A good friend of mine recently suffered the loss of his father, a distinguished Yid of much accomplishment.

At the levayah, my friend, who is a ben yochid, an only son, delivered a very emotional hesped. Before concluding, he said something that made a profound impression on me. What was his eye-opening comment? He told me, “People have been asking, ‘What can I do for your father? Can I give tzedakah in his memory to a mosad that he liked? Perhaps I should learn Mishnayos l’illui nishmaso.’”

With great passion, my friend continued, “This is only my own opinion, but if you really want to do something for my father’s neshomah, you should redd shidduchim. Boruch Hashem, my father had many grandchildren. He saw what they and their parents were going through during the parsha of shidduchim and it pained him greatly. So, if you really want to do something for my father, get out there, brainstorm, and redd shidduchim! Think about all the families that are suffering and try to alleviate that suffering by redding shidduchim. The very fact that someone is thinking of them, even if it doesn’t result in a shidduch, is a chizuk for them.”

For the last while since that levayah, I have been thinking about my friend’s hesped.

We Need Action

Everyone knows what the matzav is out there on the playing field. Whether we call it a crisis or not and whether we can or cannot pinpoint the exact demographic reason for the difficulties is just semantics, taking the focus away from the point. Instead of spurring people to action, it causes them to get caught up in debate.

Lemaaseh, we need action!

Especially now, during the yemei haSefirah. We all know that Rabi Akiva’s talmidim died during this period because they did not give each other the requisite honor. Now, no one should think for even a second that the heilige talmidim of Rabi Akiva called each other names or dealt with one another in a coarse manner. Not at all. The baalei mussar teach us that their deficiency was in a “dakus”—in their minds, they did not have the proper feelings of honor for one another.

From here we see that even if someone acts nicely toward another person, and even if someone cares, it is possible that he still does not have the proper feeling for another’s situation, and in Shomayim, that is not acceptable.

Shidduchim Are Not for the Faint of Heart

I hope readers will not take me to task for being a bit blunt, but if I may say so, many of us really do feel bad about the situation. We see an older single and we genuinely feel bad. We cluck our tongues and say, “Oy! She is such a good girl. She really needs a shidduch. I wish I had someone for her…” But then we move on with life.

Life is busy. One might think, “But I am not a shadchan.”

That is not enough. We are not yotzei by clucking our tongues, by feeling bad for a moment until the next call, text, or email comes in, and by saying, “Oy! She needs a shidduch.”

My aforementioned friend had only recently finished marrying off all his children after having been in the parsha of shidduchim for some twenty years and the trauma was still written all over him. His health had suffered terribly, his nerves were shot, and he is not the only one.

On a personal level, I have been involved in the parsha of marrying off my children for over a decade, and I still have a long way to go, and let me tell you, it is not for the faint of heart!

It isn’t only the difficulty of the actual nuts and bolts of shidduchim—of calling shadchanim, putting out feelers, then waiting and waiting and waiting for a shidduch to be redd.

Then, when a shidduch is finally redd, trying to get reliable information, sifting out the lies and half-truths that so many tell you (lesheim Shomayim, of course), being faced with rejection on most of the ideas before they even get underway…

Then, once they finally meet, the difficulties, the misunderstandings, the rejection for often illegitimate reasons…

But it is much deeper than that.

It is the anxiety. Think of a father and mother—or a girl—who hasn’t been redd a shidduch in a year or met with a boy in two years. (It is not uncommon.) The parents sit up at night and wonder: Is she ever going to get married? Will she be one of those wonderful forty-year-old accomplished women walking around unmarried?

The parents can’t help but think this way, and the girls themselves also can’t help but think this way. After all, it is not a dovor shelo ba l’olam. We see it happening in front of our eyes…

Feeling Others’ Pain…

It is not enough to know this cerebrally. You have to feel it—really feel the pain, the anxiety, the nightmare, and the heartache that they are going through. Really. Think about it. Really!

That being said, I truly know and understand that until a person feels the same pain, they are not really capable of feeling another’s pain. Even the greatest tzaddikim had difficulty with this, as illustrated by the following story about Rav Shayele of Kerestir. His son was gravely ill, and Rav Shayele was sitting in his room crying heavily.

The normal assumption would be that he was crying for his very sick son. But no. Rav Shayele dispelled that notion.

“The reason I am crying,” Rav Shayele explained to those around him, “is not because my son is unwell. Rather, it is because I always thought that I genuinely felt the pain of the Yidden who unburden their hearts to me, telling me their tzaros. I thought that I felt their pain as if it was my own pain, but now I see that my own tzarah bothers me a bit more. That is why I am crying!”

…Or At Least Taking a Moment to Think About Them

So yes, it is extremely difficult to truly feel another’s pain. That being said—and I speak for myself as well—every single one of us can take a few minutes to think about what thousands of parents and girls (and some boys) are going through as they wait and wait, trying to carry on with a productive life. Think about how difficult it is for them to get up every day, get dressed, put on their best face, and then face the world with all its expectations and judgment.

Rabbosai, my dear readers, male and female, it is not enough to just cluck your tongue and feel bad. Feeling bad is only a first step—and a very small first step. We must translate those feelings into action. Get out there, network, and redd shidduchim. Don’t be bashful! Don’t say, “I am not a shadchan,” and don’t feel bad if you get brushed off the first, second, and third time. That is all part of the process.

Call to Action

Im ein ani li mi li. B’makom she’ein ish. These are not just nice sayings or phrases. They are meant to be used in situations such as this, when there are thousands of singles among us, wonderful people waiting for someone to think about them and redd them a shidduch. It is a chovas tzibbur. Nothing less.

My friend was right. Yes, giving tzedakah l’illui nishmas and all of the other things people do are amazing, but if you really want to help Hashem’s children, if you really want to partner with Hashem and do a chesed with the chaim and the meisim, take a moment to think about all of the thousands upon thousands of wonderful families in our midst and what they are going through and do something about it. They are our relatives, our friends, our neighbors—all of the above.

This issue is close to home for virtually everyone.

Think about the pain, the suffering, the uncertainty, and the anxiety. Think deeply about the worst-case scenario that so many are dreading and worrying about with trepidation and do something.

I want every reader who is reading this article to stop. Please don’t turn the page yet. I want you to think about what is written here and internalize it. Try to put yourself in the place of a girl, a boy, and their parents, and picture what they are going through. Use your imagination.

Redd a shidduch today! Network! Get busy. No excuses.