Want to be a matchmaker? It’s not as easy as you might think

I had to gently tell the last correspondent that actually this newspaper is not in the official shidduch business. However, I would certainly do my best to catch her a catch. Could she kindly complete the attached application form so I could start fishing?

Being the JC’s Cilla (younger readers might need to google), organiser of our Blind Date column, is something I take rather seriously and which, as you will have gleaned from the above, elicits interest from across the community.

It is also a task to which I dedicate not inconsiderable time, and certainly more thought than the readers who apply for a dinner date for their son or daughter or friend on the JC’s dime without checking whether said son or daughter or friend is up for the experience.Last week, for example, I excitedly rang two singletons with the news that I had found them someone lovely only to be told they had no idea who had signed them up and they weren’t interested, todah very much.

Then again, I do understand where the enthusiastic parents and friends are coming from. The matchmaking impulse runs deep in our people, and with good reason. The Gemara tells us that before every baby is born Hashem proclaims who their beshert will be, which strongly suggests matches are made in heaven. And the Talmud also decrees that if you manage to successfully set up three couples you have secured your place in Gan Eden.

Whether or not you believe this, there is little doubt that bringing Jews together in this antisemitic moment is a mitzvah. Since October 7, online romance has often become deeply unpleasant for Jews who must navigate watermelon emojis, Palestinian flags and “no Zionists” (and we all know what that really means) proclamations on mainstream dating sites. And while some apps, such as Hinge, allow the user to filter under religion that doesn’t always work for secular Jews who simply want to filter out the antisemites.

Yes, I know, there are also Jewish sites such as JDate or JSwipe. But in the words of a friend’s 31-year-old daughter “there’s no one on them”. By which she means there is no one on them a) whom she’s interested in getting to know better b) whom she doesn’t already know.

For this is the other big problem of dating in the Jewish world: over familiarity. One unintended consequence of all the marvellous Jewish schools the community has built for our children is that they effectively grow up as brothers and sisters who struggle to see each romantically. Which, in turns, means it feels exciting to date non-Jews when they get to university and beyond.

And while some of my best friends are not Jews, to adapt the gag, dating them isn’t great for Jewish continuity, is it? Especially if we admit the uncomfortable truth that some sections of the community do not excel, let’s say, at absorbing non-Jews.

And let’s not get started on the oys, rather than the joys, of meeting one’s beshert offline in this digital age. I honestly can’t remember the last time I heard that anyone under the age of 50 met their Yiddishe significant other in a bookshop or on the dancefloor. Can you?

What a balagan, you might reasonably say. But specialist help is at hand. Aleeza Ben Shalom, the Cupid of Netflix’s Jewish Matchmaking is in London Town next month and she wants your tuchus on a seat for a live matchmaking event. Come along and learn from the expert how to put perfect couples together. The veteran yentl has sent more than 250 couples to the chupah during her 15-plus years in the business, so it’s got to be worth trying.

As is going on a JC Blind Date, I must add. Unlike Aleeza, I am not an official shadchan but, to paraphrase Cilla, I am absolutely planning on buying a hat some time soon.

Book your tickets for Aleeza’s live matchmaking event here

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