Imagine sitting in the crowd of a wedding as two women exchange vows, or witnessing a Jewish partner pledge their commitment to their Muslim beloved. Envision next a ceremony unbound by ritual in which two secular Jews join in matrimony through legal contract and mutual affection. These scenarios are simple to imagine in St. Louis or New York. In Israel they remain an exercise for the imagination.
In Israel today, the simple act of saying “I do” is anything but simple. While Americans may struggle to imagine it, thousands of Israeli citizens cannot legally marry within their own country. Not because they don’t love each other enough, but because the Orthodox rabbinate holds exclusive control over Jewish marriages in Israel, creating deep divides in a nation already struggling with fragmentation.
As a result, interfaith marriages, same-sex unions and marriages conducted outside religious law are not recognized by the state. Couples who fall outside these rigid parameters must often marry abroad or remain legally unmarried.
The numbers tell a stark story. Social norms cast a dark shadow over interfaith couples, fewer than 1% of Israelis marry outside their religious group, according to Pew Research. According to a 2024 survey from Hiddush, an organization promoting religious freedom in Israel, 67% of the Israeli public supports recognizing all types of marriages. Meanwhile, over 3,000 Israelis married through Utah’s “Zoom weddings” in 2024 alone to bypass the rabbinate. This isn’t merely a matter of preference; it represents a profound fracture in how Israelis envision their nation’s character and future. Israelis must go outside of Israel in order to have a marriage recognized by the Israeli government.
For Eilam and Vicky Sher, this reality hit home when they decided they didn’t want to marry through the Chief Rabbinate despite being eligible. COVID 19 travel restrictions made it challenging to book flights and organize a wedding in Cyprus. They discovered another option.
“I learned about the possibility of getting married remotely in Utah through Facebook groups,” Eilam explained to the Times of Israel. In January 2021, they held their wedding over Zoom with an Utah official, their parents and friends as witnesses. Though they didn’t have to leave the country and paid just a few hundred dollars to receive their marriage license, Eilam reflected, “it is absurd that Israel does not recognize freedom of marriage.”
Yet within this complex web of restrictions and divisions, hope emerges from unlikely places. Israelis demonstrate remarkable adaptability. From destination weddings to private ceremonies without state recognition, citizens create meaningful alternatives to honor their values. This creativity represents not just resistance, but reimagination and an assertion that love and partnership don’t need to be confined by outdated structures.
Public opinion shows significant evolution. As mentioned, almost 70% of Jewish Israelis now support some form of civil marriage option– crossing traditional political boundaries. This suggests that even seemingly immovable positions can shift over time and lays the groundwork for real political momentum.
Grassroots organizations like New Family and Chuppot are creating unprecedented coalitions between religious moderates, secular activists and minority groups. Rabbi Chuck Davidson, who frequently performs “illegal” weddings, shared with the Times of Israel that he could theoretically end up in prison for two years. He said that change will come “through grassroots efforts and mass civil disobedience” rather than through the Knesset or Supreme Court. These alternative pathways demonstrate that marriage reform can unite rather than divide.
The path forward requires more than positive hope, it demands action. The first step is to support legislative reform that creates civil marriage options while preserving traditional marriage options for those who choose it. It’s not a zero-sum game and it’s not a call to erode tradition. Multiple systems can coexist as they do in many democracies worldwide and the antiquated system that exists goes back to the “status quo” agreement. Engage across community lines. Personal connections change perspectives more effectively than abstract arguments. Share your own marriage story. Whether you married abroad, struggled with the rabbinate or found creative loopholes, these narratives humanize statistics.
Marriage in Israel can transform from a symbol of division into a catalyst for a more inclusive society. Championing reforms that respect religious traditions and individual rights can lead to a renewed covenant not just between partners, but between diverse communities sharing one small, precious land. In doing this we will not only forge new families, but a more inclusive vision of Israel society.
The wedding glass shatters to remind us of brokenness even in moments of joy. Perhaps in addressing the broken marriage system, we may find unexpected wholeness for Israeli society.
Rachel Becker, 20, from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., is a rising junior at Washington University. She is studying Jewish, Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies and Marketing.
