas about looks are legitimate within reason.

Caution: a young man's mother, making inquiries, asked at what age the girl was toilet trained — a question like that says something about the asker, not the girl.

He might have ended up with a domineering mother-in-law, the author notes wryly, but a ridiculous mother he already had.

When the criterion is "a top learner" or "a size 2" regardless of middos, that is exactly the superficiality our grandparents would not have allowed themselves.

Secular ideas of the ideal spouse have crept into our homes and gone deeper than we think.

It is not only a women's story: young men themselves reinforce the belief that a dress size is the bride's main asset, while believing that a perfect shape in an expensive suit makes them a better "catch".

It is the same illness from the other side.

Ideas of beauty are learned from one's surroundings: for centuries fullness meant wealth, pale skin meant nobility; what seems inborn is learned — and can be retuned.

A young man raised in China would be simply stunned by the tall, fair-haired girl suggested in an American yeshivah.

Mirel asked her father to check that the young man had no peyos tucked behind his ears; half a year later her husband appeared with peyos — and she admitted it herself: what mattered so much before the wedding mattered so little after.

He had worn peyos since age three; the day before the meeting a strange barber cut one off, and he asked to cut the other.

About a young man who struggles in shidduchim because he is short — one question: "He can be included in a minyan, can't he?" Many such features affect neither middos, nor personality, nor the ability to live and act.

Rav Rabinovich's conclusion: one must not reject a candidate over them.

A candidate's imperfect English is plainly no reason to reject a suggestion: the fundamental considerations come first, and where everything else fits this flaw is of no consequence.

An answer to someone for whom this had become a reason to consider refusing.

A physical defect is not necessarily a reason to decline a shidduch.

He told the story of the imaginary hunchback as an example of the opposite: when a shidduch is not meant to be, even non-existent obstacles appear.

If this external thing were different, would my entire opinion of them change? Do I respect them, do they share my values?

Hair thins, style changes, and an unfamiliar look becomes the face of the person you love most; do not miss the essence over the packaging.

In shidduchim people decide for the wrong reasons — what will people say, is there enough money; from the outside it looks as if the person is at war with Heaven: the best, hand-picked partner is sent, and he pushes it away with all his might.

"Be wholehearted with Hashem": do not probe the future; take up the shidduch sent to you with hope and without prejudice.

Money and luxury have become our currency for judging a person; external measures — height, weight, money — cloud the sight like a cataract, and we, like consumers, accept nothing short of perfection.

An outstanding bachur is taught he commands a high price, and he dates for years, passing over wonderful girls.

An expensive car does not prove wealth, wealth does not prove generosity, and generosity does not prove being undemanding: check the trait that matters directly, through inquiries or a conversation on the date.

It is important not to create positive or negative traits that may not actually be there.

Do not push a child into the "best" school for the sake of future shidduchim: a less prestigious school may well be the very path by which the right shidduch comes.

An answer to parents asking whether special effort is worth it.

Did you ask if he would make a good husband?

It is the absence of this quality that makes the other advantages worthless.

In reply to praise of a young man's learning — "Is he a mentch?"

He puts decency above a list of outstanding achievements; Rav Yisroel Salanter asked the same.

"Smart" and "masmid" mean different things depending on who answers: factual questions give information, comparative ones do not.

Without a shared frame of reference she prefers concrete facts.

The general question whether he has good middos splits people into two groups and usually gives little useful information: most have both good traits and faults — you need what is particular to this person.

You need information that reveals what is particular to this person.

On money: start by asking how the person would describe their own spending habits, and know the same question will come back to you; asking what role you will play in the family income is fine, demanding a ten-year plan and specific salaries is not.

It is also fine to ask what the person expects from you financially.

Two phone calls are enough: you will hear whatever Hashem wants you to hear; if He does not want it, you will not hear it after thirty calls either.

Inquiries can take you only so far.

Ask at least three different people and check whether the essential traits repeat; subtract eighty percent of exaggerated praise.

This is his practical rule for weighing what people say.

Checking references and listening carefully is sensible, but chasing down everyone who could add an iota of information is not practical, or even advisable.

She disputes the idea that there can never be too many inquiries.