אני לדודי ודודי לי (Ani le-Dodi ve-Dodi li — “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”) Few biblical lines are quoted more often under a chuppah or engraved inside a wedding band. This guide is for couples who keep seeing the phrase on rings, ketubot, and invitations and want to know—deeply—what it means, where it comes from, and how to live it after the music ends.

Where it comes from (and why it matters)

The line appears in Song of Songs 6:3, with a closely related twin in 2:16. Song of Songs—traditionally attributed to King Solomon—is a poetic dialogue between lovers. The Sages called it “holy of holies,” because beneath the romance they heard an allegory of the covenantal love between God and Israel. That double register—romance and covenant—is exactly why the verse has become the signature of Jewish marriage: it blesses a human bond while echoing a sacred one.

Hebrew helps here.

Ani — “I” 

le-Dodi — “to/for my beloved” (possessive and directional) 

ve-Dodi — “and my beloved”

li — “is mine”

The final words in 6:3 add a pastoral image: “הָרֹעֶה בַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּים / ha-ro‘eh ba-shoshanim”—“who shepherds among the lilies.” It’s a picture of tender guidance, not domination; a fitting metaphor for the style of care that sustains a home.

Two verses, two maturities of love

Why does the Bible give the line twice? Many teachers note a subtle shift:

• Song 2:16: “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” The “I” claims—then offers. Early love often begins with how the other makes me feel.
• Song 6:3: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Now the “I” offers—then receives. Mature love begins with commitment, and trust brings the reciprocity that follows.

For newlyweds, the switch is a roadmap: start your days with giving and you’ll receive more than you can plan.

Classical interpretations you’ll actually use

• Rashi reads the lovers as God and Israel; the reciprocity is covenantal, not contractual. In marriage terms: loyalty before perfect understanding.
• Medieval peshat (plain-sense) commentators also value the human romance. They remind us that desire and delight are not a footnote to holiness; they are part of it when held within a sacred promise.
• Kabbalistic and Hasidic readings speak of mutual “turning” (ratzo v’shov)—initiative and response—rhythms every couple learns: sometimes you pursue; sometimes you receive and reflect.

The month of Elul and why this line is on so many invitations

The initial letters of the four Hebrew words—א-ל-ו-ל—spell Elul, the month of soul-work before the High Holy Days. Elul emphasizes approach from below: I turn first (Ani le-Dodi), trusting that love will meet me. Many couples choose the verse precisely because it encodes a practice: lead with generosity, and the bond deepens.

Why it belongs in a Jewish wedding

A Jewish wedding is not just a ceremony; it’s a legal and spiritual covenant. Ani le-Dodi summarizes three pillars of that covenant:

1. Mutuality: not ownership but belonging, freely chosen and continually renewed.
2. Exclusivity with expansiveness: our “circle of two” becomes a source of blessing outward—to family, guests, community.
3. Gentle guidance: the “shepherd among lilies” invites a tone—kind speech, patient timing, soft strength—as the default setting of the home.

The “kosher ring,” engraving, and what to ask your rabbi

Under the chuppah, the ring used for kiddushin is customarily a plain, unplated band owned by the groom, given in the sight of witnesses, with a clear declaration. Many communities avoid gemstones so the value is unmistakable. What about engraving “Ani le-Dodi”?

• Outside engraving before the ceremony may be discouraged in some communities out of concern for valuation or attention; others permit simple inscriptions.
• Inside engraving is commonly done after the ceremony, so the kiddushin ring remains unquestionably simple at the moment of betrothal.
• Customs vary; ask your officiating rabbi. If one ring will be used for both ceremony and daily wear, a practical path is: plain for the chuppah; engraved afterward.

How couples can live the verse (not just wear it)

1) Daily micro-pledges. Choose one consistent act that says “I am for you”: make the first coffee, send the midday check-in, leave the desk when your partner walks in. Small, steady signals bank trust.

2) Conflict fluency. Mutuality doesn’t mean sameness. In heated moments, try a two-step:

• Ani le-Dodi: name what you can offer (“I can take the morning drop-off if evenings are hard for you”).
• ve-Dodi li: ask what you need (“Could you handle Tuesday dinners?”). Clear offers invite clear reciprocation.

3) Sacred calendar. Revisit the verse at anniversaries, Elul, or monthly on your Hebrew wedding date. Read the two versions (2:16 and 6:3) aloud and ask: Where did we give first this month? Where did we receive?

4) Home rituals. Place the verse by the front door or dining table. Let guests know your home runs on generosity-before-transaction.

What the words feel like on a ring (design notes for the truly picky)

• Language: Hebrew carries heritage; English offers accessibility. Many couples choose Hebrew outside, English inside, or vice versa.
• Length: Full 6:3 includes “ha-ro‘eh ba-shoshanim.” If space is tight, the four core words are classic and recognizable.
• Script: Block letters (Ktav Ashuri) are crisp; Rashi script nods to tradition; cursive feels intimate. Try a sample on paper to check legibility at ring width.
• Finish & width: For daily wear, a comfort-fit interior and medium width (4–6 mm) balance readability with comfort.
• Aftercare: Store wording details in your order file; resizing can affect an inscription. Photograph the engraving for your records.

Weddings beyond the ring: other places the verse shines

• Ketubah artwork and marginalia
• Chuppah canopy embroidery
• Invitation headline or wax-seal motif
• Bedside or entryway plaque (seeing it changes speech)
• Anniversary gifts: a pendant or bracelet echoing the ring’s text

A note on translation (and why the Hebrew is irreplaceable)

English must choose: beloved or lover; mine can mean possession or belonging. Hebrew carries the relational nuance without possession: it’s about orientation and loyalty. When you say Ani le-Dodi, you’re not owning—you’re pledging. That’s the posture the verse sanctifies.

For interfaith and diverse Jewish journeys

Song of Songs speaks to human love that aspires to faithful devotion. Whether your home is traditionally observant, culturally Jewish, or interfaith, the verse offers a shared ethic: I commit myself to your good; I trust you commit yourself to mine. Couples often find it becomes language for repair, not only romance.

Frequently asked (because you will)

Is it a prayer?
Strictly, it’s a biblical verse, not a set liturgical prayer—but it is used devotionally, and many treat it as a prayer of intent.

Can we swap the order (“My beloved is mine…”)?
Yes, some choose 2:16 for design, cadence, or personal resonance. The “6:3 order” is more common at weddings, for the “give-first” emphasis.

What if we’re not fluent in Hebrew?
Wear the Hebrew proudly and keep an English card in your wallet or notes app. When someone asks, you’ll have the teaching moment ready.

Bringing it all together

“Ani le-Dodi” is not a slogan; it’s a practice. It begins where love is most concrete: in calendars, kitchens, inboxes, budgets, and tone of voice. The verse teaches that belonging grows from the gift of self—and that reciprocity, far from vanishing when not demanded, thrives when invited.

As you step under the chuppah, consider choosing the verse not only for your ring but for your rhythm:

• Start with Ani—what I can offer.
• Trust the ve-Dodi li—the answering love that follows.
• Shepherd each other gently, among lilies and laundry alike.

May your home be a place where this ancient line is not just beautiful to read, but unmistakable to live.