He thought about Saturn, the stars in the Pleiades, and the Andromeda nebula, and all the bright pinwheels of galaxies out there almost beyond his imagination.
He thought about light and the best title of any book he had ever read, The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
Soon he lapsed into nonwords—just feelings, being quiet in his mind.
He imagined he was leaving his body and standing outside himself, looking down at the man in the bed who was somehow trying to pray.
He imagined he was going off to see God. And the last thing he remembered thinking was, “If I die before I wake, how would I ever know or care? Amen.”
And he slept through till morning.
When he checked the mirror in the bathroom, he was still there.
Propositions—continued:
Rituals are timed by beats of the heart, not ticks of the clock.
Most of our major holidays are connected to seasons.
They are flexible feast days adapted to human needs.
Heart time is not clock time—rituals should never be hurried.
Rituals are frames around the mirrors of the moment.
Rituals are the coin by which attention is paid to the moment.
Nobody lives without rituals. Rituals do not live without somebody.
The function of ritual is paradoxical: to both anchor us to high places on the steep slopes of this world on which we are always losing our footing and to free us from the despair of being stuck in the world’s mud.
Ritual behavior softens the phases of life when we are reminded how hard it is to be human. Ritual behavior enriches the phases of life when we are reminded how fine it is to be human.
Is this so?
UNION
Marriages are not as they are made, but as they turn out.
ITALIAN PROVERB
We know more about weddings than any other public celebration.
You may not be particularly interested in a wedding just now—especially if you haven’t been directly involved in one for some time and are not likely to be anytime soon. Bear with me. I’m using a wedding as a reference story because it’s a common cultural event—a structure on which I can display many aspects of rituals.
Above all, I’m using the story to illustrate how all rituals get reformed.
This wedding story is not primarily about the half-hour ceremony contained in a prayer book and performed in a church or synagogue. It’s about the process of making our public celebrations an authentic reflection of our intentions and feelings. If the best of rituals arise out of real lives, then the real lives must be considered before the ritual can be assessed.
To avoid confusion for you and the invasion of the privacy of others, I tell you now that this wedding story is a combination of three celebrations. Names and places have been changed, but the rest of it is true—it all happened, just not at the same place and time. And the people are real, too—but they all weren’t at the same wedding.
What is essential to see in the account that follows is that the outcome of the story as I’ve told it is truly possible—not just for weddings, but in human affairs of all kinds.
Come to the wedding—you’re invited.
Mary Carrie Goldman and Jonathan Carlos McCarthy with great joy call upon you to be a witness at their wedding and invite you to attend the occasion of celebration.
Saturday afternoon at four, the twenty-first day of June, 1993 Fairview Community Center Columbus, Ohio
Reception and dancing to follow
rsvp
As the guests arrived at the community center around four o’clock, they were directed to the ivy-covered social hall, where high tea was being served. Finger sandwiches and three kinds of tea. An accordionist was playing love songs; several people asked him to be sure and do “As Time Goes By” and “Always” and “It Had to Be You.”
Tea, music, and some time. Nice. The guests seemed to be at ease with this opportunity to say hello to people they knew and to be introduced to those they didn’t know. At so many weddings you go to nowadays, you don’t know who’s who or what’s what.
After everyone arrived, the minister came in, dressed in his black gown. To gain attention, he rang a little brass bell. On behalf of the bride and groom and their families, he welcomed one and all.
He gave a brief description of the wedding service and then asked the guests to rehearse their spoken parts—saying, in unison, “We do,” in answer to being asked early in the service: “Do all those assembled affirm this marriage and give it your blessing?” And he rehearsed them in saying together, “We, your family and friends, now pronounce you married”—to be used near the end of the service. Finally, he led a short practice at applauding and cheering, noting that the guests should not be shy about expressing joy and approval at appropriate places in the ceremony.
Being informed and included in this way put the guests in an enthusiastic wedding mood. Inclusion is an essential ingredient in a great wedding.
–
The minister presented the groom, Jon McCarthy, who in turn introduced his mom and dad, his stepmother and stepfather, his grandmother, his sister and her husband, and his closest lifetime friend—all of whom were welcomed with proper applause.
The minister presented the bride, Mary Carrie Goldman, who intended to introduce her immediate family but instead choked up with emotion. As did most of the rest of the guests. One little catch in the throat can trigger all the feelings people bring with them to sentimental occasions. The minister observed that tears are right for weddings, and that we all bring deep feelings to such an occasion. Acting on these feelings is appropriate and welcome.
The bride’s father, sensing his daughter’s need, put his arm around her and picked up the task where she left off, introducing himself and his second wife, noting that the bride’s mother had passed away but that he and the bride were pleased to have his wife take a special part in the ceremony. When he spoke the name of his first wife, the father of the bride choked up—as did the rest of us, again. By now quite a few handkerchiefs and tissues were in use. The bride laughed, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, took a deep breath, recovered her composure, and introduced her two brothers, her maternal grandfather, a great-aunt, and her closest lifetime friend.
The minister invited the guests to follow him across the lawn into the main hall, find a place to sit, but remain standing. He urged them to select seats as close to the front of the room as possible, including the front row, to be able to see and hear and be participants in the service, not just spectators. He said, “Don’t sit back and watch us—be with us.”
With the minister leading and the accordionist playing an upbeat version of “Pomp and Circumstance,” the guests moved into the hall and took their places. We were ready.
Here comes the groom!
Down the aisle with enthusiasm, escorted by his grandmother, who had his arm firmly in hers.
Behind them came his mother and stepfather, then his father and stepmother and the rest of his immediate family. They took their places on the minister’s left, with the groom standing between his mom and dad.
At a nod from the minister, the pianist played a lovely, lyrical tune composed for the ceremony by a longtime family friend who is a professor of music. The song was like musical candle-smoke drifting in the air.
And, as if carried by the music, quietly, slowly, here comes the bride.
In a bright yellow watered-silk ankle-length dress, with a crown of daisies in her hair. With her dad on one arm and her stepmother on the other, and the rest of her family walking just behind. They stood together on the minister’s right, with the bride still linked arm in arm with her parents.
A silent pause, some deep sighs, nervous smiles.
Ready.
The minister, addressing everyone, said:
Let your presence be welcome—your hearts be glad.
For everything there is a season,
And a time and purpose for every matter
under heaven.
And this is the time and this is the place to celebrate the wedding of Mary Carrie Goldman and Jonathan Carlos McCarthy.
We have come to do all those things, old and new, appropriate to such an occasion.
To say solemn words, to confirm a covenant;
To recognize in this event the place of family, friends, and the human community;
To praise God and the holy spirit of this life;
To laugh and cry, to sing and feast and dance.
Above all, to rejoice in love and its possibilities.
(The minister motioned for us to be seated.)
–
Turning to the parents of the groom, the minister said:
Ian McCarthy and Maria Carlos, you stood in a place such as this in San Diego, California, on December 26, 1960, and made a covenant with one another, while wondering in your hearts what would come of your life together. Part of that answer stands here between you now—in this man you call “son.”
I know the pride you take in him, and the love and respect you have for him he also feels for you. No small part of the reason Mary Carrie chooses him for her husband is all that is you that lives in him—all that you have given to his life from birth unto this day.
Jonathan and Mary Carrie bless you for your part in their marriage.
May we have your blessing on this occasion?
The father of the groom replied:
Mary Carrie, on behalf of the McCarthy family, I welcome you with all my heart and bless your marriage.
Turning to the family of the bride, the minister said:
Abraham Goldman, you and Carrie Edwards stood in a place such as this in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on June 5, 1961, and made a covenant with one another and wondered what would become of you and your marriage. Part of that answer is this woman you call “daughter” who stands beside you now. I know that the pride you take in her, and the love and respect you have for her, she also feels for you. And feels for Louise Rainbolt, who became a mother to her when Carrie died and you remarried. No small part of the reason Jonathan chooses Mary Carrie for his wife is because of all that her parents have given to her out of their lives.
Jonathan and Mary Carrie bless you for your part in their marriage.
May we have your blessing on this occasion?
The bride’s stepmother replied:
Jonathan, on behalf of Mary’s mother, Abe and I and all the Goldman family welcome you and bless your marriage.
The minister stepped forward and addressed the congregation:
You have been called to be witnesses to this wedding because of your friendship and your special relationships to the bride and groom and their families.
I ask if you affirm this marriage and give it your blessing?
The congregation surprised the minister and themselves by shouting back:
We do!
Turning to the bride and groom, the minister invited them:
Jonathan and Mary, come now—stand together here to make your vows.
You have known each other for three years, through the first glance of acquaintance to this moment of commitment. At some moment you decided to marry (and in this case, I believe, it was the bride who asked the groom).
From that moment of yes until this moment of Yes, indeed, you have been making promises and agreements in an informal way. All those conversations that were held riding in a car or over a meal or on long walks—all those sentences that began with “When we’re married” and continued with “I will and you will and we will”—those late-night talks that included “someday” and “somehow” and “maybe”—and all those promises that are unspoken matters of the heart. All these common things, and more, are the real process of wedding.
The symbolic vows you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, “You know all those things we’ve promised and hoped and dreamed—well, I meant it all, every word.”
Catch hands now and face one another to make your vows.
Look at one another—remember this moment in time.
Before this moment you have been many things to one another—acquaintance, friend, companion, lover, dancing partner, and even teacher, for you have learned much from one another in these last three years. Now you shall say a few words that take you across a threshold of life, and things will never be quite the same between you. For after these vows you shall say to the world,
This—is my husband. This—is my wife.
Jonathan, please carefully repeat after me:
I, Jonathan, do take you, Mary Carrie,
To be the wife of my days / the companion of my house /
The friend of my life / and the mother of our children /
We shall bear together / whatever trouble and sorrow / life may lay upon us /
And we shall share together / whatever good and joyful things / life may bring us /
With these words / and all the words of my heart / I marry you / and bind my life to yours.
(The groom lost his composure in the middle of his vows and found it difficult to speak, as tears welled in his eyes. The minister put a hand on his shoulder, and the bride put her arms around her struggling husband-to-be and then wiped his tears with her handkerchief. As the groom finished his vows in a whisper, the bride held him tenderly in her arms and hugged him.)
There was a pause while everyone smiled and laughed a little, cleared throats, mustered hankies and fresh tissues and regrouped.
The minister continued:
Mary Carrie, please carefully repeat after me:
I, Mary Carrie, do take you, Jonathan,
To be the husband of my days / the companion of my house /
The friend of my life / and the father of our children /
We shall bear together / whatever trouble and sorrow / life may lay upon us /
And we shall share together / all the good and joyful things / life may bring us /
With these words / and all the words of my heart / I marry you / and bind my life to yours.
(Perhaps the bride had never seen her strong, hearty husband so solemn or emotionally undone. Those standing closest to the event would later say that as she repeated her vows, he did truly look as though his dog had died. This must have been what undid the bride, for she began to smile and then giggle as she said the words, and by the time she finished the last phrase, she laughed out loud and threw her arms around her suffering groom and kissed him all over his face. And he laughed. And the minister laughed. And the congregation cheered—at the wrong time as far as the official service was concerned, but as for real life, it was a grand moment.)
When things settled down, the bride was still kissing the groom.
The minister tapped the bride on the arm, saying:
Excuse me, but we really should get on with the service.
Laughter again.
May I have the rings, please.
(The bride’s and groom’s best friends stepped out from among the families and stood beside the minister, rings in hand.)
For several thousand years, men and women have exchanged rings as a token of their wedding vows. These simple gold bands are not of great value in and of themselves. But what they stand for now and what they will come to mean over time is beyond price. The great circle of Life itself is symbolized in these small circles on your fingers.
The minister presented the bride’s ring to the groom, saying:
Jonathan, place this ring on Mary’s finger and repeat after me:
Mary, I place this ring on your finger /
as a seal on the covenant I have made with you.
(His confidence restored, the groom slipped the ring firmly onto the bride’s finger with solemn care.)
The minister presented the groom’s ring to the bride, saying:
Mary Carrie, place this ring on Jonathan’s finger and repeat after me:
Jonathan, I place this ring on your finger /
as a seal on the covenant I have made with you.
The minister then asked: What other tokens do you have?
The groom’s father came forward with a black instrument case and opened it before passing it to Jonathan, who said to Mary Carrie:
I told you once that I wanted us to help each other grow and learn. You said you’ve always wanted to learn to play the flute but never had the time. I give you this flute, and I give you lessons and the time to practice. Make music for us.
Mary Carrie took the flute, thanking jonathan with an embrace.
Then she said to him:
My family and I want to place in your care something we’ve had for three generations—something just about every member of our family has used since my great-great-grandfather made it with his own hands for his first child.
Mary’s grandfather came forward carrying an old cradle. The audience erupted in applause and laughter. As the grandfather handed the cradle to Jonathan, he declared in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Fill it up.”
Applause and cheers yet again.
The minister spoke to the congregation, explaining:
I ask each couple who wish to marry to bring a symbolic meal to this occasion—to remind them that in the same sense that their bodies need to be nurtured daily, so does their love.
I ask that they bring whatever is bread and wine to them, but it must be the real thing—their daily bread, no matter what it may be: toast, croissants, doughnuts, bagels, ice-cream cones, or bran flakes—whatever they are most likely to eat each day.
I ask them to bring their celebratory drink—whatever they will use to toast each other on their first anniversary and on all important occasions: fine wine, champagne, beer, water, milk—whatever—the real thing. As a sign that for health and love, we do not live by bread alone.
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