Or so it seems.
After returning alone from NY, shlepping books and a plane ticket with a date different from the one on his itinerary (they managed to get him on the flight anyway), he found a message from modiin (the army intelligence division). We had been told that the most interesting and intellectually stimulating job in the army is mechkar modiin or intelligence research, but he hadn’t heard from them and we had just about given up. The message said he needed to answer a few questions by a certain date, after which they will presumably invite him for tests.
He took tests at the army’ computer division headquarters recently. If he did well (and they said that most of the recruits who get to that stage pass) he may be eligible for a pre-army six-month programming course lasting 15 hours a day (7am-10pm). They claimed that the course would cost NIS 90,000 were it offered in Israel, which it isn’t. After that, he would serve three full years in whatever division they sent him to, and commit himself to an additional 2.5 years of “keva,” (a translation escapes me at the moment, but it means that he would work more reasonable hours and draw a regular salary).
He would need to undergo security clearance. (“Does your mother have a blog?”)
All of the division headquarters are in the Tel Aviv area so he could live at home (“until I get married”). At the end of all this, graduates, hand-picked by the army for their skills with five years programming experience under their belt, are snapped up by employers. He likes that idea.
Our friend, who served in “keva,” told him that the most frustrating part of being in keva as opposed to civilian life is that you must do things according to army regulations, no matter how ridiculous.
According to my son, they will hold his place in the course even if he wants to stay in yeshiva for twenty years. I reminded him that he had previously mentioned ten years. He replied: Maalin bakodesh ve-lo moridin.*
*Rationale used by the sage Hillel for increasing the number of Chanukah candles each night instead of the reverse.
Mama tagged me for the eight things meme. Even though I did it already and I’m still too jet-lagged to blog properly, below is a variation.
In response to the previous post, I received the following by email:
For this guy to find the right girl, he’s going to have to leave the “we tell all to the parents” scene.I am married to a man with bipolar disorder. He told me that he had the disorder after our third date, when there was already a connection forming, but still the opportunity for me to back out of the relationship.
Personally, for a number of reasons, I chose to continue dating. I should point out: 1. This was a match suggested by a mutual friend, not a shadchan (b/c we were a bit older, we had both had bad experiences in the shidduch scene and were willing to look outside of that scene) and 2. I suffer from depression myself.
Because of the combination of factors, we opted to date a little longer and more “intensely” than people in charedi circles usually do.
Before we got engaged, we each dragged the other through a Shabbat with friends/family to make sure that there was some objectivity. (It was quite uncomfortable being each others’ “friend” and not chatan/kallah, but we felt it was absolutely essential to have the experience before we made a decision.) We also listened carefully to opinions of people we trusted to look out for us. Before we got engaged, we spent several full days together, and many many many hours on the phone.
We talked at length about our own issues and how they affect us, and we made the decision that this can work, and it does.
Does his bipolar affect our marriage? Absolutely, as does my depression. We’ve both been in therapy, and we both are currently in contact with an excellent psychiatrist who knows both of us as individuals and understands how the two sets of problems work together.
The amazing thing is that with our mutual issues, we are able to help each other in ways that other people -even close friends and family- are unable to help us. For both of us, the other’s problem is sometimes just as much of an asset as it is a liability.
PS. My husband’s answer to the whole thing is: “I asked a rav a shaila and he said that I should tell it on the third or fourth date.”
This makes me wonder about whether the parents in the letter to Rebbetzin Jungreis have consulted with their son’s psychiatrist. It seems to me that s/he would be in the best position to tell them, and the potential partner, about the possible progression of the illness and how it might affect the marriage.
I have copied an excerpt of a letter to Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis. See the link for the entire question; she doesn’t seem to have responded yet.
. . . Now, here is our dilemma: Are we obligated to tell the shadchan, the girl and her family? My husband and I are conflicted. I say “yes”, but he argues “no”. According to him, the moment we say the words “Bi-Polar’ we terminate all his chances of a decent shidduch. Moreover, my husband feels that since he has been totally well since he started on medication (and that has been five years now) there is no reason to announce a problem which is no longer present. He also argues that if the girl and her family find out about this and as a consequence she refuses to see my son, it will devastate him and he will regress. On the other hand, I am not comfortable leaving the situation as it is. To me, it borders on deception. My husband and I have been literally fighting about this. The conflict has destroyed our shalom bayis and I really don’t know what to do. I was thinking that we should consult his Rosh Yeshiva, but my husband pointed out that the Rosh Yeshiva is the first person people turn to when they seek shidduch information, and if he is made aware of this problem, he will have to reveal it – and the same holds true of the Rov of our shul, so as you can see, we are in a terrible bind.
I have a few comments. First of all, it’s sad that no one thinks that the son has any say in the matter. How does he feel about deceiving his future wife?
The boy’s father is also being naive about the illness. Medications cease to work or need to be adjusted, and patients often decide to stop taking them.
On the one hand it’s sad that the parents are so sure the shidduch will be broken once they tell. It would be nice if the girl’s parents would be willing to overlook this, although one could certainly understand some reluctance on their part.
The parents posing the question need to ask themselves two questions: 1) Do they want mechutanim whom they believe would refuse a shidduch for their own daughter because of a treated mental illness and 2) How would they feel if the shoe were on the other foot? Would they want parents of a potential shidduch for one of their younger, healthy children to hide such information?
See Brooklyn Wolf for further comments on the letter.
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