​On September 20th, I officiated Shiran and Steve’s wedding ceremony at D’Vine Grace Vineyard in McKinney, Texas. Here are the remarks I shared with them and their guests:

Some love stories begin in ways you expect — mutual friends, work colleagues, college sweethearts. Some, like Shiran and Steve’s, begin in ways that would make a romantic comedy producer say, “Hmm… needs more obstacles.”

They met on a dating app. Shiran was in New York visiting a friend. It was pouring rain — one of those biblical, “maybe we should just build an ark” downpours. She admits she almost didn’t go. “Who wants to get soaking wet while going on a date?” she thought. But something — fate, instinct, divine weather-related intervention — got her out the door. She’s glad it did.

Steve remembers it vividly: “I knew Shiran would be the one as soon as I saw her walking towards me with a big smile while I waited by the side door of a random bar. Actually, I found the bar from an episode of Master of None on Netflix. I was a little too excited so I spent most of the time yapping while she listened. I wasn’t so sure if I was able to get a second date — but here we are 8 years later getting married in Texas.”

One date turned into weeks together. Weeks turned into a life-changing decision: Shiran found a job that allowed her to stay in the U.S., packed her bags, left her home, and moved across the globe for the person she had fallen in love with. Eight years, four apartments, one cat, and one dog later, she says, “I have found my person. Steve makes my brain go quiet in a very loud world.”

Now, that sentence alone is enough to make a rabbi put down the microphone and say, “Amen, sermon over.” Because isn’t that what we’re all looking for? Someone who doesn’t just not add to the noise but quiets it? Someone who is a refuge, a safe harbor in the middle of all life’s storms, both the meteorological and the metaphorical ones?

Steve’s reasons for marrying Shiran are refreshingly straightforward and wonderfully human: “I’d like to get married because it’s about time — and I know I’ve been dragging it out, so I do apologize. But in all seriousness, Shiran is my best friend and my ride or die. Marriage means the deepest kind of loyalty and love. It’s hard to imagine my life without her, and anyone who puts up with me and my craziness is my forever person.” Oh, and of course, he adds: “Plus we want to be married before having little ones running around, so this is the next chapter of our lives.”

And here’s something I love about both of them: They didn’t rush into this step out of pressure or expectation. They’ve been together for eight years. They’ve built, as Shiran says, “a strong foundation of love and respect.” They’ve created a home together, moved across states together, even adjusted to Texas weather together — which, after New York rain, probably felt like nature’s way of saying, “Surprise, here’s 108 degrees.”

What can we learn from them? That the next chapter in a relationship isn’t about a calendar date, it’s about readiness. It’s about knowing you’ve already tested your partnership through moves, careers, pets, family expectations, and at least one epic rainstorm — and deciding that, yes, this is the person you want to navigate all future forecasts with.

So Shiran and Steve, as you step into this new chapter, may you always be each other’s quiet in a loud world, and may that quiet be filled with laughter, love, and just enough noise to remind you that life, like marriage, is at its best when it’s a little unpredictable. And when those inevitable storms come, may you remember the very first one you weathered together, and how stepping out into the rain changed everything.

​On August 2nd, I officiated Sihua and Sasan’s wedding ceremony at The Shangri La Hotel in Xiamen, China. Here are the remarks I shared with them and their guests:

Today is a celebration not only of love — but of journey, return, and becoming. There are many twists and turns in their story, but as the phrase from Hindu mythology about the idea of infinite regress puts it, the origin of the story is turtles all the way down.

What do I mean by that? Sasan says: “I had been in China for around 9 months. My friend, Ankur Patel, was visiting me. One day Ankur said, ‘Look, I bought these turtles for one dollar each!’ At first, I thought to myself, wow, so cheap, but shortly after it hit me that we needed to take care of these two little things. 

I told Ankur we needed to buy them a fish tank, so we went to the huge bazaar in the middle of Beijing. This place sold anything anyone needed. I was in the curtain section and Ankur was with the fish tanks. He called me and asked me to come over to help him translate something, and there she was, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, Sihua! 

My heart skipped a beat or two, but I mustered up the courage to talk to her with the little broken Chinese that I knew. I managed to ask her for her number, and for the following year we texted back and forth in Mandarin. One of the reasons I’m able to read and write Mandarin today is because I looked forward to reading and replying to her messages.”

Sihua says, “The first time I saw him, I was immediately attracted by his gentlemanly demeanor. He was gentle, tall, and handsome. That night, he sent me a message asking, ‘How are your fish?’ This simple question touched me deeply. I could sense that he was a caring and kind person, and from that moment on, he had a special place in my heart.”

From that moment, they were inseparable, and as they say in Western fairy tales, they lived happily ever after. (Pause.) 

No, that’s not what actually happened. They did date for a short while, but Sasan moved to Hong Kong, and as is the case with many fresh relationships, long distance didn’t really work. They broke up, but they still maintained their friendship. Years passed, COVID came along, and Sasan was stuck in Los Angeles for a year, until China finally opened back up at the end of 2020. 

He picks up the story from there: “I took the first available flight back to Xiamen. Little did I know Sihua’s flight back to China after finishing her master’s program would be canceled. She would have to fly to Xiamen to quarantine just a few weeks after I got back. She got in touch; I lived in Xiamen, and she needed a quarantine hotel. As soon as she was finished, we met up.

It was then that I confessed my love for her. I told her that for the past 12 years I had loved her so much, and I wanted to be with her. To my surprise she told me she felt the same way.” From that moment, they were inseparable, and, yes, as they say in Western fairy tales, they lived happily ever after. This time, for real.

When we look at Sihua and Sasan, we don’t just see a couple who fell in love; we see what happens when love endures. Years passed. Countries changed. Careers shifted. A once in a century global pandemic came and went. But something inside Sihua and Sasan stayed steady. After more than a decade, after years apart, when the moment was right, they didn’t hesitate. They both said: I still love you. I always have.

Sihua and Sasan chose each other across time, distance, cultures, languages, and faiths. That kind of love isn’t just romantic; it’s rare. It’s rooted in memory, resilience, and an open heart. Today, therefore, we don’t just witness a wedding; we celebrate a union that reminds us how strong true love can be. 

Sihua and Sasan, thank you for teaching us that real love doesn’t always follow a straight line. Thank you for showing us what it means to return to what matters, to build something sacred, and to love wholeheartedly.