Willingly or Unwillingly? On the Sanctity of the Marriage Covenant
Although this week’s Torah portion is named for our matriarch Sarah, it contains an important story about her daughter-in-law Rebecca, one of our younger matriarchs.
The story of Rebecca’s selection as a bride for Abraham’s son Isaac illuminates the foundational principles of the Jewish home throughout the generations: a home built upon both choice and love. This topic is always important, but is particularly relevant to examine now as this month brings the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, raising global awareness about gender-based violence, including trapping women in marriages against their will. Every year more and more Jewish women find themselves legally chained in marriages against their will, becoming agunot.
In the Torah, following Sarah’s death, Abraham charges his servant Eliezer with the task of securing a suitable bride for Isaac. Bound by an oath, Eliezer sets out for Aram-Naharaim as the faithful emissary of Abraham, seeking a woman of fine character for Isaac when he comes upon Rebecca at a well. Having discerned Rebecca’s qualities, Eliezer presents impressive gifts to Rebecca’s family, and refuses to eat until the deal is sealed. It works; Laban and Bethuel, representing the family, say yes.
Yet at the very last moment, the family hesitates, requesting to delay Eliezer’s departure by a few days. In a surprising turn, they defer the final decision to Rebecca herself. At this pivotal moment, the Torah establishes a moral and legal guideline of the highest order regarding the formation of the marital covenant. In the ancient world—where a woman was often viewed as property or as a passive object within political and familial arrangements—a divine voice emerges to teach us an eternal principle: a woman’s own opinion, her free will, and her voice constitute the very foundation and the essential prerequisite for the relationship between a man and a woman. Rebecca alone holds the authority to decide the answer to the question, “Will you go with this man?” Her response is direct and clear: “I will go.”
The principle that a marital bond must stem from autonomous will has become a cornerstone of Jewish law. The Mishnah in Tractate Kiddushin (2a) states that “a woman is acquired [in marriage] in three ways: through money, a legal document, or sexual union.” Jewish law explicitly recognizes the importance of a woman’s consent to marriage. The Shulchan Aruch, in Even HaEzer, states that a woman cannot be betrothed against her will and that such a betrothal is invalid. The Sages understood the depths of the human psyche: without free will, an institution intended to represent the pinnacle of holiness instantly transforms into a spiritual prison. A true covenant is not a coerced contract, but a living encounter between two independent wills. It is this ongoing, daily exercise of free will that invites the Divine Presence into the home.
The principle of mutual consent is also central to the process of divorce; just as the couple entered the marriage by consent, so too must they exit it by consent. When one spouse refuses to cooperate with the divorce, the rabbinical court intervenes. In some instances, the court may mandate or compel the recalcitrant spouse to grant or accept the get, the divorce document. In more severe cases, the court may impose sanctions until the individual agrees to grant or accept the divorce—and in extreme cases in Israel, the recalcitrant spouse may even be imprisoned.
How cruel a person can become under the cover of halakha, abusing, tormenting, extorting and controlling another while invoking authority of Jewish law to justify his actions. Such conduct reflects what our tradition calls naval birshut haTorah; acting reprehensibly while remaining withint the formal framework of Jewish law.
However, if none of these measures prove effective, we face a grave problem: a man or a woman trapped in a marriage against their will. Even more disturbing is the fact that while a Jewish man whose wife refuses to accept a get may find halakhic solutions that allow him to move on with his life, to marry another woman and have children; for a Jewish woman, this situation more often than not constitutes a cruel sentence that brings her life to a complete standstill.
Transforming the concept of consent into a mechanism for subjugation runs counter to the very principle of sanctity within the Jewish home. Choice is not a one-time event occurring only under the chuppah. A healthy marriage requires a choice that is renewed every single day. When one party seeks to dissolve the marriage, holding them captive by force negates the very foundation of this ongoing, renewed choice. As we read in the weekly Torah portion about Rebecca, who responds, “I will go,” we must look courageously at our current reality and ask: Are we truly listening to the voices of these women who wish to leave?
A moral halakhic world cannot afford to stand idly by. We bear both a human and religious obligation to utilize every available tool—from halakhic pre-nuptial agreements designed to prevent the withholding of a get to courageous solutions employed by rabbinical courts to release such women—to ensure that no woman remains trapped in a relationship that has lost its soul. We must ensure that the element of choice—as exemplified by our Matriarch Rebecca—remains the cornerstone of the Jewish home.
Just as the gates through which a couple enters a Jewish marriage must be open only to those who enter of their own free will, so too must we ensure that individuals can renew this choice each day, that those gates are never locked against someone who wishes to leave.