"I work hard, help at home, but my wife Is never satisfied. Why Is this happening?"

A year and a half ago, I met a dear, gentle Jewish man, and this is what he told me:

“I’ve been married for ten years. Honestly, I think I do everything I can for the household. I work hard, take the kids to cheder, help at home every day, genuinely care for my wife… but my wife, sadly, is never satisfied. Sure, she thanks me for working, helping, caring, but she’s not happy with our relationship. She always claims I don’t truly understand her. That our emotional connection isn’t right. And she doesn’t know how to explain exactly what’s bothering her.”

I asked him: When does she say this? When is she dissatisfied with you? When does she complain?

He smiled awkwardly and said: “Honestly? It might sound a bit funny to you… it’s always after we go out together, for a walk, to a restaurant, or just to sit and talk. Somehow, it always ends in tension, frustration… and in the end, she always says to me: ‘You don’t understand me. You’re not with me.’ And I don’t get it: my phone is off, I’m fully with you… so what’s wrong?”

“And she immediately responds: ‘I don’t know… you’re not listening. You’re not with me.’ And me… sometimes I get annoyed too. ‘What do you mean I’m not with you? What more do you want me to do?! You’re just looking for problems!’ And that’s how it always ends, in a fight. She gets hurt, goes silent, stops talking. And then when we get home, I ask her: ‘What, am I not okay?’ and another argument starts.”

“So for a while now, we haven’t gone out at all. I told her: if every time we go out, it ends in a fight, why bother going for walks, talking, or spending time together?”

He paused. Fell silent. Then continued in a quiet voice:

“My wife didn’t answer me, but I understand. Something here isn’t right, something’s wrong…”

I had a long conversation with him.

I asked him: “When your wife shares with you, tells you what she’s going through, how do you respond? Do you stay silent? Answer? Explain?”

He thought for a few moments. Then said: “I try to explain to her what she’s going through. I try to solve her problem. For example, if she tells me that at work, her manager spoke to her rudely, I immediately say: ‘Forget it, that’s nonsense. She was just upset, don’t take it personally.’”

“But she responds: ‘It hurt me. The way she spoke to me, it pained me!’ And I say: ‘So let it go. Life’s short. Why dwell on it at all?’ And then she gets upset, goes silent, and says to me: ‘You don’t understand me. Just listen to me for a second!’ And I, instead of staying quiet… I snap back: ‘What do you mean I don’t understand you?!’”

And there, right there, I understood the root of it.

I said to him: “You’re not listening. You’re trying to solve her problem. You’re not with her in her pain, you’re explaining to her why she’s wrong to feel that pain. But she doesn’t need solutions. She needs you. She needs your presence. Your heart. An ear that listens. Just to be with her. Without trying to fix her, without trying to help. Just to be with her in her pain.

To say to her: ‘Wow… that’s really tough. That’s really humiliating. That hurts. It’s not easy.’

That’s all she needs.”

“When you try to explain, justify, solve, you’re not with her. You don’t see her. She feels alone. And you become her therapist, her advisor, instead of her husband.”

And it’s not just him.

I see it again and again between couples. Between parents and children. Between friends.

The problem isn’t a lack of love. The problem is a lack of listening.

People don’t need solutions.

They need someone to listen to them. Someone who will truly be with them. Who will understand them. Who will hold their pain.

Not to explain. Not to analyze. Not to offer advice. Just to be.

And that Jewish man, he worked on himself.

He noticed that every time his wife spoke to him, his mind immediately went into “solve” mode.

But since then, he stays silent. Listens. Nods.

Is with her.

And his life has changed completely.

Sometimes a man hears his wife crying and feels he has to solve it.

Because if he doesn’t, he feels helpless.

And he’s afraid of the emotion.

Afraid of the silence.

Afraid of the heart.

But that’s exactly where, in that softness, redemption lies.

I’ve met many people in my life. All kinds. From all walks of life.

Some came to me for talks. Others for Shabbos meals.

But all of them, every single one, were searching for one thing.

And the most important thing in the world to most people…

It’s not money.

Not food.

Not advice.

And not solutions.

What they really want—

Is for someone to truly listen to them.

To see them.

To understand their heart, without judgment.

For there to be one person in this world, just one, who can hold their pain.

It’s not easy.

If only we could truly manage to do it.

The world would look different.

A few years ago, a Jewish man came to me.

His son had started to spiral. He left yeshiva. Cut his peyos. Closed his heart.

A week before the Passover Seder, he sat across from me, heartbroken.

He said to me:

“Everyone is fulfilling the mitzvah of ‘And you shall tell your son.’ And me?

My son doesn’t want to hear anything. Not Torah. Not prayer. Nothing.

He shuts me out. He’s closed off. And me, where am I on the Seder night?!”

And I spoke with him.

And I realized, he was there, but not really.

He gave his son clothes. Gifts. Money.

But not his heart.

Not his listening.

Not the “What’s going on with you, my son?”

Not the “Tell me what’s hard for you. I’m with you. I’m here.”

I said to him:

“Your mitzvah this year is not ‘And you shall tell your son.’

But 'And you shall listen to your son.'

Sit with him. Don’t preach. Don’t fix.

Just listen to him. Even if he says things that scare you, stay with him.

Love him. Hug him.

Because if you don’t listen to him, he’ll never listen to you.”

And after Passover, he called me crying.

“It was the most moving Seder night I’ve ever had.

I sat with my son. For the first time in my life, I truly listened to him.

And he said to me: Abba, I can’t study. It’s hard for me.

What should I do, Abba, when I can’t open a Gemara?”

“And I hugged him. And I cried.

And I said to him: My dear son, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t understand you for so many years.

I love you. Even if you don’t study.”

And since then, they study Daf Yomi together every day.

Not because he forced him.

But because he listened to him.

So, beloved brothers,

All of us, you, me, the world, want one thing:

For someone to listen to us. Truly.

Without fixes. Without solutions. Without advice.

Just be there.

Quiet your mind.

Keep your heart open.

And say:

I’m with you.

I’m here.

I’m not going anywhere.

That’s redemption.

To listen to your spouse. To your friends. To people.

It doesn’t require a degree.

You don’t need a technique.

You don’t need to know how to solve or advise.

Just be there.

Just say quietly:

“I don’t understand everything, but I’m with you.”

My heart is with you.

I’m here. I’m not running away. I’m not fixing. Just staying. With you.

And that…

That’s all we truly need.

And it’s also

The greatest thing we can give.

Wishing you a kosher and joyful Pesach. May we all merit to be there for one another. To listen. To hold. To truly see. And may our hearts have room not only for matzah and maror… but also for the person sitting across from us.