“Find me a find, catch me a catch,” says the song. But it’s not always that easy.
With the rate of intermarriage increasing exponentially, committed Jewish singles are finding it harder and harder to locate their beshert — the one that is meant for them.
“Make Me a Match,” a one-hour documentary from Media Projects Inc., takes a comprehensive and lighthearted look at the Jewish dating scene by showcasing various forms of matchmaking. The first matchmaker, it states at the outset, was God, taking a rib from the sleeping Adam in order to make him a helpmate. Of course, that drastic procedure predated the computer age.
For a long time after that, parents and/or the community arranged marriages, a custom still in vogue in some places around the world. Sometimes this worked out; sometimes not.
In the shtetl or ghettos, Jewish boys and girls rarely came into contact with people of other faiths. With many Jews assimilating into the general population, the concept of choice entered the equation. By the 1960s, at least in the United States, the thought of a third party intervening in making a match became laughable.
Until now. Demographics, intermarriage and the consequent absorption of Jews into the American melting pot plus a spiraling divorce rate have left many Jewish singles high and dry. Where do you go in, say, Lubbock, Texas, to meet a nice Jewish girl? And what if it seems you’ve already dated all the available Jewish men in San Francisco? Enter the matchmaker.
Face-to-face, over the phone, through personal ads in Jewish newspapers like this one, on the computer and at conventions, “SJMs” and “SJWs” are getting together in increasing numbers. With wit and tact, “Make Me a Match” filmmakers Allen Mondell and Cynthia Salzman Mondell examine the different routes to the altar that are available and thriving.
The requirements of Shimson Stock, a Brooklyn-based matchmaker, are fairly simple: “Somebody who is normal, healthy, and has a job.”
Rabbi Yeheskel and Pearl Lebovic want a certain level of commitment to Judaism as well. and in the film they gently persuade David, a somewhat indifferent Jewish cop from New Jersey, to put on tefillin. For the religious matchmaker, God is a partner in the endeavor. “It’ll help,” urges Lebovic.
A phone service, operating out of Aberdeen, S.D., with an 800 number, uses mostly non-Jewish personnel, armed with Leo Rosten’s “Hooray for Yiddish” and a list of acceptable phrases, to place newspaper and computer ads. A committee of 27 women from a San Diego synagogue sifts through profiles and conducts interviews, putting people together in what they — and their rabbi — consider to be a mitzvah.
The film takes viewers to an annual Jewish singles convention that brings people together from all over the country. Some people actually find a partner there; the others just have a lot of fun. Then there are cruises and missions to Israel.
Eavesdropping on a men’s discussion group is a poignant eye-opener. “You get married. You get divorced. Then you’re single again. It’s like recycling,” mutters one guy.
Amusing as it is, “Make Me a Match” is not flippant when it comes to the heart of the matter.
“If the Jewish people don’t continue through the family it’s like another Holocaust — a silent Holocaust,” one matchmaker says.
If you are married, an hour spent on the singles scene with “Make Me a Match” may make you appreciate what you’ve got. If you’re single, it may inspire you to get out there and do something about it. Whatever your status, this is a well-made, interesting and highly entertaining piece of work.
“Make Me a Match: A Jewish Love Story” is available through www.mediaprojects.org for purchase by Jewish institutions ($99) and for rental ($25 plus shipping). Information: (214) 826-3863.