Leah [pseudonym] is a 21 year old assistant preschool teacher in a beis yaakov school and part time college student. Sweet, social, and sincere, she gets along well with her family, spends time daily with friends, dates regularly, and enjoys her work. But underneath her orthodontic smile, she's feeling personally under-stimulated. She describes a chronic lack of excitement, bordering on apathy, about her life, some of which she traces back to her schooling. Growing up, she had attended the school where she now works, alongside many other fellow alumnae.
"I actually had a pretty good experience with school. I was a well-behaved kid; I wanted adults to like me, and they usually did. I never had much of a problem with rules anyway. Our school was pretty academic- we learned a ton of information- we were way ahead of my classmates in our Israel seminary. Our school had an intense 'bekiyus' program, where every year we memorized more and more facts, quotes, lists, and laws, taking cumulative tests to reinforce our knowledge. A lot of the girls hated those tests, and the studying was stressful. But I kind of appreciated having all this information at my fingertips. Just now, looking back on it all, it just felt and still feels kind of tasteless. I know all this impressive data, and I follow the rules. And I don't mind, but there's no connection, and little emotion. I remember times where girls would try to raise deeper questions, about meaning and purpose, the "why" questions. Most of the time the teachers were more focused on covering textual material for the tests. If we tried to probe beyond that, I think they thought we were just trying to waste time. When they did offer a bit more philosophy, it had kind of a packaged, scripted quality about it. We found ourselves memorizing what to write on exams even for the 'inspiration' questions, based on how they had almost told us to feel, what they wanted to hear. I never really minded, because it sort of made sense. It was familiar, because we'd heard the same ideas so many times. But now I just don't really feel like I really analyzed or internalized much. I look, talk, and even act the part, and I'm not unhappy. But I just don't know how much deep or creative thinking I've ever really invested in figuring it all out- myself- who I want to be, personally, religiously, professionally- I just kind of inhaled information, spit it back out as needed, and went with the flow. And now, I don't know- it leaves me feeling sort of hollow and dissatisfied."
Leah is actually an amalgam of other young women like her, a typology. She could be viewed as a "success story" from her school's perspective; the "system" ostensibly worked for her. Some schools even refer to their students as "products". Yet in the safety and privacy of therapy, she challenges the process, and can try to figure out what she needs to correct in order to feel more integrated.
The other day, I was reading a Rashi at the beginning of this week's parsha, which I've seen dozens of times before, but it struck me in a more contemporary way. The opening words of Parshat Mishpatim simply introduce the upcoming commandments. G-d tells Moshe: "These are the rules which you will place before them."
Rashi comments: The Holy, Blessed One [that's G-d] said to Moshe: "Let it not even occur to you to say: 'I will teach them the chapter or the rule two or three times, until it's ordered in their mouths according to its wording. But I won't bother myself to help them understand the reasoning and explanations behind it.'" Therefore it says: "that you should place before them" like a table which is set and prepared for eating, before a person.
This Rashi pithily encapsulates the scholastic hazard of excessively rote learning. G-d is telling Moshe: "Don't even THINK about educating this way: 'I will lecture repeatedly, obligating them to memorize concrete words and facts to the point of easy regurgitation. Then they will know it exactly as it's written; it will be easy lip service. But I don't need to give it color, flavor, taste or personal meaning. I don't need to entertain tangential questions or ideological difficulties.' "Don't even think about teaching that way!" G-d says. Instead, how should we teach?
Set it before them appetizingly. Like a table, decorated and prepared for a meal. No one wants to eat tasteless food. No one wants to eat when he's not had a chance to cultivate an appetite, when the food looks bland, stale, colorless, or unappealing. Our bodies don't respond to food that way, and our minds and souls don't assimilate moral messages that way. The Dubno Maggid once said: "Just as food is not sweet without any hunger, an answer is not satisfying without developing a question."
The Hebrew word used in the Rabbinic literature, including this Rashi, for "reason" is "ta'am." This actually means flavor or taste. The "reason" (siba) we do mitzvos is that G-d commanded them. The "ta'am" is added impetus, it's what makes them pleasant. The laws introduced in this parsha are called mishpatim, which is the term generally used for laws that appeal to natural human understanding, as opposed to chukim, whose rationale are divine and transcendent; beyond the scope of normal human comprehension. When we give our children and ourselves the gifts of exploring the brilliance of mishpatim, we also strengthen the foundation for the acceptance of chukim.
Let's encourage the questions, and take the trouble to answer them- not only dogmatically but dialectically. Let's develop the curiosity, the intellectual creativity, that will enable young people like Leah to learn and develop with critical thinking, genuine interest and eventual passion- with feeling and flavor, the way G-d instructed in the first place.
Have you ever wondered how often people engage in sexual activity?
Or how often is optimal for healthy, happily married couples to aim for?
(I purposely used the euphemism “be intimate” in the title because often, people who ask this question in the framework of “supposed to” are uncomfortable with the more direct language of “have sex.” They may prefer to say things like : “be together, do it, make love, have relations, etc.” Whatever works:)
Couples therapists get this question a lot, especially from people who feel like they didn't or don't have enough information in the area of sexuality education.
It’s a legitimate curiosity, but the answer may be unsatsifying.
Firstly: “supposed to” is not a great framework for healthy sex. It works better when the focus is on mutual pleasure, not obligation or comparison.
Second: Frequency is not something that is mandated. Not psychologically, not legally, not Biblically.
It’s determined by and customized to each couple.
There is a Medrash that describes this, and is quoted by Rashi in this week’s Torah portion (I’m writing this the week of VaYishlach, but you can read it any week:)
When Yaakov sent gifts of livestock to his brother Esav, the Torah lists in great detail, the numbers and species of all the animals in the caravan.
Why do we care how many he-goats and she-goats there were?
The answer offered is that the ratio of male to female animals was determined by how often they needed to mate, which was determined by how strenuously they worked. The Medrash extrapolates an analogy to human mating schedules. (The paradigm used by the Talmudic literature is phrased in terms of a husband’s requirement to be available for his wife, not the reverse, but sex should always be consensual both ways.)
The Medrash says that men of leisure might be available daily, laborers twice weekly, donkey drivers once a week, camel drivers ones a month, and sailors/ those who travel for work, every six months.
Of course these are just some examples but Rashi goes on to explain:
“From here we learn that this need is not equal to every person [or couple.]” It depends on the couple’s individual schedules, emotional, and physical limitations and needs.
I’ve heard many people say that they were initially under the impression that couples only have sex when they want to conceive a baby. They were genuinely shocked to learn otherwise. This is not so ludicrous, when you consider the fact that many young people are taught about sex only in the framework of “how babies are made” if that much. Of course, most couples have far more sexual activity than they do children or attempts to conceive them.
It’s a legitimate query to ask how often couples have sex, but there isn’t a one size fits all answer.
Naturally there are some broad, cultural averages, and data. The most commonly quoted one is approximately once a week, but the numbers range significantly, and fluctuate within each couple based on many variables, such as stages of life like pregnancies, having babies and young children, medical or situational factors, and other variables that often make it challenging or more feasible. So please do not use that average to shame yourself or your partner for wanting more or less than that!
The healthiest answer to "how often should a couple be intimate is “as often as works well for both of them at each stage and season of life.”
Desire discrepancies and changes in libido over time are normal, but if you're finding that yours or your partner's are feeling disruptive to your relationship, please take the time to have a loving, strategizing conversation about it with your spouse, read up on the subject, and if necessary reach out for help.
Check out my course!
A Religious Families Guide to Healthy Holy Sex Education: Sacred Not Secret
Elisheva Liss, LMFT is a psychotherapist in private practice. Her book, Find Your Horizon of Healthy Thinking, is available on Amazon.com. She can be reached for sessions or speaking engagements at speaktosomeone@gmail.com More of her content can be found at ElishevaLiss.com