This week’s Torah portion (23:1 through 25:18) brings us the Bible’s first real dating story. Sure, Adam and Eve were literally made for each other, but that was kind of a setup from the start. This time, we watch Abraham’s servant Eliezer venture out on an actual matchmaking mission to find Isaac a wife. He’s nervous. He prays. He creates a test to identify the right woman. And when Rebecca passes with flying colors, offering water not just to him but to all his camels, he knows he’s found the one.
It’s a beautiful story of divine providence meeting human effort. Eliezer had a plan, he had faith, and he had a clear vision of what Isaac’s perfect match should look like. So, in honor of this matchmaking portion, I want to share an incredible modern love story that shows us what happens when God’s matchmaking looks nothing like the plan we made – and when a perfect match isn’t the only perfect match, and finally, when saying yes to God’s plan means rebuilding everything we thought we knew about our lives.
Meet Hadas Lowenstern and Hod Reichert. Hadas lost her husband, Elisha, when he was killed, fighting Hamas in Gaza in December 2023. Hod had also recently lost his wife Chagit just days days after she gave birth to their fourth child. These aren’t theoretical tragedies. These are real people, real families, real children left without a parent.
But here’s where the story gets interesting. Before Elisha went into Gaza, he told Hadas something that would change everything: “If something happens to me, get married as soon as possible.” She pushed back: what does “as soon as possible” even mean? Should she throw open a window and marry the first man who walks by? He insisted: “Hadasi, as soon as possible.”
Hod lived on Hadas’ street. While they were neighbors for some time, she didn’t know him well. When Elisha was killed, Hod was serving in the reserves while his wife was on bed rest during her fourth pregnancy. After Chagit passed away, Hadas went to comfort the family. She sat in the mourning tent, and her eyes landed on Hod’s oldest daughter. Her first thought? “What a match for my son.” She even approached Hod and told him, “Listen, that girl (your daughter), she’s going to be okay.” He put his hand on his heart and asked: “Really?” She told him: “Yes.”
Months later, they started texting – almost by chance. Neither quite ready to name what was happening between them. Then one day, through a neighbor, Hadas discovered the truth: Hod wanted to date her. That night, she sent him a message calling him a blockhead for not saying so directly. He asked: “So what do you say?” She answered: “I say yes.”
And then came the wedding. Hadas’s son stood under the huppah, the marriage canopy at his mother’s wedding, something he never thought would happen and with so much strength, shared a teaching from the prophet Haggai:
In Hebrew, the letter mem can work two ways. It can mean “greater than”—one thing surpassing another. That’s mem hayitaron, the mem of advantage. You might think the second house will be bigger than the first house.
But there’s another way to read it: mem hamitoakch, the mem meaning “from” or “because of.” The house being built today wasn’t built instead of the houses that came before. It was built because of them.
Here’s the Hebrew letter mem:
מ (final form: ם)
The letter mem (מ) is the 13th letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It has two forms:
מ – the regular form used at the beginning or middle of a word
ם – the final form used at the end of a word
In Haggai 2:9, the mem appears in the word מִן (min) – meaning “from” or “than” – which is the key to understanding the son’s teaching about whether the second house is greater than the first, or built from/because of the first.
The son continued: “Here with us tonight are two people who are not physically with us today. Chagit, Hod’s beloved wife and mother of Hillel, Lechen, Gili, and Klil. And Abba Elisha, my mother’s beloved husband and father to me, Benaya, Michal, Yiska, Amichai, and Ruth.”
Then he said something that cut through everything: “Elisha is Elisha and Hod is Hod. And Elisha is happy. Obviously! Elisha loves my mother. He didn’t want to mess up her life in the middle of everything. I’m certain he’s happy.”
Hadas and Hod’s story isn’t about replacement. It’s about building something new that honors everything that came before it. The second house isn’t greater than the first because it erases it. It’s greater because it emerges from it—from that foundation, because of that love.
Elisha and Chagit aren’t competing with this new marriage. They’re part of its foundation. The children from both families aren’t losing their parents’ memories—they’re gaining a future built because of those memories, from that love, honoring everything that was while embracing everything that can still be.
Hadas’ son concluded his speech with this blessing: “We pray and we hope that from the personal building of your lives will come a great building for all the people of Israel. You are paving the way.”
Sometimes God’s matchmaking looks nothing like we planned. Sometimes the path to joy runs straight through heartbreak. And sometimes the greatest love stories aren’t about finding your first match, but about having the courage to say yes when God offers you a second one—not instead of the first, but because of it.
