Monday, October 8, 2007

Ten Years of Blessing Grace

In the sermon yesterday I lamented what has become for me consistent experience with weddings -- when three-dimensional symbols and rituals are flattened into two-dimensional, obligatory "acts" to check off the list. Unity candles often fit that description, becoming mere ceremonial drama, empty of any philosophical -- let alone theological -- importance. Even the wedding ring is too often simply a gift of jewelry rather than the constant reminder, in the thick as well as the thin of married life, of a love that is willed and not merely felt; of promises made and publicly – even divinely – attested.

In the sermon I confessed that "as a pastor I have come to have something of a love/hate relationship with weddings. Don't get me wrong; I'm in favor of them. But I loathe officiating at those whose motions are perfunctory; whose actions are ceremonial; and whose values are principally aesthetic – where the most important questions are 'Is the aisle runner straight?' and 'Do the flowers match the bridesmaids' dresses' and 'Does the gown appropriately highlight the bride's tattoo?' You know: the really important stuff."

I like to believe, of course, that I am different. Now two weeks past the 10th anniversary of my own wedding, how have we done?

Pretty well, thank you. To be sure, we don't always see eye to eye. Admittedly, the sight of the gold band around my finger doesn't always recall to my consciousness that moment in front of the evergreen tree when we looked into each other's eyes and made breathtaking promises. But it happens more often than not. Having planned an outdoor wedding, we had the sense to forgo the unity candle. But the third dimension of that familiar ritual -- the understanding that in marriage two individuals co-create a third living reality that requires care and nurture and constant attention -- we have pretty well embodied. That's not to say that this "third flame" doesn't get hungry every now and then, but from my vantage point it has never become malnourished. We talk. We listen. We pay careful and caring attention. We laugh. We refuse to let our aggravations talk louder than our affections and appreciations.

In our wedding ceremony, my Dad, the officiant, observed in light of 1 Corinthians 13 that "we can't always be patient and kind, but when we are, God is there." By that measure, it's no wonder that life in the company of my blessed bride these ten years has literally been divine.

Patience, kindness, passion and romance; forgiveness, tenacity, imagination and prayer. Those, and constantly blessing grace.

We have, it seems to me, created something precious together. There was, to say it another way, evening and morning: the 10th year. And behold, it has been very good.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I've become sufficiently cynical about superficial, saccharine modern weddings that I won't even GO to one unless someone is a close friend/relative.
But I'm glad there are couples like you and Lori who help keep me from being just as cynical about the entire institution of marriage.