Pixabay Image
Weddings are emotional.
For those attending them.
Sure, the bride and groom are experiencing one of life’s most influential moments - getting married.
But pound for pound the heavy lifting is happening in the hearts and minds of those in the audience. That’s where the ergs of emotional energy are dancing off the scale.
Where people are hopping on the Wayback Machine and remembering their own weddings. Their first and only. The one destined to last forever.
Or perhaps the second, less planned, less celebrated one that’s still going strong. Still in love.
Or the last one. Fingers crossed.
Ten people or a hundred and ten people, it doesn’t matter. They’ll all invested in the process to one degree or another.
They’ve traveled in planes, trains, and automobiles to a place picked for its scenic location. Its spiritual import. Or its proximity to the airport and the evening flight to a honeymoon spot in the Seychelles.
As the music fills the air with Mendelssohn’s march, and the priest gives the all-rise gesture with his hands, those one hundred and ten hearts begin to flutter.
Some more quickly, as petals are tossed from the small hands of a flower girl to the more sedate thumping of a seasoned viewer.
Casually impressed with her fortieth wedding; eyes on neither the bridge nor groom but the beautiful artwork on the ceiling or the one statue in its niche, covered in some cloth that reminds her of an Arabian princess - not something usually seen in a Unitarian church.
And then the words.
But what do all those words really mean? Why not a simple hello, please give me your name and if there are no objections - I now pronounce you husband and wife.
Simple. Not as elegant as the unedited version for sure, but to the point. Elegant in its own utilitarian way, leaving no doubt that the process is in reality a contract.
You’re with me, I’m with you, we promise such and such and so and so, and yeah, let’s do it.
Instead, we invoke all manner of religious meanings into this ritual.
We meld music and scripture, personal essays, and lines of poetry crafted for the moment. And mix it all together with serious admonitions and joyous hopes, all interspersed with endless unspoken consequences passed down through the ages that - hey, this is important.
Don’t fuck it up. Don’t ever take it lightly.
You’re here in a church because God is watching and if he thinks you’re playing him for a fool, well, you don’t want to go there.
Just respect the moment. Respect your partner and most importantly, the investment of the families involved because this ain’t no cheap affair and you best be committed
And with all of that subtext, let the ceremony begin.
But it is a heartening affair when all is said and done. Usually for all involved, but for some, well for some it’s a moment of remembrance and the images coming to mind are not all that joyous.
And that’s the thing that cannot be avoided, not ever. Because the viewers are composed of humans, not wooden pews and unused hymn books.
Weddings are somber affairs. Not to be confused with the solemn moments of a funeral, which draws its strength and significance from the very lives of those now resting in coffins before them.
Somber in that there is a level of commitment inherent in a marriage that does not exist with any other partnership.
In business, money and time are provided in exchange for profit and occupational certainty. Something to wake up to every morning. A place to go that’s known, paid for and yours to control.
But in a marriage, at least in a modern marriage, there is nothing owned and paid for. There is only the certainty of the vows and the individual commitment offered by the two standing before the altar.
To have and to hold this day forward until death do us part.
A great deal more than a pinkie promise or a manly handshake in the pub.
This is real life. The kind that takes place in the bedroom, in the kitchen, and the nursery where the product of that union will be visible for all to see.
A child. A new person brought into the world for a reason, hopefully, a good one, because there are no do-overs. No returning of goods for an exchange.
There is only the commitment; the promise that we’ll remain by each other’s side come what may.
A promise, that for good reasons or bad, is being broken at least 50% of the time.
Slightly better than a coin toss. The odds were much better if it was taking place in 1823 and not 2023 but hey, that option is no longer available.
That “model” was discontinued long ago.
I just returned from a wedding taking place in the quaint and very old town of Concord, Mass, in a church (a Unitarian one with BLM and Rainbow banners hung out front) that dates back to the time of the revolution.
Old wooden pews that may have once had Thomas Paine’s or Paul Revere’s behind neatly situated on them.
A church designed for town meetings where men and probably a few women were seated either on the main floor or up in the balcony that wrapped around three sides of the altar.
A quiet place I would have loved to have just sat in and absorbed the vibe of it. Letting my mind wander and perhaps if I was very lucky - hear the voices of those giving praise to God or to the sanctity of a strong colony and the need for freedom.
But on that Saturday in August, all I heard were the murmurings of the guests. The laughter of a few and eventually, the solemn and yet playful words of the minister.
Who, in his three-piece suit covered neatly by a trimmed white and gold robe, appeared to be two-thirds accountant and one-third reverend, spending his Saturday afternoon officiating for a couple who worked in New York and thought it meaningful to be married in a town founded in 1635.
Where was I in 1635? Perhaps a question for another article.
The words shared during the ceremony were to some extent unique and yet as well worn as the institution itself.
One person promising fidelity to the other. And in turn, having it promised to them. One person professes his love for the other and in turn, she professes her love for him.
Common ground for sure. A practice or ritual, depending on your view of things, that is getting older with each passing year and yet, given the declining stats for the activity, one that perhaps should be altered or done away with completely.
Marriage is an agreement. I will plant an apple tree that will rest partly on your property and in exchange for your approval will provide you with half the apples produced each harvest.
And yet, we dress it up, some might say tart it up if they’re feeling less than generous, and grow it into a costly affair in the hopes that perhaps the more invested in the process, the greater the value of the act itself, the better the odds will be that each party will think long and hard about breaking those vows.
Somewhat like a penalty clause for bringing the construction project in on time and no later.
But how is that working out?
Don’t get me wrong, I like weddings, the simpler the better. Good food and casual conversation around a table filled with enough alcohol to loosen the tongue but not enough to get one dancing the tarantella in front of strangers.
This wedding reminded me just a little of the movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral (one of my all-time favorites) not because there were hijinks on the dance floor or bridesmaids in the bedrooms but because there was none of that.
There was nothing standing between the two getting married and the people watching them do it, other than what was supposed to be there.
Love. A fondness and deep-rooted friendship formed over the years. Common ground and shared sensibilities.
No obvious flaws or taboo subjects. Just two normal people who thought long and hard about sharing the moment with others rather than simply taking photographs of themselves standing before a county clerk and thanking everyone afterward for their gifts.
Weddings tend to bring the basic agreement between the two people out into the opening. Like a board room being opened to the public so everyone can see what is being voted on and what new products will be rolling out in the coming year.
It has the power of perseverance in that one hundred and ten people are in on the “secret.”
All are privy to the promises being made. In many cases recorded for all to play back just to make sure they heard things correctly.
Saying, I Do, in front of that many people can’t help but add gravitas to the moment. It’s not two people in the backseat of a Chevy Silverado talking about commitment and promises made while sharing a can of Colt 45.
And it’s not the number squeezed into the hall that matters, it’s that 10, 100, or 1000 are witnessing the exchange.
Maybe that says to the couple, if I screw this up, I’ll have to answer to each one of them at some point in the future.
And perhaps this is what keeps weddings on the calendar. Keeps people traveling by plane, train, and automobile to distant locations. Not for the food or the scenery but for an opportunity to make one couple’s promise that much more relevant.
A way of paying it forward for all those who came to theirs and witnessed that transaction. That it lasted or didn’t is irrelevant. Marriage is a leap of faith. Writing a fifty-thousand-dollar check and handing it to your broker.
It’s our way of saying - I’ve made mistakes, I’ll no doubt make more in the future, but this act, this agreement is different. Help us make it so.