Before marrying my grandmother, Rebbetzin Chava Hecht, my grandfather, Rabbi Jacob J. Hecht told her, “I will marry you only if I’ll be the head of the house.” My grandmother responded, “You can be the head, but I’ll be the neck, and wherever the neck turns, the head follows.”

Design
Ches is the eighth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The original ches in the Torah script is a fusion of the preceding two letters: vav and zayin. On top of the vav and zayin is a chatoteres, a bridge that unites the two. In essence, vav represents the male, the husband, while Zayin represents the female, the wife. The bridge on top that unites and links the two is G-d.

The Maggid of Mezritch explains the verse “A woman of valor is the crown of her husband” as: the zayin, the crown, signifies the position of the woman of valor safeguarding the man.

The ches design also represents another type of bridge. To complete the relationship between vav (man) and zayin (woman), the two are united beneath the chuppah, a marriage canopy.

Indeed, the structural form of the ches suggests a canopy. The word chuppah, begins with a ches, for chuppah means ches po—ches (G-d, man and woman) is po (here). Ches is the heart of marriage. Man and woman are truly united when they are joined beneath the chuppah with their third partner, G-d.

The Talmud tells us that if man and woman (ish v’isha) are meritorious, the Divine presence rests between them. The word ish, man, is spelled, alef, yud, shin. Isha, woman, is spelled alef, shin, hei.

We find the same letters alef and shin in both ish and isha Alef and shin spell eish, the Hebrew word for fire. The fire between man and woman fuels a passionate relationship. But if only this flame ignites the marriage, the fire of passion can easily be transformed into a fire of destruction. G-d must also play a role in the marriage, and He is: the yud of the ish, the man, when combined with the hei of the isha, the woman, denotes the name of G-d.

The comparison of a husband and wife’s relationship to fire illustrates the secret to a healthy marriage.

There is fire and passion when two people decide to marry. Yet, several years down the line the excitement may be gone. No fire. Where did the passion go?

When a relationship begins, it is like a bonfire, and who needs to tend a bonfire? One thinks that it will last forever. But in truth, the flame has to be stoked. For example, a husband can surprise his wife with flowers for Shabbos. A wife can buy her husband a gift. They can attend a class together or establish a time to learn a portion of the Torah every week. They can take romantic walks.

Additionally, a fire cannot be sustained unless the couple works together toward a common goal. Collaborating on projects bonds husband and wife. For example, planning a Shabbos meal with guests is a great way to bond. The important thing to remember is that one shouldn’t expect a marriage to last by itself.

Unfortunately today, more than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. The key to maintaining fire in a marriage is nurturing the kernels of communication and purpose. The two partners must work together to fortify the chatoteres, the bridge, which unites them and binds them both to G-d.

“Gematria” = 8
The numerical value of ches is eight. On the eighth day after his birth, a boy has a bris. What does a bris have to do with marriage? Well, one can say simply that after marriage there will be children, and therefore, a bris. But beyond that, the number eight represents transcendence—a higher level beyond nature and intellect.

The world of time revolves around the number seven: the seven days of the week, the seventh year being a Sabbatical year, the observance of a Hakhel year every seven years. Eight, however, represents transcendence, a level beyond the natural order.

The Midrash tells us of a debate between Isaac and Ishmael, Abraham’s two sons. Ishmael said, “I’m better than you because I had my bris when I was thirteen years old. Therefore I went into it rationally. I was old enough to make my choice. And I still remember it to this day. You, on the other hand, Isaac, don’t remember anything; you never had a choice. You didn’t have the opportunity to agree to it. It was done by force, without your consent.”

Isaac looked at Ishmael and said, “On the contrary. I’m better, because I had my bris at eight days rather than at thirteen years.”

What did Isaac mean? The word bris means “covenant,” a bond between two sides. If two people like each other, they say, “Now we are treating each other nicely, we’re friends. But what about the future? Let’s sit down and make a pact to ensure that we’ll be friends forever. Forever means that even though there may come a time when, perhaps logically, we should separate—maybe we’re not getting along, or one of us is causing the other pain—this pact will keep us together.”

This bris is the pact a Jew makes with G-d on the eighth day of his life. One can say to G-d, “I’m not perfect and I don’t follow Your Torah to the letter of the law. But You are my G-d. Therefore You will protect me, You will sustain and watch over me.” On the other hand, even if G-d doesn’t treat us as we think we should be treated, even if we are in golus (exile), we won’t reject Him. We won’t forsake Him, because we have a bris—a covenant beyond intellect—demanding that we stay together. Our relationship with G-d is a matter of fact, not a matter of opinion.

We can thus understand the advantage of a bris on the eighth day versus one at thirteen years. Even though a person has free will in the latter case, his choice is made on a rational level. In contrast, a bris performed on the eighth day represents one’s bond with G-d that defies all levels of intellect and the natural order.

In the same way, the Jewish people’s marriage to G-d is also a relationship that transcends logic. It is a supra-rational covenant, bonding both parties for eternity.

Meaning
The meaning of ches is chayos, which means “life.” Life can only be considered true when it is infused with G-dliness. Our body by itself is temporary, and anything temporary cannot be true. True life is immortal and everlasting. The way one acquires everlasting life is by connecting with G-d through Torah study and the performance of mitzvos.

The Zohar tells us that before an individual gets married, he is only “half a person.” It is only when he unites with his bashert (soulmate) in marriage that he becomes whole and complete. Since marriage allows one to connect to G-d in the ultimate sense, then being united with one’s soulmate is considered “true life.”

Furthermore, the AriZal expounds on this idea of completeness in terms of the specific mitzvos that a woman is not obligated to perform, explaining that she receives the merit of the mitzvah when it is performed by her soulmate. Soulmates are partners in this regard; even before their marriage.

Because certain mitzvos can only be done within the context of marriage, this process of shared merit is not considered complete until the two halves of the soul unite under the chuppah. G-d’s participation in the marriage is the chatoteres, the bridge, which brings the union to fruition and creates everlasting chayos.

The Talmud states “Making a match between two people is as difficult as the Splitting of the Red Sea.” Obviously, this statement raises a few questions. What does the Red Sea have to do with marriage? And how can we call something that G-d accomplishes “difficult”? G-d is omnipotent, infinite. Yet we say that His bringing about a marriage is as difficult as the Splitting of the Red Sea! And why pick the Red Sea? In the grand scheme of things, why not mention something even more intimidating—like the creation of the universe?

The answer is as follows. When G-d created the world, He formed it ex nihilo—from nothing into something. If a contractor is given the job of building a house from scratch, it is relatively easy. There are no standing walls to bother him and no limits to constrain him. He is able to do what he wants to create the perfect home. But what happens when an person moves into a dilapidated home? What if the walls are crooked and he has to straighten them out? What if the pre-existing plumbing is a shambles? It is a lot harder to make that structure into a perfect home.

We find a parallel in the Splitting of the Red Sea. The nature of water is to flow. But G-d took the fluid nature of water and transformed it into solid rock. He had to change the substance from its elemental norm.

The same is true of marriage. Here are two different people from different homes with different backgrounds. It is not challenging enough that one is a male and one is a female. Beyond that, he likes the window open; she likes the window shut. He likes the country, she likes the city. His mother made gefilte fish this way, her mother made gefilte fish that way. These opposites come together and try to merge as one. For the marriage to work, the nature and constitution of each individual must change.

It is as difficult to create a marriage as it is to split the Red Sea, because for two people to come together, each must change his or her ingrained habits and ways. For a marriage to survive, and thrive, it needs a third element, a third partner, G-d, who helps the two natures to fuse.

At the Splitting of the Sea, G-d blew a wind all night long to keep the water standing. Why? Because if we are going to transform the very nature of something, we must continuously breath new life and force into that element. Therefore a marriage—which requires constant change by husband and wife—must be continuously infused with the spirit of G-d. This is the true ches chayos: man, woman and G-d uniting in the eternal covenant of marriage.