The Wealthy Man and the Businesswoman
Jonathan was in love with Sarah. Head over heels. But there was a catch. Sarah ran a small business, but it was less of a money-making venture and more of a long-term experiment in wishful thinking.
Jonathan, on the other hand, was what people like to call “wealthy”—the kind of wealthy where the money does the talking, and it’s a very loud voice. So, naturally, Jonathan was worried. He may have been in love, but he was a practical man. What if, after they married, Sarah’s creditors took one look at his company and decided they’d hit the jackpot?
So, when Jonathan proposed, he slipped in a clause. A practical clause: “Darling, I love you, but before we tie the knot, we need to shut down your business and settle your debts. It’s just… well, responsible.”
Sarah wasn’t thrilled, but she agreed. After all, it wasn’t unreasonable—though she did offer a warning: “This isn’t going to happen overnight. I have suppliers, I have customers, I have… you know, a complicated mess to clean up. It’ll take time.”
Time passed. Not much happened. Jonathan, growing impatient, began to notice that Sarah wasn’t exactly moving at lightning speed. In fact, she seemed to be giving creditors the slip. She’d push them off one month, then the next, until Jonathan could hear the creditors sigh from miles away.
Finally, Jonathan decided it was time to take action. He went straight to Sarah’s creditors and gave them some highly useful legal advice on how to get Sarah to pay up faster.
When Sarah found out what Jonathan had done, she was, predictably, not pleased. “Whose side are you on?” she demanded, hands on hips, eyes narrowing like a detective who’s just caught a suspect with a trunk full of stolen goods. “If you’re working against me now, what are you going to do when we’re married? Are you going to ‘help’ me with everything?”
Jonathan raised his hands in the universal gesture of innocence. “Sarah, sweetheart, do you really think I’m trying to hurt you? Of course not. I’m only trying to speed things up so we can get married as soon as possible. You know I’m just looking out for you!”
The Almond Branch and the Promise of Redemption
We often mistake hardship for punishment. We assume trials mean rejection, that suffering signals divine disfavor. But God’s ways run deeper than our first impressions. Every challenge, every setback, is not an end but a means—a step toward something greater.
When Jeremiah beheld a vision of an almond branch, he didn’t understand its meaning. God explained: just as the almond is the first tree to blossom in spring, so too would the coming events—exile, upheaval, suffering—unfold swiftly. The Hebrew word for almond, shakeid, shares its root with the verb to hasten. The message was clear: judgment would come quickly.
Jeremiah was distressed. How could God do this to His beloved people?God answered with a promise: “I hasten My word to accomplish it” (Jer. 1:12). This was not punishment for its own sake. This was preparation. Just as the wealthy groom insisted on clearing old debts before the wedding, so too was God clearing the path for redemption. The trials of exile were not abandonment, but growth and purification—so that when the time came, Israel would be ready to return home.
(Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 101-102)
