Having spent many of my formative years in summer camps, I’ve become a huge advocate of camp – so much so that I’ve continued working in camp settings well into my adult years. When done right, camp changes us. It challenges us to step beyond the sheltered boxes to which we’ve grown comfortable. We’re immersed in nature, learn to form friendships, and begin trusting ourselves because we see that others trust in us. We also become more responsible, learn how to share spaces with others, and discover how to navigate difficult experiences. And we begin developing our own sense of self and personal values, separate from our family systems. In more ways than I can count, I grew into the person I am today because of the camps I was blessed to be a part of over the years.
For many of those summers, I was privileged to work at Camp HASC, a summer program in the Catskills for children and adults with developmental or physical complexities. And the longer I find myself “in the parsha,” the more I’ve come to appreciate just how relevant and impactful the “HASC hashkafa” truly is, and how it extends far beyond the gates of camp.
In the wake of the Jewish people’s collective wedding anniversary on Shavuos, I offer five dating mindsets that I’ve gleaned from those summers – for those of us still on the journey toward our chuppah, and those genuinely offering support along the way. Each lesson that follows is paired with a realistic scenario that could likely occur in camp. They reflect gaps I’ve come to notice through my own dating experiences, areas in which I believe we can do better. All names used are pseudonyms to protect individuals’ privacy and dignity.
Lesson 1: Having the Right Focus
On Visiting Day, Sruli’s parents were a bit disappointed to see him dressed in mismatched, partially inside-out clothing. After initial smiles, embraces, and catch-ups, Sruli’s parents were surprised to hear the praises his counselors were sharing. At the beginning of camp, Sruli struggled to dress himself, and would randomly remove various garments throughout the day. With sensitive and loving encouragement, however, for the first time, Sruli was now able to primarily dress himself and keep his clothing on for most of the day.
The Baal Shem Tov famously teaches that we are where our thoughts are. Obviously, not every thought is good for us, and we do need to think about the type of person we hope to marry, what kind of home we aspire to build, etc. However, in our ever-evolving society, lines between core values and secondary preferences blur so easily. Comparing ourselves to others almost becomes second nature, but also often distracts us from what truly matters. Despite their deep love for him, it was difficult for Sruli’s parents to observe his growth when they compared it to others’. Once his counselors were able to help them shift focus – to see the nekudos tovos within – an internal shift began happening for them as well.
Perhaps this is why, on Shabbos, we’re only allowed to sort the desired from the undesired. As we date, we indeed have to sift through several individuals and middos before we can meet our person. It’s so easy to become distracted by what someone might lack, but can we train ourselves to notice what they do bring? Of course, nobody is ever going to check off 100% of our shidduch “shopping list,” but can we override our hearts and appreciate the criteria that they meet? Are our top requirements truly essential elements that will help us actualize the fullest versions of ourselves, our future homes, and our future families, or are they preferences that we’ve seen work well for others?
Lesson 2: Keeping Our Eyes Open
One day, Chana and Esther took their bunk to the baseball field for our summer “Color Run” along with everyone else, and began pushing their campers through the course in their wheelchairs. The girls’ gleeful shrieks were unmistakable against the colors, music, and smiles.
Chana and Esther knew that Rivky had been working hard on walking in the pool for the past two weeks, and she had finally managed to take her first steps. Seizing the opportunity, they casually guided her chair to the side, helped Rivky out of her buckles and, safely supporting her on each side, began taking steps together. Aryeh, part of the Rec Staff, took notice and ran over, throwing a rainbow of colors at Rivky as she and her counselors continued stepping through the course. Rivky could have easily enjoyed Color Run from her chair, along with so many others, but she was capable of doing more – and she did.
When we look at the stories in Sefer Bereishis, one theme continues to emerge: raising our eyes and seeing. Avraham Avinu raises his eyes to see three guests approaching, and runs to welcome them. He’s able to lift his eyes to see the place of the Akeidah from afar; then to notice a ram as an alternative korban. Later, Yitzchak Avinu raises his eyes and sees his future wife approaching. In Judaism, “seeing” isn’t just a passive experience; it’s about actively looking for opportunities. We have to elevate our vision to see beneath the surface and, as we sing in Nishmas on Shabbos morning, to use our eyes to yearn for future holiness.
In dating, keeping our eyes open means being attuned to possibilities that may seem totally contrary to what we initially envisioned. Raising our eyes means looking beyond what we think we need and, instead, internalizing that maybe G-d has other plans for us. Had Avraham Avinu not welcomed the apparent pagans, Sara Imeinu wouldn’t have received the news that she’d be blessed with a son. Had he not raised his eyes and seen the place of the Akeidah before it seemed attainable, he never would have succeeded in that mission. Would Yitzchak Avinu have been able to notice his future wife riding on the camels if he hadn’t kept his eyes open?
Chana and Esther tapped into an opportunity they could’ve easily ignored. Sometimes, G-d shows us what’s best for us in the most creative ways. While we do need to realistically appreciate that not everyone can be our person, when there’s so much revealed hashgacha in a certain shidduch, can we open our eyes to the possibility that the person we may have initially thought didn’t look the part is actually the one G-d is sending directly our way?
Lesson 3: Trusting the Process
Mendy was a beloved younger camper who everyone rushed to high-five as he passed by. He had a bit of a delayed muscle response, and his parents were hoping that he’d gradually master greater independence as he grew up. One summer, his counselors decided to really try to support him in establishing more independent personal hygiene routines.
One evening, Mendy’s counselor Shua was especially tired, and still had a few personal things to tend to before retiring for the night. Many of our campers can have quite elaborate bedtime routines, and Shua knew that this night wouldn’t be any different. First, Mendy would transition into his pajamas, then use the bathroom, then brush his teeth, and finally, sing the Shema. As tempted as he was to help him undress or navigate the toothpaste tube, Shua knew this was Mendy’s process. He deserved the time to be independent just like anyone else. And he was able to develop some of those necessary habits over the summer because his counselors – despite the time constraints these processes sometimes took – gave him the space to be self-reliant.
We often don’t understand why G-d orchestrates reality as He does. Dating is a process that takes time – what can sometimes feel like a long time. We put in the effort and go on the dates, but they don’t work out. Then another doesn’t work out. Then another. We want to move on with our lives – or others think we should – but, like any meaningful process, we can’t rush the journey. Doing so prevents us from being present in the experience, from growing through the adventure and learning more about ourselves along the way. Each individual we date leads us closer to the person G-d knows we’re meant to marry.
Yosef HaTzaddik’s journey down to Egypt keenly reflects this pain and despair. It’s as if G-d had forgotten about him while everyone else seemed to move on with their lives – until he was instantaneously rushed from the dungeons to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, and everything changed. The Mei HaShiloach, Rebbe Mordechai Yosef Leiner, teaches that, in truth, it wasn’t that Pharaoh needed his dreams interpreted and Yosef was the only one who could do so successfully. Rather, Pharaoh dreamt his dreams at the exact moment that Yosef needed to be released. Reb Shlomo Carlebach takes this a step further and explains that this is why Chazal didn’t create a Yom Tov to celebrate the day that Yosef solved the mystery of Pharaoh’s dreams – his liberation happened at the exact moment it was supposed to. Unlike our miraculous Yetzias Mitzrayim or Krias Yam Suf, there was nothing extraordinary about Yosef’s timeline, however unfair or unnatural it may seem to us presently.
Moreover, trusting G-d’s timeline with shidduchim also means that we need to be patient with each shidduch we meet. We can’t instantly write people off. Before we can sort someone’s good middos from their less favorable ones, we first need to actually get to know them for who they are – and not based on what others tell us, or whatever advanced conclusions we make on our own. G-d already knows who our person is, and has set him or her aside for us; are we genuinely prepared to give ourselves, and others, time to discover if they are that individual? Like Yosef in Egypt, we don’t get married because we meet our person; instead, we meet him or her when it’s our time to get married.
Lesson 4: Creating Ourselves First
We learn in Pirkei Avos that G-d tested Avraham Avinu 10 times to demonstrate His deep love for him. But isn’t that counterintuitive? If G-d really loved him so much, why such hardships?
Our roles in camp are demanding, and at least once throughout the summer – sometimes many times – we doubt ourselves and our abilities to care for our campers. We break down, or burn out, or both. At the outset, I shared that summer camping changes us because it challenges us; I still firmly stand by that statement.
Chazal famously inform us that while we can gain a lot from our teachers and friends, we often learn the most valuable lessons from our students. This is because challenges challenge us to grow. They force us to think about situations differently, and in so doing, look at ourselves differently.
While some think that Camp HASC staff are the ones improving the lives of their campers, in truth, the opposite occurs: Our campers are the ones who enrich ours. They help us put life into perspective, teach us resilience, and inspire us to find simcha in ordinary experiences. They enable us to uncover skills we never even knew we had.
Many of us aspire to have homes and families of our own, rooted in certain ideals and values. Many of us, however, are also still discovering what those ideals are. Bluntly, if we don’t first take time – and for each of us, that length will differ – to get to know, and create, ourselves as individuals, we’ll never be able to create relationships with people that require us to share our fullest selves. As the famous dating equation affirms: 1+1=1. This doesn’t mean that we’ll do X or Y after we get married, or that we need someone else to complete us. Rather, 1+1=1 means creating the life we aspire to live now, and trusting that our person will be revealed within that process of living life.
Lesson 5: When Helping Is Actually Not Helpful
One day, Sara’le was transitioning between activities on an adaptive bike, and was having visible difficulty pedaling up one of the more inclined sections of the road. True to her nature, Tzippy, a staff member walking by, quickly stepped in to offer Sara’le a gentle push; but her counselor, a few feet away, smiled and signaled for Tzippy to let her be. It may have been difficult, but this was Sara’le’s work – and she could do it. At the “top” of that hill, Sara’le knew it was her efforts that got her there, and her look of satisfaction in this accomplishment spoke for itself. She knew that she had the strength, and she trusted herself; and Tzippy learned to believe in her, too.
I’m convinced that many people, by nature, want to help others. I think this is especially true in the world of shidduchim – so much so that new chesed initiatives keep popping up to help young (and young-at-heart) people meet.
In Kabbalah, chesed and gevurah sit at opposite ends of the helping spectrum. The former is active, and the latter is passive. Chesed initiates and gives unconditionally, essentially going beyond the normative baseline. Gevurah is the strength to say no, and to resist chesed’s urge to help. Of course, we need to strike a balance between either extreme as we go about our days, but the stark contrast does make us pause and reflect on our helping habits.
Chazal remind us that more than a calf seeks nourishment, its mother desires to nurse. In addition to giving people (and ourselves) space to grow into their own people, and at their own pace, we have to remember that not everyone wants our help – or at that exact moment, or in the precise way we’re offering it. Do we hover and bombard our children or neighbors or friends with questions or comments about their dating journeys? Do we check in with them before making a suggestion or giving advice, to first see if they’re in a mental space to receive it? Do we run shidduch programs that singles genuinely appreciate, or only ones that fit the path we believe they should be taking?
As humans, we’re each born with an innate resilience. We know how to make choices, navigate difficult moments, and recognize when we need support – and to ask for it. When we’re given space to manifest this, getting over the “incline in the road” is so much more rewarding than a simple push from someone else who’s already done it previously.
Crossing the Sea Together
Chazal tell us that bringing together shidduchim is as difficult as Krias Yam Suf. Taking that first step into the sea requires courage – especially with Egypt chasing behind us and the anxiety of future unknowns ahead of us. But two components stand out. Firstly, we were united as a people, crossing the same sea together despite our different backgrounds, ages, or speeds. We may have had unique pathways to walk through, but we all reached the same destination successfully. Secondly, Chazal tell us that even the simplest individual experienced the highest G-dly revelations on that trek forward.
Friends, many of us are still journeying through the sea of shidduchim. We’ll each reach the other side when the time is right, because we know that G-d is traveling alongside us as we navigate the ups and downs in the process. Let’s be there for each other, and for ourselves. And may we collectively merit to witness the finalization of the ultimate shidduch: the union of heaven and earth, when all of reality will truly be able to appreciate that 1+1=1, and experience the authentic Oneness of the ultimate Matchmaker.