Introduction

• What this is (and what it isn’t)
• History of Jewish Same-Sex weddings
• How to think about building a wedding
• Textual integrity and the permissibility of changing brachot
• Additional notes about liturgical language

The traditional Jewish wedding is a series of rituals and customs that have coalesced over the last two millennia into a singular ceremony. This ceremony pulls from the halachic guidelines set forth in the Mishnah and Gemara, as well as from centuries of minhag and folk practice, ultimately yielding a sequence that is largely uniform across the Jewish world. The idea of a halachic same-sex wedding would have been dismissed as an impossibility just a few decades ago. What could such a wedding look like, and how can it remain rooted in halachic models and traditional practices?

As more same-sex couples from observant/traditional backgrounds and persuasions marry, it is important to continue exploring how a same-sex wedding could be structured and engage in the kind of rich debate that is so central to our people. This is an attempt to break down the Jewish wedding and provide analysis and discussion, and a framework for couples to craft a wedding that resonates with them.

In this effort, we are aided by those who came before, particularly Jewish feminist thinkers of the twentieth century who endeavored to create a non-gendered wedding. We also draw from the growing literature around Jewish same-sex weddings, and gather many of those resources into one place for the first time.

What this is (and what it isn’t)

The historic Jewish wedding follows a prescribed list of rituals and events. This project is a collection of explanations, analyses, and critiques of the elements of the historic Jewish wedding, proposals for templates of same-sex Jewish weddings, and links to existing scholarship. The content is organized in the order of the service. It also features considerations for those planning same-sex weddings, including personal reflections and additional resources and topics relating to those weddings. It is not a defense of these weddings in general, nor a justification of same-sex relationships or homosexuality within halachah. Indeed, we take their existence and their value as a given and begin from there.

The contributions included here come from rabbis, scholars, and married couples from across the Jewish spectrum. As a result, the approaches differ greatly in their desire to hew to the historic texts versus creating blessings and rituals that are entirely new. The reader will also notice that the contributions respond to each other, building on ideas throughout time and space, similar to other famous compendia of Jewish knowledge. In this way, we tie ourselves to our history not only through our texts but through the mechanisms of debate and study.

Working under the assumption that couples interested in such a wedding will have a working knowledge of certain Hebrew terms and prayers, not all terms will be translated or defined in detail. Interested parties are encouraged to utilize other resources—like My Jewish Learning, Chabad, BimBam, and literally 90 million other results for “Jewish wedding” online—to supplement this one as needed.

Additionally, this document includes many examples of blessings and texts in Hebrew and Aramaic, which are translated largely fairly literally to convey the direct meaning of the words. There are many beautiful and poetic translations out there, including intentionally non-gendered translations and translations intended for the LGBT community. Some sages argue that saying blessings in any secular language fulfils the obligation of blessing God, though the original Hebrew is preferred. (See tractate Berachot 40b, as well as Orach Chaim 62:2, with Mishnah Berurah 62:3.) Despite this, discussing and listing the many non-gendered English-language translations and adaptations of these blessings is currently beyond the scope of this project. Many of the sources included here were created with accompanying translations, and those who are interested can search for them.

History of Jewish Same-Sex weddings

Feminist thinkers began to deconstruct the Jewish marriage ceremony in the mid-20th century to make it less gendered. The Reform movement officially recognized same-sex partnerships in 1993, and affirmed to advocate for civil laws allowing same-sex marriage in 1996. The Conservative movement published a wide-ranging tshuva on homosexuality in 2006 (Homosexuality, Human Dignity & Halakhah: A Combined Responsum for the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards), which effectively sanctioned same-sex relationships, though it left the mechanics of recognizing such unions open. This was a major step, since in 2001, only a handful of Conservative rabbis were willing to officiate at such weddings. It followed up with a set of proposed ceremonies and texts for same-sex weddings in 2012 (Rituals and Documents of Marriage and Divorce for Same-Sex Couples), which are included herein. Other movements have also added to this conversation, with contributions from Reconstructionist and Renewal thinkers. The Orthodox movement has not, and likely will not, participate in same-sex weddings. (Unlike Reform and Conservative, Orthodoxy does not have a single governing body and is represented by a number of distinct institutions.) However, individual Orthodox rabbis have voiced their support and have even officiated at same-sex weddings. In the interim, rabbis, scholars, and couples have been composing ceremonies on their own and with rabbinic guidance.

How to think about building a wedding

Creating a model for a Jewish same-sex wedding involves a careful weighing of multiple considerations. How closely should the liturgy and rituals of a same-sex wedding ceremony match that of the historic ceremony? Is it best to stick to the historic wording as closely as possible, whether to connect us to history and tradition, or to emphatically claim space for us within that tradition? Or does it show more deference to that history by leaving it aside and creating a parallel model? Alternatively, does rejecting a historic gendered model require enthusiastic innovation? How do we balance an orthodox reluctance to invent new blessings with the importance of having meaningful liturgy? (See Textual Integrity discussion below). To answer those questions, we need to ask even more questions. What historical models exist on which to base a new ritual? What are the values we want to codify in such a ritual? Here are the thoughts of people who have attempted to tackle these questions in the creation of approaches contained herein.

Orrin Wolpert: Ideally, same‐sex couples would have been accepted throughout Jewish history and the same‐sex marriage ceremony would have evolved alongside the mixed‐sex marriage ceremony. In the absence of this history, we must develop a model for the modern‐day creation of such a ceremony.

In creating this model, we draw a parallel to the recitation of the morning blessings, Shacharit. At one point in this service, we recite a series of fifteen blessings, praising HaShem for everything from “distinguishing between morning and night” to “providing for our every need” to “not making us women.” However, as women began reciting Shacharit, a problem arose – what should women do with a blessing thanking HaShem for not making them women? The choice the Rabbis made is instructive. They did not advise women to say the blessing despite its inapplicability, nor did they advise women to simply omit it. Rather, they replaced the problematic blessing with one in which a woman can thank HaShem for “making her according to His will” while retaining the remaining fourteen blessings in their original form. In this way, the Rabbis kept as much of the original service as possible, while adapting the necessary section to encompass the experience of women.

Indeed, this is what we will do in designing our same‐sex marriage ceremony. We will draw on the wisdom and evolution of the mixed‐sex marriage ceremony, keeping all of the traditional elements that are applicable to us, while modifying any elements that are not applicable to our relationship.

Rabbi Steve Greenberg: In traditional Jewish circles, religious problems are framed first and foremost as legal or halakhic problems, problems of praxis. For the sake of this inquiry, we will set aside the questions of the halakhic legitimacy of gay relationships and their formalization, and focus instead on what form such ceremonies ought to take. Should we employ the existing rituals of matrimony used for heterosexual couples, and if not, what other options are available? From the perspective of the Jewish law, what ought a same-sex wedding to look like?

If we are to work through the question of same-sex marriage, we will have no recourse but to explore our religious traditions more deeply in order to understand how they have already conditioned our language, how they may be insidiously and inappropriately investing government in religious tests, and how they may still be able to inform, if not govern, the definition of marriage.

Rabbi Aaron Weininger: Same-sex kiddushin ceremonies must take into consideration all kinds of factors about which our ancestors were unaware. Any ceremony that incorporates queer theory but ignores the contributions of women’s voices and feminist thought, for example, misses an opportunity. We are breathing new life into halakhah. We recognize that the two Jewish people who stand before us want to be accountable to and responsible for, not beneath or outside of, the expectations of married couples in the Jewish community. Creating a ceremony that sanctifies commitment between two women or two men is necessary as we know sexual orientation and gender identity to be part of one’s authentic expression.

It is clear that traditional readings of halakhah do not offer precise details for our project. We would do well to consider new paradigms for living halakhah as an expression of our values, rooted in the Torah and in the lived experience of our people.

The metahalakhic values that shape the contours of halakhah, values that deepen our relationships with God and the Jewish people over millennia, can help us see the particulars of halakhah as a starting point. We must consider how we create a vision of holiness through law and not come to worship the law itself. Halakhah thrives best as an aspiration, not as a final destination of crisp, positivist formulas. As Robert Cover writes, “For every constitution there is an epic, for each decalogue a scripture. Once understood in the context of the narratives that give it meaning, law becomes not merely a system of rules to be observed, but a world in which we live.” Our religious practice can serve as a bridge, linking us to a vision of a world yet to be realized. Total submission to law does not guarantee a final destination in justice. A complex relationship with law and its ongoing development, in tandem with narrative, restores a moral vision to our world.

Dr. Debra Blank: (Excerpts from “Reflections Upon Creating Innovative, Jewish Life-Cycle Ritual”) I have observed that rituals celebrating same-sex unions tend to base themselves on the traditional Jewish wedding, appropriating its staging (the huppah), its language (the Sheva B’rakhot), its objects and actions (wine, rings, a ketubah-like document, the breaking of glass). While one might try to analyze these new rituals without referencing that heterosexual, inequitable ritual, one is willy-nilly forced into a comparative mode by virtue of such borrowings.

Even if the author asserts that a wholly new ritual is being crafted, whether out of respect for halakhic limitations or extra-Jewish ideology (This is not a wedding!), Jewishly knowledgeable guests will inevitably compare — whether correctly or not — the new ritual with the traditional wedding, simply because they are being asked to witness and celebrate the joining of two adults into some kind of commitment relationship. And if those in attendance notice familiar features — rings, wine, huppah — they will be all the more compelled to deduce an intended equivalent, no matter what the ritual is called or what the introductory words or explanatory booklet assert. Thus, any ritual’s author (or the couple) might want to ask him/herself what makes the traditional wedding a ‘successful’ ritual and how s/he can best appropriate that je ne sais quoi, exploiting it, even as it is transformed, reframed, or redefined.

The inevitable comparison should not force us into a comparative rut that establishes relative assessments reflecting negatively upon one ritual or the other (e.g., “Unlike the traditional wedding, the same-sex ceremony can’t. . .”; or, “Unlike a traditional wedding, the same-sex ritual doesn’t have to . . .”). The traditional Jewish heterosexual wedding is what it is. An innovative ritual that celebrates the union of a same-sex couple should be assessed on its own merits, even as it adopts and adapts elements of the traditional ritual.

But the inevitable comparison does force the question: Are you crafting a ritual that is intended to be an equivalent of the traditional wedding, or are you intending to create something completely new? Are you intending to make a political statement (the status of gays and lesbians in society) as much as a personal statement (mutual commitment), or are you intending something politically low-key that simply celebrates your relationship in the company of friends and family? Do you want a wedding, or something else? Ultimately (since we’re talking Jews here): Do you want to avoid halakhic problems, do you care not at all about halakhah, or do you davka want to tweak the halakhic system? …

Huppah, breaking glass, a ketubah-like document, the exchange of rings — each carries symbolic value that relates to a Jewish wedding, and using any of these in a same-sex ritual conveys the symbolic meaning of wedding, whether or not that’s intended. Moreover, speech can carry symbolic weight — for example, the use of ritualized and formularized Hebrew (such as a b’rakhah) signals to people that they are witnessing Jewish ritual. Similarly, hearing a specific b’rakhah can evoke contextualized associations — the Sheva B’rakhot (even in adapted form) invite the symbolic values attributed to marriage. They convey the additional symbolic benefit of contextualizing a same-sex ritual within the standard liturgical and ritual framework, suggesting a communal approbation rooted in Judaism.

When appropriating ritual templates that already have a contextualized meaning or when transposing liturgical units or specific b’rakhot to a new context, the original symbolic associations come along for the ride. Therefore, if you wish to create a ritual that does not parallel or evoke the traditional wedding, then you might want to reconsider using any of the Sheva B’rakhot. Likewise, hearing a b’rakhah associated with (for example) weekday Shah’rit or Havdalah in the context of a union ritual might be confusing — infelicitous — for the Jewishly educated listener. There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to invest the recontextualized b’rakhah with a new association — but you might ‘lose’ people mid-ritual who are distracted by a (in their opinion) misappropriation. …

But clearly the novelty of, and the lack of standardization among, the same-sex rituals threaten community: no author, participant, officiant, or guest has the comfort of participating in or witnessing a ritual that is widely practiced or familiar. Moreover, the goal of including those who feel disenfranchised from the larger community has to be weighed against the possibility of disenfranchising some who resist non-standard practice. What if a same-sex-union ritual alienates Jews who chafe at the theological notion of holiness applied to a same-sex couple, or at the appropriation of traditional liturgy for this purpose? …

If community is somehow affirmed, one can and will overlook novelty and lack of homogeneity. When the Ashkenazi Jewish tourist celebrates Passover in Israel, s/he willingly integrates the prevalent humus and rice into his/her understanding of community — not to mention only one seder. If it looks like a Jewish wedding (huppah), talks like a Jewish wedding (b’rakhot; ‘ketubah’ reading), and acts like a Jewish wedding (glass breaking followed by “Mazal tov!”), it probably is a Jewish wedding, even though there are two brides under the huppah. And this probably explains why — thus far, anyway, and whether intentionally or not — same-sex rituals privilege traditional liturgical formats, traditional b’rakhot, and traditional Jewish symbols, thereby establishing their authenticity and authority, and instilling social cohesion. Traditional language, action, and objects help the participant and guest to accept ritual novelty in the absence of the explicit approbation of tradition. Use of traditional liturgies (e.g., Sheva B’rakhot, even if adapted), objects (e.g., huppah), and actions (e.g., exchanging rings and drinking wine) express commitment to the larger Jewish community, build upon familiarity, foster ritual comfort, and enable people to respond appropriately to certain clues (e.g., yelling “Mazal tov!” when the glass is broken). Community is fostered by virtue of familiar ritual features that establish authenticity, precedent, and legitimacy. …

Familiarity with the ritual is necessary for the group to be able to anticipate and perceive the transition — and standardization provides this. Consequently, a ritual for a same-sex couple’s union seems like a no-win situation: If effective transition depends upon a known ritual, and known ritual depends upon standardization, how can a new ritual be effective? How does the author get the assembled to recognize the performative act and believe in the transition if the ritual is unfamiliar?

E&R: The main thing that we did is we started by thinking what the purpose and meaning of a wedding is for us. Once you know the answers to that, you can design the ceremony/event to answer those ideas. Our answer to the question of what the meaning and purpose of the wedding is: The wedding is a public act, and the important part of the wedding for us was bringing both our family and friends, as well as god, into the official public establishment of our relationship. This was especially challenging considering that R’s family is super traditional. We wanted them—along with everyone else of course—to take the ceremony seriously, and for all people attending to feel like there was a genuine religious ceremony happening. To do that, we were constantly walking the line between taking elements of the ceremony and changing them to suit us, and the opposite—saying that the existing ceremony applies “even” to us, and we can do it also.

It was beautiful and fun. But of course, totally not for everyone. We have friends whose ceremony was more legal, more about justice, more about social responsibility. It is, at the end of the day, a gift we have as gay couples that we have to invent our ceremony from nearly scratch. I wish straight couples would have to think of their ceremony and make such choices—weddings would be so much more personal and intentional.

Jeremy & Michael: When we first began the process of wedding planning, we both knew we wanted an Orthodox wedding. We didn’t want a specifically “gay” or “queerified” wedding, but rather a traditional wedding like our parents have had, and their parents before them, and the rest of our family and friends. Michael and I both identify as Modern Orthodox, and therefore we feel entitled to a Modern Orthodox wedding. The halachic disputes around gay marriage are irrelevant. We don’t believe our relationship is a sin. However others want to interpret that paradox is up to them.

As such, we still appreciated the ability to update our wedding and knew we had to modify for obvious reasons. We had female eidim, for example, and substituted “chatan v’chatan” when necessary. We had a bedeken, but swapped tallitot instead of uncovering a veil. Yet ultimately, we wanted any guest attending our wedding to leave feeling like they attended any other wedding. Only ours had two grooms.

When we first started discussing the idea of marriage even before getting engaged, we talked about our individual visions for what it would look like and they were identical. A lot of that has to do with our current involvement in Judaism too, and the fact that we go to a Modern Orthodox shul and expect the same treatment as all the other members. Michael and I don’t see ourselves as an exception in a Orthodoxy, we see ourselves as an ordinary couple in a community that is accepting of us. So that contributed to our thoughts for the wedding, that we wanted it to be seen as any other wedding within our community.

Rabbi Dr. Haviva Ner-David: As a straight post-denominational rabbi who has advocated for women’s rights and gay rights in Jewish ritual practice, and who has done much work in the area of Jewish marriage and divorce, I think that straight couples have much to learn from gay couples when it comes to designing their wedding ceremony. Opening up the question of how one publicly sanctifies in a Jewish way the union of same-sex couples—and the halakhic dialogue that entails—gives us viable options for sanctifying a heterosexual couple’s wedding in similar ways in order to reflect egalitarian values.

Like modern heterosexual Jewish couples, gay Jewish couples are trying to strike the balance between tradition and modernity. Yet one advantage same-sex couples have is that there is no traditional same-sex wedding Jewish ceremony. Of course, this is ideologically problematic. But it is fact. So once one makes peace with this reality, this can prove to be a blessing in disguise. As much as many of us look forward to the day we will stand beneath the chuppah, the traditional Jewish ceremony is not egalitarian and is highly gendered. Gay couples, therefore, are essentially starting from scratch to create a ceremony that reflects their own values yet also looks and feels like a Jewish wedding. …

As straight couples attend their gay friends’ wedding ceremonies and see all of the thought that went into creating their ceremonies, I would hope that they would not want to settle for less. Moreover, when they experience a truly egalitarian wedding ceremony that reflects their modern view of what marriage is meant to be, I should hope they would also not settle for less. This is the second way I see same-sex wedding ceremonies influencing male-female wedding ceremonies.

Textual integrity and the permissibility of changing brachot

One of the key questions involved in creating a ceremony for same-sex marriage is whether and how to adapt the historical text. There are a few values in conflict here. On the one hand, Jewish tradition has a reverence for texts and frequently thinks of them as immutable. On the other hand, Judaism also prizes the dignity of the individual. What is the ideal solution to formulate a liturgy for this kind of wedding? Does it honor tradition to keep ancient prayers intact while the underlying meaning is reinterpreted for modern times? Does it honor tradition to set ancient prayers aside and formulate new ones for this moment? Does it dignify the couple to adapt ancient prayers to their needs, and is that even a halachic possibility? More generally, what are the rules governing the creation of new texts and rituals, and how do they apply here?

These questions come into play specifically with regard to birkat erusin and the sheva brachot. The prohibition on altering brachot or inventing brachot is codified in the Mishneh Torah (Brachot 1:5):

וְנֹסַח כָּל הַבְּרָכוֹת עֶזְרָא וּבֵית דִּינוֹ תִּקְּנוּם. וְאֵין רָאוּי לְשַׁנּוֹתָם וְלֹא לְהוֹסִיף עַל אַחַת מֵהֶם וְלֹא לִגְרֹעַ מִמֶּנָּה. וְכָל הַמְשַׁנֶּה מִמַּטְבֵּעַ שֶׁטָּבְעוּ חֲכָמִים בַּבְּרָכוֹת אֵינוֹ אֶלָּא טוֹעֶה. וְכָל בְּרָכָה שֶׁאֵין בָּהּ הַזְכָּרַת הַשֵּׁם וּמַלְכוּת אֵינָהּ בְּרָכָה אֶלָּא אִם כֵּן הָיְתָה סְמוּכָה לַחֲבֵרְתָהּ.

The forms of all the blessings were established by Ezra and his Court. It is not proper to vary them, or add to or take aught away from any one of them. Whoever deviates from the form which the Sages have given to the Blessings, is in error. Any blessing in which the name of God and His Sovereignty are not mentioned is not regarded as a blessing, unless it follows immediately another blessing.

That belief has earlier precedent in the Talmud (Brachot 40b):

רַבִּי יוֹסֵי אוֹמֵר: כׇּל הַמְשַׁנֶּה מִמַּטְבֵּעַ שֶׁטָּבְעוּ חֲכָמִים בִּבְרָכוֹת לֹא יָצָא יְדֵי חוֹבָתוֹ.

Rabbi Yosei says: One who deviates from the formula coined by the Sages in blessings, did not fulfill his obligation.

Thus, the usual Orthodox opinion is that “we may not alter the prescribed text of a brachah or invent our own brachah; doing so may result in uttering God’s name in vain, a prohibition of the Ten Commandments.” (Source) As a result, many choose to maintain this textual integrity by either sticking to the original wording or creating new compositions, albeit ones that don’t also technically transgress the prohibition on new brachot.

At the same time, there is a value of giving proper dignity to all people. Does that value preempt the value of textual integrity? And if so, does that include inventing entirely new brachot rather than merely allowing for the adjustment of existing brachot to compensate for gender?

Probably the most familiar type of blessing follows the matbe’a katzar, or “short formula,” which begins “baruch atah…” followed by a few words of praise specific to the occasion. Longer brachot following the matbe’a aroch, or “long formula,” have two parts, an introductory part that begins “baruch atah…” called a petichah, and a concluding brachah, which is called a chatimah. A third type, called beracha ha’smuchah l’chavertah, or “a brachah that is next to its friend,” is a brachah in a sequence of brachot that each have an opening portion without the “baruch atah…” construction (except usually the first one in the series which has it), followed by a chatimah.

Various approaches to utilizing brachot in same-sex weddings include sticking to short blessings that can exist independently, selectively adapting the petichot of existing brachot while preserving the chatimot, adapting both petichot and chatimot, matching other Jewish texts to the standard chatimot to recontextualize them, creating brand new pairings of other Jewish texts and blessings from elsewhere in liturgy in ways that capture particular meanings, and creating new brachot that follow the standard formulas. Additionally, some may still feel uncomfortable with any of these strategies and choose to omit the “atah hashem” portion so as to keep the intention and the meaning of the blessing without transgressing the prohibition on saying a brachah levatalah, a blessing said in vain (and thereby the Third Commandment against taking God’s name in vain). A still more conservative approach is to replace the blessing entirely with a Jewish text that has the same theme but is not in the format of a brachah. As with much of Judaism, there is a difference of opinion.

Rabbi Tracee L. Rosen: Many colleagues will ask: If the inclusion of sheva berachot is appropriate for commitment ceremonies, is it appropriate to change the chatimot, concluding words of the last two berachot from “m’sameyach chatan v’chalah (im ha-chalah)” to “m’sameyach chatan v’chatan” or “m’sameyach chalah v’chalah”? I would argue that it would depend on the individual rabbi’s perspective on the permissibility of changing the chatimot of blessings. If one holds, for example, that it is permissible to recite “mageyn Avraham ufokeyd Sarah” in the amidah, then changing the language of the sheva berachot should present no problem.

On the other hand, a colleague who believes that berachot should be recited as dictated by the Talmud could legitimately recite these berachot in their original formulation, as the essence of these berachot are praising God as the one who rejoices in the establishment of new families in the abstract, not specifically referring to the specific couple standing under the chuppah. That is, the community views itself as being God’s shlichim, agents in creating joy and happiness for all chatanim and kallot, and I would argue, regardless of the specific configuration present at the moment.

Additional notes about liturgical language

Transgender, genderqueer, intersex, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming language

Rabbi Elliot Kukla: It is impossible to refer to an individual without using gender in Hebrew. To solve this problem one possible option is to mix up the gender of the pronoun and the gender of the verb as I have done through-out this template in order to indicate gender complexity. [For example, “Bruchim ha’baot.”] If these “mixed up” options are being used, they should be explained and contextualized by the officiant so it doesn’t seem like simply incorrect Hebrew.

Recognizing both male and female couples, Hebrew liturgical approaches are presented with both male and female conjugations. R. Kukla’s proposal could be extended to other proposals included here. (In general, the editors of this project expect some degree of familiarity with Hebrew.)

Feminine Divine language

Some of the contributors quoted here choose to use feminine names for God in blessings, as in the construction “Bruchah At Yah, Eloheinu/Elohateinu/Shechina ruach haolam,” discussed by R. Arthur Green in 1986 (and cited here), and further described by R. Arthur Waskow (see also Luke Devine). Those constructions have largely been changed to the conventional “Baruch Atah Adonai…” for uniformity throughout the included texts to make comparison easier. Decisions about use of that language are left to individuals who are moved by that practice, and their officiants.

Recognizing Gender Identity with Language

Rabbi Elliot Kukla: Weddings can be an opportunity to bring together relatives or friends from the past. This is a wonderful chance to pull these people into the present life of the partners however there may be confusion about how the partners want their gender to be understood. It is up to the officiant to clearly indicate how each member of the partnership should be celebrated: as a bride, as a groom or as something else. It is possible to indicate gender subtly within the liturgical flow of the service. This is a spiritually significant moment for these lovers and they deserve to be seen and recognized as fully as possible. …

[For example, it] is traditional to welcome the partners to the chuppah with a Hebrew blessing and this is a good opportunity to immediately signal how the partners want their genders to be understood. This can be done by saying something simple like: “We welcome Shoshana and Chaya with the blessing for two brides…”