“And Esau was forty years old when he took to wife Judith the daughter of Be-eri the Hitite, and Bashemath the daughter of Elon the Hitite. Which were a grief of mind unto Isaac and Rebecca” (Genesis 26:34)
Esau the elder twin was a constant grief to his parents. They had no control over him. He insisted on running around with the local girls. Finally he took two of them to wife. The parents gave up trying to influence him. Mother Rebecca devised a plan to marry her obedient son Jacob to a girl of her own kind, somebody from her home country. He would be worthy to carry the heritage of his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham.
One wonders how those American Christians determined to live by the literal words and lessons of the Bible can reconcile the exclusivism of the Jews with the popular myth of our nation that regardless of the differences in background, education, upbringing, religious faith or unbelief, in the cliché taken as an unchallenged truism, “love conquers all.”
We are conditioned to accept this as an unquestioned truth in our motion pictures, novels and television. From the early 1900’s film, “Abie’s Irish Rose” to “Look Who’s Coming to Dinner,” or in the musicals from “South Pacific” to “Cage aux Folles,” in America it makes little difference whether a Jew marries an Irish lass, blacks marry whites, or now on the scene males “marry” males; the important point is that they love one another. The theme of disparates meeting, mating and marrying is a staple of our time.
Dare a parent, a teacher or a priest offer a discouraging word and it’s taken as an unwelcome comment from a bigot, a negative Neanderthal out of touch with the culture, and perhaps somebody with a bias that ought to be analyzed. Why then would anybody want to put himself in such a position? Who would dare open herself to the hostility of the happy couple?
I thought about it as I was listening to the professional breeders and trainers who know most about what it takes to prepare horses for the springtime running of the champions at the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont. And I recall a visit to New Skete Monastery where the monks raise German Shepherds. They explained the care taken to select which of the animals would make appropriate mates for the desired results.
Here in America we have an epidemic of divorces. Ask a teacher how many pupils come from one family homes. The results may surprise you. Consider the number of children raised by a single parent. They may see Daddy on certain weekends—that is, if he is close by and interested. And what pattern of family life will those children be able to pass on to their own children? Will divorce not be a viable option to them when problems arise in their own marriages? What was once a tragedy is now an accepted norm. It’s the American way.
I understand that the plethora of divorces cannot be blamed on diversity of backgrounds; nevertheless, those who come from similar backgrounds have a better chance of understanding one another, or to use the common jargon, “they know where the other is coming from.” I’m not suggesting we become matchmakers. It doesn’t work. I know the hard way that it doesn’t. Nor do I yearn for a return to the era of our great grandparents, where families became involved in the choice of their children of marriageable age. It’s probably too late for that, as Tevye discovered in “Fiddler on the Roof.” I have no solution to the situation since our children resent and rebel against any adult who would dare to offer advice as to whom they might seek out as a life partner. So we go on living with the after-effects of the American fable that love conquers all.