Matchmaker, modern matchmaker

Sholem Aleichem breathed life into her. Molly Picon gave her a voice. And she’s doing very well in the 21st century, thank you very much. Yente the Matchmaker’s spiritual heirs are still plying their wares using the web, interviews and, above all, their intuition to help create Jewish couples. Here’s a peek into their world.

Susan Shapiro never intended to be a matchmaker, but with five marriages under her belt, she writes in the Forward about her “Addiction to the Fine Art of Matchmaking.” Her career as an amateur matchmaker really began as a matter of necessity when it dawned on her that the guy she was dating “whose life’s dream was to drive a Lamborghini to his estate in the Hamptons” was a far better match for her friend Rachel. The two of them were married six months later. Now that Susan herself is married, she loves her role as matchmaker even more. “I get the voyeuristic thrill of dating and mating monthly without risking rejection, diseases or unwanted pregnancy.”

For an insightful portrait on how matchmakers have made the leap from the shtetl to the 21st century, check out Sharon Pomerantz’s Playing with Matches in Hadassah magazine. She tells the story of the resolve of one client and her matchmaker, Judi Ehrlich. “My longest-standing client was seven years. He met over 80 women and he married number 82,” she says. “People liked him and the fact that he kept persevering was encouraging. I’m glad he didn’t give up.”

Being a matchmaker has never been for the faint of heart. Suzanne Zettel explains that “In the very early days, the shadchan was essential to keep splintered and isolated communities alive during the time of persecution and pogroms around the medieval times. Shadchans risked their lives to travel treacherous roads in order to reach outlying communities and to keep the fabric of society alive.”

Like anyone entering a professional relationship, matchmaker and client need to understand the ground rules if they want to end up satisfied. Moshe Bellows is a rabbi and a personal and professional coach. He has prepared a fascinating, 14-point, “Shadchan Code of Responsibility.” Excerpts:

• Shadchan recognizes the many challenges facing those who are seeking shidduchim and agrees to try to be mindful of the inherent vulnerability of those involved in shidduch dating.

• Shadchan may give advice or insight but… shall not act as a counsellor or psychiatrist, unless he/she has the requisite professional skill and training in the area of question.

• Shadchan shall not overly stress physical or financial attributes. Instead, he/she shall stress qualities of character, piety, intelligence and competence that would lend permanence to a marriage and encourage a high degree of moral stability in the community.

• Shadchan shall make fee amount and expectation (if any) clear upon first interaction with potential client. This fee expectation and structure shall be in writing and signed by both shadchan and client.

Yes, the fee. Rabbi Berel Wein writes that “This is also a long-standing tradition in the Jewish world. The rabbinic responsa books are filled with records of disputes between shadchanim and their clients over the payment of fees. What if the couple becomes engaged and then later agrees not to marry? Is the shadchan nevertheless entitled to the fee?… The general opinion of the rabbis is that a shadchan is legitimately entitled to be paid a reasonable fee if the couple marries. In fact, the money of shadchanut is considered to be truly ‘kosher’ money, earned honourably in furthering the personal happiness of others and in the general public good.”

How much? Most matchmakers don’t list their fees online but people love to share. Here’s what Shimi Jay wrote at the Frum Divorced Singles Facebook page: “Depends on your financial situation – regular people give between $1,000-$1,500; the comfy people give $1,500-$2,000; the wealthy richies give from $2,500-$50,000, and a shadchun I know just got $50,000 so the answer is there is no real number.” Oh Yente!

Back in the prehistoric days before the web, if someone wanted to forgo a matchmaker and try to find love themselves (and maybe save a few bucks), they could turn to the classified ads. Some favourites from the Jewish and Israeli press:

• “Couch potato latke, in search of the right applesauce. Let’s try it for eight days. Who knows?”

• “Yeshiva bochur, Torah scholar, long beard, payos. Seeks same in woman.”

• “Desperately seeking shmoozing! Retired senior citizen desires female companion 70 for kvetching, kvelling, and krechtzing.”

• “Shul gabbai, 36. I take out the Torah Saturday morning. Would like to take you out Saturday night.”

• And this appeared in Boston’s alternative paper, The Phoenix: “Single Jewish woman seeks single Jewish man with dead mother.” 

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