Speaking of good marriages... Here's a nice piece from
www.vosizneias.com/22478/2008/11/13/new-york-first-aid-kit-for-jewish-marriages/ As a young yeshiva student, I learned a lesson about true happiness when I spent one of the most rewarding Shabboses in my life volunteering in an old-age home in Sanhedria Murchevet, a small ultra-Orthodox community in Jerusalem. My predicament that weekend was that I wanted to spend Shabbos visiting the old-age home, but I didn’t have a place to stay. Thinking out of the box, and knowing I was in an ultra-Orthodox community that was famous for its chesed and hachnasas orchim, I decided to take a chance by asking some elderly chassidim who frequented a small shopping mall in the neighborhood if they would be kind enough to take me in as their guest for Shabbos. After I waited for about five minutes in front of the mall, an elderly chassid from the Viznitz community walked by with his child. In my broken and heavily American-accented Hebrew, I tried to explain to him where I volunteered and what I needed. Without blinking, the man said that he would be delighted to have me as his guest.
The elderly chassid met me just before sunset at the local shul and brought me home to meet his wife and family. At first, when I walked into his home, I felt like I was entering one of Roman Vizniak’s scenes from pre-war Poland. Despite my initial discomfort at feeling out of place, my fears were quickly relieved when I was warmly welcomed and asked to bring my suitcase into the room I would be sleeping in. After arranging my clothes, I was served a pre-Shabbos treat: a hot cup of coffee and some chocolate rugelach. Just as I finished my last bite, the Shabbos siren blew and I ran off to daven Kabbalas Shabbos at the old-age home.
After davening, I returned to my host’s apartment to sleep in a very comfortable bedroom. The next morning I awoke and realized that, despite the fact that they had seven children, there were only two bedrooms—and I was sleeping in one of them! It turned out that they had set up their children’s beds in the living room and the parents had slept in the one remaining bedroom! Embarrassed and overwhelmed by their generosity, I walked out of the living room to wish a good Shabbos and, once again, my hosts insisted I sit down for another cup of coffee. That Shabbos, we spent hours eating, drinking tea, and talking about our lives. They were devoted members of the Viznitz community. The father worked as an accountant for the local chevrah kadishah and his wife was an assistant in the community kindergarten. They were married during the War of Independence and for many years lived in Meah Shearim. About ten years ago they had bought this apartment, and one of their dreams was to have special guests over for Shabbos. I happened to be one of the lucky individuals that would benefit from their kindness and hospitality.
What amazed me the most about this couple was their tremendous sense of happiness and camaraderie. Love seemed to permeate their home and their relationships with the people who happened to enter into their lives.
That Shabbos, I was given a present far greater than a bed to sleep in: a glimpse at the secret of what makes and sustains good marriages. That secret is
a commitment to building meaningful relationships and an overriding desire to do chesed for one another. I also came away from the experience realizing that people tend to confuse real happiness with temporary pleasure. The line of reasoning is that happiness is dependent upon our ability to purchase comfort. Yet, human experience teaches us that pleasure and happiness are two different things. You can have all the pleasure you desire, yet still not be happy.
