Navigating Tensions: A Rabbi’s Insight on Relationships

As part of the program for training couples' coaches, a group process takes place. I want to share with you a fascinating situation that occurred there. Of course, I changed identifying details.

Shmuel, a student at the training school, opened up this week and began to speak. Suddenly, Neriya interrupted his flow of speech, venting bitterly into the room: "I don’t understand why Shmuel is getting the floor today. I’ve been here for a long time, and I’m never given space!"

I decided to remain silent and observe from the side, watching how things would unfold.

What actually happened was that Shmuel fell silent, and Neriya simply continued to speak and share, saying: "I can no longer cope with my son, Yedidya. Everything I want and aspire for—he does the opposite: I ask him to come home by 10 PM—he comes back at midnight; I ask him to respect me and wear a regular kippah—he deliberately buys a tiny one; I want him to wear a white shirt—he switches to blue. In short, enough, I’m exhausted from these arguments and fights. And understand," Neriya continued to describe, "it’s not that he wants to go this way, but it seems that whatever I ask—he looks to do just the complete opposite! So what do you suggest I do? Kick him out of the house? Lock him out? I feel like I’ve failed at parenting, you understand?" Neriya finished his words with a heavy sigh, casting desperate eyes to the ground.

At this point, I did something that really surprised Neriya. I turned to Shmuel—the young man who had started to speak first in the group—and asked him: "What happened, Shmuel, that you decided to remain silent in front of Neriya and not continue speaking?" Shmuel smiled awkwardly and replied: "The truth is, I just knew it wouldn’t work; it was clear to me that I wouldn’t succeed against Neriya."

"So you stayed silent from the start," I clarified.

"Yes, that’s right!" Shmuel responded.

I then turned back to Neriya and asked him: "How do you feel about what Shmuel says?"

"To be honest, I know this situation isn’t pleasant for me, but there’s a lot of truth in his words. It happens repeatedly that people around me feel uncomfortable, maybe we could call it 'threatened'..."

"And what about Yedidya, your son?" I asked.

Neriya was momentarily in shock. He hadn’t planned for such a turn. He thought for a few moments, then locked his gaze on me and said: "Thank you! That was a really accurate insight, and if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand, I wouldn’t have understood it, and I could have never known there was another side to the story."

Dear readers, I want us to understand a very simple idea: Let’s imagine two people pulling on a rope from either side. What will ultimately happen is that the rope will break.

But if until now we thought that to prevent this break, both sides need to let go, it’s crucial to understand that that’s not the case! It’s enough for just one of them to let go—and then the tension will cease.

This is exactly what happens between partners, and in every dynamic between people: every fight or argument has two sides. One pulls from one end, and she pulls from the other side, but because we’re dealing with souls and not just a simple tug, it’s important to note a significant distinction: even if one side decides to concede, often they do so from a place of control, not from a place of true release. In other words—they release conditionally, in order to gain something.

And then, what happens on the other side influences their choices. If they see the other side taking it against them, their anger will be dreadful, because they conceded and ultimately lost.

But if the person who concedes does so from a place of choosing to surrender, then the results won’t affect them, because they only manage their own space.

"The coupling of a person is as difficult as the splitting of the Red Sea." What’s the connection? What relationship is there between the splitting of the Red Sea and pairing?

The people of Israel were in a state of helplessness, the sea before them and the Egyptians behind them, and then Nachshon ben Aminadav came and threw himself into the sea. Meaning, now he was in complete helplessness, like a baby at his mother's breast, and from this place, trust could grow and be built, and then "they believed in Hashem and in Moses His servant."

So too in relationships: partnership creates a tug-of-war from both ends. When each one pulls to one side, it brings about situations of helplessness, and precisely from there, one can rebuild self-trust, whether by agreeing to let go or by engaging in processes of examining fears and reducing them.

Rabbi Aryeh Ettinger is a counselor and founder of a school for training relationship counselors.