On their first date, Dina decided to put Yanki (names have been changed for privacy) to the test. “I wanted to see how attentive he was, so in the middle of the date, I said, ‘I’m so thirsty,’ just to see if he’d offer to buy me a drink,” she recalls. “Every so often, I’d say something to gauge his reactions and check if he’d continue showing interest and asking questions.”
Dina isn’t alone in this approach. Michal, on her second date with Mordy, asked to see his medical records, inquired about his financial situation, and Moshy expressed a desire to meet Talia’s parents and spend a Sabbath with them. For the record, all of them passed their respective tests. This is the reality when you’re ultra-Orthodox, newly divorced, and raising children—having learned the hard way what truly matters in a relationship.
Dina, Michal, and Moshy all met their first spouses through traditional matchmaking. At the time, they were between 18 and 21 years old. Michal, for example, who belongs to the Hasidic stream, had a single meeting with her prospective husband before the deal was sealed with a handshake. Shortly after her wedding, however, she discovered that her husband had an active mental illness, and the clock on their marriage began ticking.
Ending a marriage in such a close-knit community, where family life holds supreme value, takes courage. Divorce still carries a stigma in Hasidic society. But, fortunately for Michal, her fears were unfounded. Her family supported her, her children were not ostracized by their schools, and even her neighbors didn’t turn their backs on her. When a friend told her about Mordy, also newly divorced and Hasidic, Michal agreed to meet him for a blind date. This time, she approached the meeting with a clearer understanding of the traits and qualities she sought in a partner.
“I mainly wanted to see if there was a foundation of friendship and mutual care,” Michal shares. “I constantly checked in with myself—do I feel comfortable? Am I enjoying myself? I took my time.”
“How much time?” I ask. “Five months before we decided we were right for each other,” she answers.
Moshy also admits that after experiencing a first marriage devoid of emotional connection, he had a much better sense of what he needed in a relationship. “I paid attention to our conversations—did she interrupt me? I wanted to see how she interacted with her family and get a sense of her vibe. When she invited me to spend a Sabbath with them, I fell in love,” he says.
"Second marriages are a remedy for divorce"
I met Dina, Michal, Moshy, and other couples while facilitating a support group for ultra-Orthodox second marriages. The group, founded in partnership with Jerusalem’s Center for Young Ultra-Orthodox Families, was the first psycho-educational program in Israel for ultra-Orthodox blended families. These families include at least one partner with children from a previous relationship.
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Entering their world was both intriguing and daunting. Research on blended families often focuses on individualistic societies, where autonomy and personal needs are prioritized. In contrast, ultra-Orthodox couples navigate their relationships within a collectivist framework that emphasizes the needs of the community and expects individuals to conform.
Blended families face unique dynamics and complexities requiring different tools than those of nuclear families—tools that often clash with communal expectations. For example, questions arise about parental roles in a patriarchal society, merging religious practices when each partner follows slightly different traditions and more.
Yet, my fears were quickly allayed. These couples wanted to talk mostly about their relationships. “For us, it feels like a first marriage. We got married for ourselves,” they told me.
From matchmaking to autonomy
The contrasts between first and second marriages are eye-opening. In a society with strict gender segregation, matchmaking is the only avenue to meet a prospective spouse and start a family. Professional matchmakers pair couples based on family background, lifestyle, values, functional expectations, and other criteria. As Michal explains, “If enough boxes are checked and there’s no glaring reason to say no, the answer is yes.”
Unsurprisingly, many of those entering a second marriage are wary of matchmakers and questionnaires. Instead, connections are often made through a neighbor whose sister’s son is newly divorced or a mother whose friend’s daughter just got her divorce finalized. These introductions typically involve partners of the same marital status.
Unlike traditional matchmaking, the couple now manages their meetings independently, without external interference. Instead of focusing on lifestyle compatibility, they share emotions and engage in deep, revealing conversations. For many, this leads to a powerful and unfamiliar feeling—falling in love.
While first marriages typically benefit from uninterrupted couple time to build intimacy, learn each other’s habits, and weave shared dreams, second marriages must balance their budding relationship with the demands of existing family dynamics. Blended families start with two people choosing each other but come with additional members who may not share the same enthusiasm.
This doesn’t mean blended families are inherently problematic, but they do require unique approaches to succeed. Chief among these is time—time to build bonds and integrate children gradually. In a society where physical contact before marriage is forbidden, taking things slow is a challenge, especially when emotions run high.
“After a few dates, when we knew this was it, the physical tension was so intense that we realized we couldn’t hold out much longer. We met during Hanukkah, and just before Passover, we were married,” Dina confesses.
For some, the gap between divorce and remarriage is just a few months. With societal pressures favoring a traditional family unit, children may struggle with feelings of displacement. “I consulted a therapist who told me that divorce is traumatic for children. If your daughter says, ‘My parents are divorced,’ people will react with pity. But if she says, ‘My mom is getting married,’ they’ll say, ‘How wonderful!’ Everyone agrees—being divorced in the ultra-Orthodox world is worse than a second marriage. A second marriage isn’t a remedy for the first; it’s a remedy for the divorce,” Michal concludes.
"Widows are saints"
The reality is different for widows and widowers. In ultra-Orthodox society, widows are revered as saints. They are believed to have special spiritual power, with people seeking their prayers and blessings.
Esty, a widow with seven children, shares her experience: “In my community, everyone wants to help a widow—not just organized charities but family members, too. They argue over who gets to host her for holidays. When a widow’s group organized a trip, people told me, ‘Go, I’ll take care of the kids.’ I’d find money deposited into my account without even knowing who sent it. The moment I remarried, all of that ended. Marrying again is like a downgrade,” she says with a smile.
For widowers, the situation is different. They often remarry quickly. “They get ‘snatched up,’” Esty laughs. “For every widower, there are three widows or divorced women. But I think it happens because of societal expectations—people assume men can’t run a household or raise children alone.”
Whether couples are widowed or divorced, moving in together usually happens fast. With children on both sides, the excitement of a new relationship can clash with the reality of managing a blended family. “Where’s the romance we were just starting to build?” they wonder.
Still, all agree that second marriages are far more egalitarian. “The chores have doubled, the cooking is endless, and my husband, who didn’t know how to do anything before, is fully involved now,” Dina says. “But not all women are as willing to let go as I am. I see men eager to help and women so used to handle everything themselves that they can’t delegate. It’s exhausting and affects the relationship.”
What helps to maintain the relationship?
“First, sharing household responsibilities,” Dina emphasizes. “In my first marriage, the kids were mine, the kitchen was mine, and my husband was just an occasional helper. In a second marriage, many women fall into the same trap, but most quickly realize they can’t do it all. We also make sure to have a weekly date. It could be on the balcony after the kids are asleep, a walk in the park, or attending a workshop together—like yours. It’s still a date for us.”
“Investing in the relationship comes from wanting to enjoy it, not out of obligation,” Michal adds. “I feel this marriage is deeper than my first and not something to take for granted. We entered it knowing from the start that it requires effort. That understanding is far more critical in a second marriage.”