In London, when 100,000 people marched against antisemitism in November, a young man holding a placard reading “Looking for a nice Jewish husband,” with his phone number written clearly underneath, appeared all over my group chats.
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Simultaneously, on Facebook groups such as Secret Tel Aviv (which has 480,000 members) friends alerted me to the fact that it became a full-on “trend”.
“A trend? So let it be,” wrote a Druze man living in Tel Aviv, posting photos of himself.
“Why not? Life is short,” typed a 23-year-old woman studying in the city and looking to connect with someone.
Those words of hers, it dawned on me, were the very point: something that started as a chutzpah-dic way of cutting through the sorrow — even if had been intended only for the soldier on the receiving end of a single home-cooked meal — revealed something bigger and innate to our Jewish culture: to love, and to seek love, is to survive.
Just as after the Holocaust Jewish women who carried the bloodline rushed to marry, now, once again, when our existence feels threatened in the wake of October 7, looking for romance, the impulse to build the next generation, is more than a choice, it’s an intuitive response.
Aleeza, our matchmaker (Netflix)Courtesy of Netflix
I wanted to understand what a dating expert made of this response and reached out to Aleeza Ben Shalom of Netflix’s Jewish Matchmaking to explain what we were seeing. “The Holocaust and October 7 have challenged our survival as a people,” said Aleeza. “It is precisely these times when we are most afraid of our own death that we want to fight for our families, lives and our communities. It is exactly during these times that we prioritise getting married. We will survive. We will thrive. And we will be here for generations to come.” She continued: “Right now we have soldiers fighting to save people and our land. But what good is a land if we don’t have a future generation to pass it on to?
Family and friends celebrate a wedding brought forward as one of the spouses has been called for reserve duty in Moshav Dishon, northern Israel, at yishuv Adam, October 19, 2023. Photo by Oren Ben Hakoon/Flash90 Flash90
“In times of crisis singles tap into the times and realise they are the future of the Jewish people and that building families builds communities which builds our world.
“I personally believe world peace begins at home. Jewish continuity is within our reach and it’s in our hands. And during times of crisis the motivation is very high.” In fact, love and shidduching have been so much a part of our cultural response to October 7 that influencers such as Israeli comedian Maya Wertheimer have, at points, shared dating profiles alongside their usual content.
Israeli actress Maya Wertheimer Flash90
Similarly, Facebook groups more used to sharing local recommendations have been overtaken by them and Israeli Tinder has become busy with profiles of uniformed photos of soldiers looking for love, their faces redacted with emojis for security. A religious friend shared that on frum forums women are discussing their desire to be pregnant, to grow life, in more urgent terms, while in late November a picture from an Israeli maternity ward shared that of the 17,629 babies born since October 7, 45 had been named Be’eri and three little girls called Nova.
Adir and Tamar, both currently in reserve duty, got married during a surprise wedding ceremony on an IDF base on October 17, 2023 in Southern Israel. Adir and Tamir were supposed to get married today at a regular venue wedding, before Hamas militants attacked on October 7th and this war began what made them cancel the wedding. Middle East Images/AFP via Getty
The images of serving soldiers who have married on the front line, in some cases with the bride wearing a veil, but often without, are another celebration of love in the Jewish state in this darkest of times.
Love, marriage, birth, these rituals endure because we will them to; they represent, and guarantee survival — and they will survive us.
“In modern, normal times of peace people don’t always have enough motivation to make love happen. There are far too many distractions and way too many carrots dangling in front of them to solely focus on finding love,” says Aleeza.
“Right now, love has been ignited in our hearts — for the hostages, for the soldiers, for our brothers and sisters in Israel.
"And it has also created a pathway for those who are seeking their soulmate. It has allowed us to be vulnerable because the whole Jewish world is now vulnerable.”
IDF reserve soldiers receive food donations from civilians during a military exercise, Golan Heights on October 24, 2023. Photo by Michael Giladi/Flash90 *** Local Caption *** צבא חיילים צפון מזון Flash90
For some, to seek joy at this bleakest of times — when there are hostages still captive, their families waiting each anguished day for their return, and when the civilian death toll is shatteringly high in Gaza — might seem wrong.
But for the Jews, survival has always entailed grasping joy. It is possible to hold those two things — a deep sadness and a deep will for happiness — at once.
And as my friend Rabbi Robyn Ashworth-Steen points out, this duality exists in one of the most familiar rituals of Jewish love: the breaking of a glass at a wedding.
“At the darkest of moments, we more attuned to even the smallest chinks of joy because they are needed more than ever, they show the necessity of living life as fully as possible.”
From the scrawled number on the paper lid of a homemade meal to new dating trends on Jewish social media platforms, our response to the tragedy of war has been healthy, says Aleeza.
“This is our inner call to action. Our hearts and bodies want to find love and build our family.
"Am Yisrael Chai. We set out to make this our living word, not just a song we sing.”
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