In Judaism, seven days before a couple marries, they separate. There are different customs as to the extent of this separation, but overall, the intent is for there to be some degree of distance between them in the final days leading up to their wedding. From a psycho-developmental-emotional lens, we practice this because we each need to enter our marriages as “complete” people. This isn’t to say that we can’t (or shouldn’t) further evolve and grow after we marry, but the mindset that we need our future spouse to complete us is unhealthy. We need to be the best that we can be, and our partner needs to be the best that he or she can be, if we hope to build an eternal edifice together following the wedding.
If our personal foundation isn’t all it can be at that time, regardless of how strong our spouse’s foundation is, our future together will be shaky; our weaker qualities will ultimately reveal themselves more clearly rather than improve. Instead of adding two halves to create a whole (both of which are incomplete without the other), when we multiply two wholesome individuals, we allow them to create a larger (and more empowered) whole that transcends whatever each of their unique halves ever could have been on its own.
Not only this, but we must appreciate that we’re worthy of being our most complete selves without our spouse; nobody external to us gets to control or decide how great we become. We have qualities that our marriage needs that our spouse doesn’t bring to the relationship, and we need space and time to actualize them. What’s more, we deserve to bring all aspects of who we are (including those we haven’t yet realized) to that union and be accepted for who we are – both our strengths and those aspects of ourselves that we’re still working on – and not who someone else might wish we were, based on his or her own personal needs.
Growing as Individuals
A national version of these seven days of separation plays out within the larger context of our journey from miraculous Passover to majestic Shavuos. If Shavuos were to occur immediately following the Exodus from Egypt, would we truly have time to develop ourselves as individuals? How deeply would we appreciate the totality of the gift of G-d’s Torah if we were to receive it so early on? As such, the Zohar links the seven weeks of Sefiras Ha’Omer to the process of a bride approaching the chuppah and circling her groom seven times before standing together as one unit thereunder. She counts up toward her special day in great anticipation and encircles him, again and again, as she prepares the foundation for their holy union and forthcoming relationship.
Each week of Sefiras Ha’Omer, we develop and strengthen one of our interpersonal qualities because, ultimately, if we can’t appreciate the humanness of our relationships or respect each other for who we are as individuals, no amount of holiness, Torah learning, or mitzvos will ever be able to fill that void. Our Mount Sinai experience – the apex of our Exodus – is pointless if we can’t first learn how to get along together. This is why our Sages emphasize the importance of collective respect and kindness by noting that it preceded the gifting of the Torah by 26 generations. This is why we encamped at the foot of the mountain to receive the Torah as a unified people with one heart.
No marriage will ever be perfect, nor will it be totally free from challenging or uncomfortable moments. Like any other form of relationship, perhaps one of the most significant causes for tension is when we begin comparing who and what we have with who others seem to be and what they appear to have. The Shem M’Shmuel, Rabbi Shmuel of Sochotchov, points out how the Torah calls on each of us individually to count the days between Passover and Shavuos because we must each realize that there are good points within us, and also within our brothers and sisters. As soon as we begin trying to manifest others’ goodness, we lose sight of, and neglect to nurture, our own, thereby preventing ourselves from fully actualizing our potential. Each of us is a unique person – with a mix of talents and areas in which we can improve – and G-d desires our individuality. He didn’t create us to just be a copy of another, despite how much we all share the same “spiritual DNA.” But we have to give ourselves permission to develop ourselves and our uniqueness. We have to be patient with ourselves as we grow – and be patient with our brothers and sisters as well. Seven weeks may seem like a long time, but they’re worth it in the end.
Growing Through the Separations
From a psycho-trauma perspective, we separate before standing together under our chuppah as a reminder that, despite how close we might feel (both leading up to, and on, our special day), at one point or another in our future, feelings of distance are unavoidable. As solid as our relationship and marriage can become, challenges will always arise that test our foundation. But these days of distance also reassure us that after these seven days, we will reunite – as if to say that the bumps we encounter along the journey only strengthen us as a couple. Although we might be physically or emotionally separated, we can come close once again; we can still strengthen our emotional and psychological closeness even if we aren’t sharing the same physical space. At times, we might feel betrayed by our spouse, and at others, he or she might feel betrayed by us, but at any given moment within our shared narrative, we can affirm that our love story isn’t yet over.
The Imrei Emes, Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter of Gur, teaches that G-d introduced the gifting of the Torah on Mt. Sinai with the statement, “I am Hashem, your G-d, who took you out of the Land of Egypt…” because the entire foundation of Torah rests upon the premise of our Exodus experience, whose holy energy re-emerges year after year, beckoning us to tap into and (re)experience a deeper degree of freedom. Every year, we’re each empowered to count for ourselves toward our Wedding Day, as if it’s happening for the first time in our present. However difficult our relationships might have felt yesterday, last month, or six months ago, Shavuos is a new opportunity to recommit to them via that channel of separation and distance.
In our array of unique ways, may we each re-enter (and, for some, enter for the first time) our relationship with Torah with genuine joy, sweetness, and innerness!