The Request The Rav Could Not Fulfill

Rav David Jungreis, zt”l, Av Beit Din of Yerushalayim, was an exalted and distinguished figure — a towering scholar in Torah whose greatness was matched only by remarkable humility. Rav Jungreis lived with great simplicity and deliberately concealed personal stature, to the point that vast knowledge and righteousness were recognized only by those with discerning eyes.

One aspect of Rav Jungreis’ conduct stood out in particular. Whenever speaking with the Rebbetzin, Rav Jungreis addressed the her with titles of honor and deep respect, as one might speak to a revered sage of the generation.

At one point, Rav Jungreis was compelled to travel to Vienna together with the Rebbetzin in order to seek medical treatment. Before departing, Rav Jungreis went to receive a farewell blessing from the father-in-law. During their parting conversation, the father-in-law made two requests.

“My dear son,” the father-in-law said, “since you are traveling to Vienna, where many wealthy supporters of our kollel reside, please do not hide your true greatness. Allow them to see your Torah knowledge and stature. In this way they will recognize that their support truly produces Torah scholars, and they will feel gratitude and pride in their partnership with Torah.”

The father-in-law then added a second request.

“Since you are traveling to a place where people are unfamiliar with your ways, it would be better, during this period, if you would refrain from addressing your wife with such exalted titles. Others may find this conduct unusual and may misunderstand you.”

Rav Jungreis answered respectfully, “Your first request I will fulfill to your satisfaction. But the second request I cannot fulfill. It is not merely the honor of my wife that I uphold — it is the honor of the holy Shechinah that rests with her. Therefore, I cannot forgo it.”

These words reveal a profound and transformative perspective on marriage. The Shechinah rests within the bond between husband and wife, and one who honors a spouse honors the Divine Presence itself. Conversely, causing one’s wife distress is, in a sense, a diminishment of that sacred Presence.

In our era, when there is no Beit HaMikdash, the Jewish home becomes a sanctuary. As the Meshech Chochmah explains on the verse “They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them,” when a husband and wife are worthy, the Shechinah dwells between them (Sotah 17a). The home itself becomes a living Mishkan.

Often people search for segulot to draw holiness and blessing into life, yet that opportunity exists constantly within one’s own home — through proper conduct toward a spouse. When disagreements arise, the question is not, “Am I right?” or “Do I deserve this?” Rather, the true question becomes: does this moment invite the Shechinah to remain, or cause it to depart? Harmony reveals the Divine Presence; tension drives it away.

At times, however, a husband’s inability to understand a wife’s inner struggle becomes an obstacle. With patience and empathy, what argument cannot accomplish may be achieved gently. The following story illustrates this principle.

A couple had recently become observant, progressing gradually, each at a different pace. The wife struggled particularly with the mitzvah of covering her hair. At first, this did not trouble the husband, but once the children began attending a charedi school, the husband urged adoption of a head covering. The wife refused.

“You must understand me,” the wife pleaded. “I am a woman. This is not easy. I cannot change overnight. When you began keeping Shabbat, I joined you. I koshered the kitchen and accepted the mitzvot of the home with joy. But covering my hair feels different. I want to grow — but this is very hard for me.”

The husband struggled to understand. “What is so difficult?” the husband asked. “Keeping Shabbat is much harder. It is only a head covering.”

Unable to persuade the wife, the husband turned to a rabbi, who advised presenting the question to Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, zt”l.

Rav Shlomo Zalman received the husband warmly and listened carefully. After hearing the situation, the Rav said gently, “Do you know how difficult it is for a woman to cover her hair? You are a man — you cannot fully understand. For a woman, her hair is deeply tied to identity. Imagine if someone demanded that you scar your face with a knife. Would you agree?”

“But the Torah requires it,” the husband insisted.

“That is true,” Rav Shlomo Zalman replied. “Yet for someone who did not grow up with this practice, it is an immense challenge. There is nothing harder for a woman than covering her hair.”

The husband continued pressing for instruction, hoping to receive guidance on how to insist. Rav Shlomo Zalman repeated the same message again and again, emphasizing understanding rather than pressure.

Eventually the husband realized that the Rav would not give directives to force the matter. The husband returned home thoughtful and quiet.

When the wife asked what the Rav had said, the husband replied, “The Rav said that I will never fully understand you — and that for a woman, nothing is harder than covering her hair.”

The wife fell silent, absorbing the words.

“So there is someone who understands me,” the wife said softly. “Is this a great Rav?”

“Yes,” the husband answered. “One of the greatest.”

The next morning, when the husband returned from prayer, the wife was waiting in the kitchen wearing an embroidered mitpachat covering her head.

“Does it suit me?” the wife asked with a smile. “The Rav you visited truly is great.”

From this we learn a powerful lesson. In marriage — as in education and in life — arguments and pressure do not always achieve the desired result, even when pursuing something spiritually important. Often it is empathy, patience, and genuine understanding that open the heart and allow growth to take root.

When a person feels understood, that person feels cared for. And when a person feels cared for, acceptance becomes possible.

Let us expand our capacity for understanding and kindness toward our spouses. When love and sensitivity guide the home, the p finds a place to dwell — and from that presence, blessing naturally follows.

Rav Reuven Golan, shlit”a, relates this account in the sefer Be’erah Shel Torah.

Rabbi Leeor Dahan, a graduate of Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim/RSA, is a noted scholar and teacher, well-versed in halachah. He currently leads Kehilat Avodat Hashem in Hillcrest, Queens, inspiring his congregation to delve into Torah study and embrace its eternal teachings.