The ketubah is a contract, and you get to choose what it says

Someone has sent you a link to a shop selling beautiful papercut artwork for $800, and you're not sure whether you're buying a decoration, a legal document, or a religious obligation. It's mostly the second one, and the text matters more than the art.

What is a ketubah?

A ketubah (keh-TOO-bah) is the Jewish marriage contract, signed before the ceremony and often read aloud during it. Traditionally it set out a husband's obligations to his wife: food, clothing, and support, plus a settlement if the marriage ended. That made it, in its time, a document that protected the woman in a marriage. Today most couples sign a version that describes mutual promises instead.

What does it say?

That depends entirely on which text you choose, and this is the decision people skip past on their way to picking artwork.

Traditional (Orthodox). Aramaic, unchanged for centuries, framed as the husband's obligations. Required for an Orthodox wedding, and its legal language is not a description of a modern marriage.

Conservative. The traditional Aramaic plus the Lieberman clause, which commits both partners to a rabbinical court if the marriage ends — an attempt to prevent a spouse being trapped in a religious marriage after a civil divorce.

Egalitarian. Both partners make the same promises to each other. Usually Hebrew and English side by side. This is what most Reform, Reconstructionist, and unaffiliated couples sign.

Interfaith. Written for a couple where one partner isn't Jewish. Same shape, language adjusted so both people can honestly sign it — no assumption that both are entering a Jewish covenant, though many include a commitment to a Jewish home if that's what the couple intends.

Secular or humanistic. No God language. Promises between two people, often with a line about the Jewish community or Jewish values rather than divine witness.

Read the English before you fall in love with the design. Most sellers list the full text of each option, and couples are sometimes surprised by what they'd have been signing.

Who signs it?

Traditionally two witnesses rather than the couple — and in Orthodox practice those witnesses must be Jewish adults who are not related to either partner or to each other. Most non-Orthodox couples now sign it themselves along with two witnesses, and some add parents.

The signing usually happens before the ceremony, in a side room, with immediate family and the wedding party. It's small, informal, and frequently the best twenty minutes of the day: everyone is in one room, nobody is performing yet, and there's often a drink involved. Plan for it rather than squeezing it between photos.

If a witness matters to you and their eligibility is in question, ask your officiant weeks ahead, not at the signing table.

What does a ketubah cost?

A printed text on paper runs $50 to $150. A quality lithograph or giclée print of an artist's design typically runs $200 to $500. Hand-painted or papercut originals commissioned from an artist run $700 to $3,000 and up. Many officiants will supply a plain printed text at no charge if you'd rather spend the money elsewhere.

Order it eight to twelve weeks out. Personalized ketubahs are printed with your names, date, and city, and rush fees on a four-week turnaround are real. This is the single most common last-minute scramble in Jewish wedding planning.

Do we need one for an interfaith wedding?

No, and many interfaith couples have one anyway. It's not a legal requirement in any US state, since your marriage license is the legal document, and it isn't required for a wedding to be meaningful. It is, though, a piece of the tradition that adapts unusually gracefully, because an interfaith text can be written so both people mean every word.

If one partner isn't Jewish, choose an interfaith or egalitarian text rather than a traditional one. Asking someone to sign a document written in Aramaic that assumes things about them isn't a great way to start.

What happens to it after?

People hang it. That's genuinely most of the answer, and it's why the artwork gets so much attention. It ends up over a bed or in a hallway and gets looked at for decades, which is a real argument for spending on something you like.

Check the size against a wall you actually have before ordering. A 24-by-30-inch papercut is bigger than it looks on a website.

The thing worth getting right

Pick the text first, then the art. Couples who do it the other way around find the design they love and then discover it's only sold with a traditional Aramaic text, or that the interfaith version isn't offered in that style. Most sellers let you pair any text with any design, but not all of them do, and finding out after you've decided is a small avoidable heartbreak.