Crossing the United States is fascinating, whether by air, auto, water, or train, as I did it this time. I was traveling to my cousin David’s wedding in Ventura, California, and I decided to take the scenic route. It was a different experience. No need to pack and unpack. The food was good, and the company was interesting. We stopped in some of the small towns, usually in the “flyover states.” It took four days and three nights from Penn Station in New York City to Union Station in Los Angeles, giving me ample time to think and muse, especially as it wasn’t easy for me to sleep in a bouncy and rattling train.

One of the memorable experiences was a two-hour conversation with a young Amish man I befriended in the café car as we were crossing the Colorado mountains. Jonas was traveling with his wife and other family members from Indiana to Los Angeles, and eventually on to Tijuana, Mexico, where he could find cheaper dental treatment. (Amish are prohibited to fly, but boats and trains are permissible). I learned that the Amish have no concept of divorce or annulment. That made me think about Danielle and David’s wedding, and marriage in general.  What really makes a bayit ne’eman– a faithful or a strong home?

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel in Pirkei Avot, the Talmudic ethical tractate, says, “The world stands on three things: Justice, Truth, and Peace,” that humans operate between their need to live the truth and their need for peace, with justice in the center, balancing individual truth and the communal peace. Those who look for absolute truth may sacrifice peace, and those who look only for peace may sacrifice the truth.

The Talmud tells us that our first house, the Temple in Jerusalem, was destroyed because of arguments over the smallest things, the smallest letter of the law. They fought over the little pointy end at the top of the yod, the smallest Hebrew letter. In his 1878 poem, Judah Leib (Leon) Gordon — in the time of the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment — criticizes the rabbis for paying too much attention to the letter of the law, while a woman remains aguna, chained to her abandoning husband. On the other hand, those who avoid any confrontation, may avoid the truth of reality, and perhaps push peace farther away.

In Parashat Naso in the Book of Numbers, we read the story of the woman whose husband suspects her of infidelity, and of the ritual she must endure — drinking the bitter water concocted by the High Priest in the Temple to prove her innocence (or guilt).  Our rabbis explain that the bitterness of the water comes from dipping this very portion of the Torah into the water, allowing the ink to dissolve. However, the name of God is written on it, and it dissolves as well, something downright forbidden. But the Midrash explains that God loves the concept of shalom bayit — peace in the house — so much that He allows even His own name to be erased.

But which comes first, truth or peace? Well, truth must be at the core of everything. But we can at times fudge the truth for the sake of peace, such as telling a bride she is beautiful, even if that may not be so. In that case, one must first recognize the truth, but then immediately pursue peace. The Prophet Zechariah tells us that these are the things you are to do: “Speak the truth to each other, and render true and sound judgement in your courts that are just and lead to peace. Then, when both the truth and peace coexist, the days of mourning and fast will become celebratory days.”

Marriage is like boarding a train ride across the country. It keeps swinging and bouncing, rattling and shaking, while we try to enjoy the view and the company. Sometimes you have to get off the train, take a breather, but stay the course. As long as the conversation between truth and peace is maintained, we will arrive at our destination — a faithful and peaceful home.

May God bless us with peace,

—Rabbi Gadi Capela