Sunday, April 22, 2001

‘Til death do us part

By FATHER KEVIN PEEK
Parochial Vicar

I met her at seminary, five years ago, in what we Catholics call a holy hour — an hour spent in prayer, adoring, thanking and praising God for all his great and glorious gifts, not the least of which is our life and our salvation, Jesus Christ.

Being far from home, just three miles below the Mason-Dixon Line, it was just as comforting to be in the presence of my God as it was to hear her beautiful Southern lilt warming up the worship hymns filling the homely chapel where we gathered. She was young, beautiful and full of the life and joy of the Holy Spirit, and her voice and mannerisms brought to mind all that I missed and longed for in my Southern roots.

Soon enough we had become close friends.
She was from Sumter, S.C., a town spared the ravages of the Union armies, rich in the traditions of stately homes with large porches and tree-lined streets. Her boyfriend had followed her from there to Mount Saint Mary’s College, which shared campus and facilities with Mount Saint Mary’s Seminary, where I was enrolled.
They were a wonderful pair, longtime sweethearts who knew each other’s every thought, and shared a common faith and vision in life. They were famous on campus not only for their frequent attendance at holy hours, but also for the talks on chastity and virginity they would give to high school youth in the area.
But something happened on the way to heaven, so the song goes, and they went their separate ways, aching in their hearts, knowing how difficult it would be to discover again so special, so holy a companion in this sexually disordered world.
Last fall I got a call from Hilary. “I’ve met this guy ... and I think he’s the one! We’re coming to town and I’d like you to meet him. Can you make some time?”
Could I make some time? I love this girl like a sister, for I see Christ in her every thought, word and action. One of God’s most innocent creatures, and now, having just completed her healing from this painful chapter, she’s ready to settle on the first thing that comes along and wants me to validate this?!

The news got worse; he was a West Point graduate, helicopter pilot, finishing training at Ft. Rucker, Ala. Being the son of a Navy pilot and knowing what the training atmosphere at most bases is, I thought with Nathaniel, can anything good come out of Rucker? Needless to say, a follow-up call by her mother, full of her concerns that a lifetime of love and nurturing and protection was about to be undone by some upstart serviceman, had me in full prime to head this guy off at the pass.

But I had plenty of reason to pause. First, Hilary is still a level-headed, Christ-centered woman. After graduating last May, she took a job teaching an abstinence-based chastity program to inner city high schools in Philadelphia, not the easiest thing for a petite Southern young lady to do. Secondly, a Godly friend of mine at seminary, another West Point graduate who was called by God to the chaplain corps from the mine detonation corps, had introduced them. Finally, she still respected and desired my opinion before allowing herself to be fully given over to him.

So we arranged to meet, and had dinner in the Newnan Applebee’s. She was more bubbly and alive than I had ever remembered; he was quiet and studious, while given to break out spontaneously in warm, slow smiles. There was a definite peace there, as we bowed our heads to pray. In a few minutes, he excused himself to the restroom (it had been a long, three-hour drive), and she took the opportunity to share a beautiful moment with me.

It had happened a few days before. They were on a date when they began to discuss and then read the Bible. As time passed he grew silent, and she looked up to find tears in his eyes. Asking him what was the matter, he responded with a gentle kiss on the lips. Stunned, she sat back as he quietly informed her that she was the first girl he had ever kissed. “Then why did you?” she asked. “Because you are the one I’ve been waiting for,” he replied.

An Army pilot, rough and tough, athletic virgin to the point he had never even kissed a girl before, and a girl who was as pure and alive as the first day of spring; this was truly something glorious to behold. Here was no ordinary couple, distracted by the false idols of passion and emotion, caught up in the lies and emptiness found in extramarital sex and self-gratification. This relationship was founded upon the rock of truth, the truth of what it means to be human, and to be in relation with one another; and was being developed by the principles of love, as set forth by Jesus Christ. No, it was no ordinary couple, and it would be no ordinary marriage.
Marriage, in the Catholic Church, is seen as an institution so close to the heart of God as to have been elevated to the level of sacrament by Jesus Christ. A sacrament is most simply defined as a physical sign, or symbol, pointing to or representing a spiritual reality. Water is used at baptism, not because God has to have water to wash away our sins and make us his sons and daughters, but because we need to have a physical sign through which we can grasp and understand what is happening spiritually, as well as have a verifiable instant in which we can be sure that this essential moment in our salvation has indeed occurred.
Marriage is a sacrament, therefore, precisely because as it seeks to achieve its ideal, it points to and reveals the union between Christ and his church. What we see in Ephesians 5 concerning marriage is termed a mystery, a mysterion, something holy, because it refers to Christ and the church.

This is born out when we take a simple survey of the Scriptures. Beginning in Genesis we find God creating Adam and Eve, and instantaneously upon creating them, he marries them, using the time worn formula: “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and cling to his wife and the two shall become one flesh.” For God and his love are often invisible and hard to comprehend, and so it was not good that man should be alone but should rather have someone with whom to be wholly given and to wholly receive in imitation and reflection of the love of God — never to replace or supercede it.

Thus our Lord reminds us that marriage is simply a sign for this life, for when we get to heaven and see the source and summit of all love, there will be no need for the sign or symbol and therefore “no giving and taking in marriage.” But in the meantime he gets a lot of mileage out of the closely related symbol.
Throughout the Old Testament, he pursues his people Israel as a suitor would his beloved, wooing her with gifts and calling her with gentle words. Hence when she goes astray, he responds like a spurned lover, calling her not only idolatrous, but unfaithful and adulterous — marital terms. The prophets were often asked to take prostitutes as wives to further drive this point home.

In the New Testament, Christ performs his first miracle at the wedding feast at Cana, blessing the occasion with rich and abundant wine, symbolizing the grace he would soon bestow upon us. He restored marriage to its original state before the fall, calling the Pharisees and scribes to consider how things were “in the beginning,” and to live, by the grace of God, accordingly, with no divorce and no adultery, not even in thought or heart.

The Apostles balked at this command, saying, “Then who can be married?” to which Christ answered, “For some it is not possible, but for God all things are possible.” Repeatedly, in explaining the realities of the kingdom, Christ himself used marriage as the underlying analogy for his parables. This all comes to a culmination finally as the book of Revelation calls heaven the “wedding feast of the Lamb,” with Christ as bridegroom and the New Jerusalem, the church, as the bride, never to be separated, never to be unfaithful, always open to begetting new life.

Thus marriage is never to be entered into lightly, and so we require a six-month, intensive course of preparation that entails some essential elements, but is free to be embellished upon by the individual priest.

Hilary and her friend John wanted me to prepare them because they felt that I would be tough and rigorous in preparing them. However, they informed me, they had already read “Love and Responsibility” by Karol Wojtyla (now Pope John Paul II), “Humanae Vitae” (a document on the meaning of sex and marriage and the contradictory nature of contraceptives and sterilization), and “The Role of the Christian Family in the Modern World” (another document detailing the duties of the family in today’s vineyard of the Lord.

“What shall we do now?” Hilary sweetly asked. “Go buy a dress,” I uttered in amazement.
Never had I seen a couple so eager to understand marriage in the fullness of God’s plan, and actively pursuing its perfect reflection.

That night they stayed in the basement of my home next to the church; she on the queen-sized mattress covered with comforters, he on the thinly carpeted hard cold floor outside her door. The next morning they left for the airport where they were to exchange his car for hers, and continue on to Sumter. But her car wouldn’t start, and we wound up at a car repair shop nearby, where everyone in the place including the secretary was carrying a weapon of varying caliber, while Hilary sat in the unlocked car outside.

To the West Point graduate, familiar with their daily presence, it did not occur to him that his potential bride to be was sitting out in the unlocked car in a neighborhood that was the furthest thing from the safety of an Army outpost. This was the only oversight of utmost respect and care I ever saw from the young man, and it was quickly remedied.

It was a good thing they were so advanced as preparation was going to be tough; she was still in Philadelphia and he in Alabama. The only other time we were able to gather, we discussed their understanding of marriage and their willingness to embrace the entirety of this institution as set forth by the Lord for the good of the couple and the increase of the kingdom of God.

To this end I directed them to continue spending time in prayer, doing holy hours often — but one a week must be on their own with God, so that he would have their full attention to speak and be heard. This request was met with appreciation, though reluctance at the thought of having to be alone.

Then came a blessed break: the Army had given him transfer orders, which included a month off before he was to report. He made arrangements in Philadelphia to stay with some friends, and proceeded to join Hilary at her job, speaking to the high school students about chastity and abstinence. While there they continued their course of preparation, and continued to develop in purity of love for one another.

Love is a funny word. We use it to describe so many things: I love pizza, I love to paint, I love you. The truest definition of love is God himself as John tells us that God is love, he is the only source thereof, he owns the monopoly. But in transcribing what this means to us lowly humans, he tells us, “No greater love has man than this, to lay down his life for another.”

Hence the epitome of love is self-sacrifice; not necessarily out and out dying, but offering up our lives, our hopes, dreams, desires, goals and aspirations day in and day out in order to put the needs of another first, before our own. This is the mystery of the crucifixion, this is the mystery of love. The two are intrinsically united and intertwined.

For us as humans to truly understand, experience and celebrate love, we have got to see and embrace this fundamental principle revolt against this society of self-gratification and glorification. Many couples today are not in love with one another so much as they are in love with what the other does for the one — only to wake up later to find that the other has lost the ability or creativity, and therefore the appeal, and the desire and commitment wane and disappear.

This couple had discovered the truth about love, and grew more and more deeply in tune with the expression of this reality.

As the day approached, Hilary’s mom called to make sure of my travel plans and to recant any and every doubt she had ever shared with me or anyone else about the worthiness of this man for so precious a young lady. I asked her about the plans for the wedding, for the uniqueness of this couple and the depth and purity of their love had to be reflected somehow in the celebration of their union. So much can be told about a couple and their understanding of Christian marriage in general and their marriage in particular by the way they plan to solemnize their commitment.
Often weddings that are simply trying to give validity to a couple already living together and/or sexually active lack the depth, the passion, and the joy of the couple who come in a sense of innocence and purity. One priest I know says of them, “There’s nothing new there but the cake!” But with John and Hilary, I was not to be disappointed. The grace and beauty of God was painted across every moment of the weekend.

I arrived at about 4 in the afternoon, on an unseasonably warm February day, to find a driveway full of college and seminary students who had driven 12 hours to be there, the first of two more waves of caravans coming to witness this holy occasion.

As I had not celebrated the Mass yet that day I went to the church early, before the rehearsal, to do so. Several of the students followed, desiring to spend that time in prayerful preparation and union with the Lord as well. One must not miss this point: people desiring to be Christian, truly Christian, answering the call of the Lord not simply to obedience but to holiness, surround themselves with friends who do the same.

We arrived at the church, built at the turn of the last century, sturdy in its age, with great stained glass windows shining forth the message of salvation, pulled from the scriptures and spelled out in art where even the illiterate might find the knowledge and love of the savior. We prayed the prayer of the marriage covenant between God and man, as we began a weekend for the celebration of the marriage covenant between John and Hilary.

The voices of the girls present flooded the high-peaked ceiling with the glory and praise of angels and God took his place on the thrones of our hearts. Soon the wedding party arrived and introductions were made; from parents to siblings, college friends to squadron buddies, all wore a sense of impending mystery at what had brought this couple together and what we were to witness in the day to come.
It didn’t take long for the manifestation of the grace of God flowing in the lives of this couple to begin taking place. Some people speak of a charmed life or of a specially charmed moment; I think it comes from the individual’s response to the overabundance of grace passing in and around us. The grace took hold as the practice went on, a ceremony simple in style took on all the elegance of a royal affair, including the saber arch of the academy men.

It continued as we retired to one of the spacious old Southern homes, complete with vaulted ceilings and front porch swings, for a relaxing dinner of barbecue and cole slaw, cornbread and sweet tea. Then it was back to church around 10 p.m. for a holy hour of praise and honor to our God.

The sanctuary was softly lit, with candelabra illuminating the altar upon which was placed the sacrament of the Eucharist, the holiest of sacraments, pointing directly to the physical presence of Christ himself. The musicians tuned up their instruments and the voices began to lift the name of the Lord higher and higher.
Bride and bridegroom, maid of honor and best man, father and mother, grandfather and grandmother all joined in prayer and song to thank the doer of all good deeds, not the least of which was creating this couple. The sacrament of Confession was offered, and one hour became two, as many present sought to renew their relationship with Christ through confession of their sins. Young and old who had never experienced this form of worship before lingered long and stayed late to drink in the power of God’s glory. Finally around midnight the evening was ended, lest no one be awake and alert for the morrow.

The next day dawned bright and beautiful, an incredible day that seemed to show the very approval of nature herself. It was time for the bachelor and bachelorette party: a soccer game, together, on the field behind the local high school. Christians do not succumb to superstitions, such as not being able to see one another the day of the wedding. While it is a delightful idea to surprise one another by not seeing the wedding garb before the wedding, all else is simply foolishness.
Much fun was had as the military men mixed it up with the seminarians and priest, and the ladies came up with critical and tactical plays to contribute to the sport. No one got hurt, which was the greatest relief and blessing; then it was over to a nearby hotel for a breakfast buffet and some wonderful conversation and relaxation.

The party then dispersed, with the girls retiring to one house, and the guys to another to get ready for the 7 p.m. wedding. I went to sit in the church to listen to the choir prepare, to hear more confessions, and to get my thoughts together for the homily I was to preach. I had prepared to preach on the cross of Christ as the sign of truest love and therefore the heart of every Christian marriage, but I wasn’t sure if this would be too heavy for a wedding congregation intent on living it up.
Suddenly, I looked up at those same stained glass windows and discovered depictions of the seven sacraments there. The artist who designed the symbol for the sacrament of marriage had placed a man’s hand entwined with that of a woman’s around the base of the cross! It was as if 2,000 years of tradition were breathing down at me at that moment telling me to preach the word.

I quickly went and began to write an outline, a sketch of what I wanted to say. About an hour before the wedding itself, the doorbell rang and I opened up to find the groom standing on my doorstep holding in his hand a crucifix, a cross with the body of Christ suspended upon it, reminding us of his union with our suffering, and his commandment for us to unite with his. “What do you have?” I asked. “A relic of the true cross,” he responded.

As I stood astounded, looking on this cross in utter amazement, he asked me what that meant, having dutifully repeated what his friend had said it was but with no real understanding of what it was that he held in his hand.

A relic is a piece of material that is either directly from the body of someone considered to be very holy, or from something that has been used by them in their life, or from something that has been touched to any of the above. The history of this practice is ancient, and finds its roots in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles: the woman with the flow of blood is cured by touching the hem of Jesus’ garments, and cloths touched to the apostle Paul and others are found to have healing power as well. Thus, the crucifix that this young man held was actually a reliquary, a “container” for a relic, a piece, of the cross upon which hung the Savior of the world.

Now this of course could be considered ridiculous and hard to prove except for the facts of the mission of St. Helena in the 300s after the conversion of her son Constantine, the emperor of the Roman Empire. At that time she immediately went to Jerusalem, still under the control of the Romans and not too much the worse for wear since the time of Christ (except for that matter of the destruction of the temple, not a small change that!).

She was able, then, to bring back to Rome the stairs of the procurator’s palace (which Jesus would have walked up to his judgment before Pilate), a piece of the pillar upon which he was whipped, and many other relics of the passion and death of our Lord. The search for the true cross is depicted in paintings in the Church of the Holy Cross just down from the Church of St. John Lateran, the original cathedral of the popes in Rome.

The party, it seems, had dug and discovered a depository of several crosses on a location near the city of Jerusalem, and Helena, having taken ill, was carried to the spot where she began to pray and touch the crosses. Upon touching one, she was immediately cured. Word spread quickly, and the mother of a young man that had just died had her son brought to the site and laid upon the same cross, at which he came back to life and health.

The cross was preserved there, but was stolen, then reacquired, then brought to Rome. It is preserved in its largest portion in St. Peter’s basilica, but from time to time the popes have allowed tiny splinters to be taken and distributed among the people of God for their devotional aid (one of which was subsequently taken into space by an astronaut and released there, symbolically to send the message of the gospel not only “to the ends of the earth,” but to the ends of the universe!).
Each piece, no matter how small, is accompanied by a document of authenticity, as you can imagine imitations abound!

So what this young groom-to-be was holding was a piece of the very cross of Christ, the most powerful sign of the love of God, the reflection of which is the heart and soul of the marital union he was about to undertake! A chill went down my spine; the providence of the moment was incredible. I quickly asked him if anyone else knew he had this relic, and he assured me that other than his friend who had given it no one else did. Taking it from him I urged him to secrecy and began to concoct a plan.

Catholic weddings can ordinarily take one of two forms: either the ceremony can take place within the context of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass or it can stand alone. Ideally the Mass is the perfect culmination of the wedding ceremony because the marriage is created by God to reflect the love that we remember and celebrate most directly in the celebration and remembrance of the passion, death and resurrection of the Lord in the Lord’s Supper, the heart and soul of every Mass. This wedding was nothing but ideal, and so the Mass began.

The order of the Mass can vary somewhat in content but rarely in structure. Very simply, we gather as the Body of Christ to the altar of the Lord, where we remember what he did for us and what we are to be doing in return for him and our fellow man, our brothers and sisters throughout our community and world. We begin then by acknowledging our sinfulness, falling short of the calling and the glory of God, and asking for forgiveness. Then we read from the Old Testament, the Psalms, the New Testament and the Gospels to get a sampling of the overall covenant and its specifics which we have entered into through Jesus Christ and need to be reminded of often.

Following this, the minister of the Lord will attempt, to the best of his ability, to help the people understand the commands of the covenant, its application in our world today, and its promise or peril for our life in the next. We then recommit ourselves to the covenant by a profession of faith formulated by the church fathers in the 300s, and then consummate and celebrate that union with God in the ritual of communion, a sharing in the body and blood of Christ, as St. Paul calls it, or as Mother Theresa perceived it, the closest thing to heaven on earth.

The church that night was packed, though it was a small church, built in a day of very few Catholics in the South, and the mood was light and electric. The groom and I waited at the altar, while the couples came solemnly yet blissfully down the aisle. The military men in their best dress uniforms smartly complemented the fair beauty and innocence of the woman they escorted.

The virtue and devotion of these men caught me off guard. I was expecting rough and tough, somewhat arrogant officers, and instead found a nobility of character and a love of God and his church that is rare in men their age today, but touched the heart and countenance of every person there, every friend this couple had ever made.
Was this a coincidence? Was this happenstance? No. We become like our friends; we become like the people we hang around. Knowing the grace and faith of this couple, I could see their impact on each and every face in the room.

Then the bride arrived in the door of the church, in simplicity, yet stunning beauty. Beauty does not come from complexion or tone or makeup coordination, but from the soul. We are body and soul, and the two are so intimately intertwined that whatever affects the one has an immediate effect on the other. Unrepented sin, or even more simply a crisis in faith, begins to dim the light in our eyes and distort our countenance; just as an abundant and overflowing faith, alive in the grace of Christ Jesus, can add a brilliance and luster of divinity to the most homely of faces.
Hilary’s natural beauty was perfectly sparkling as she stepped through the door with hardly any makeup at all.

The ceremony proceeded as usual, and seemingly all too quickly we were at the homily, or the sermon as some traditions call it, in which I was to expound on the message of scripture in light of the marriage we were all there to witness. I began to speak of the love of God as expressed in the revelation of Jesus Christ, and its culmination in His passion and death. So many times in the writings of the early Church fathers do they refer to the passion, and specifically the crucifixion as the nuptials of God and man.

To memorialize that moment of love He instituted the Eucharist, the sacrament that uses bread and wine to become and make present the very physical body of Christ Himself, in the context of the Lord’s Supper, which we Catholics call the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. This ceremony was reflected perfectly in the scene before us. I recalled that at the start of the meal He spoke of how much He has longed to share this meal with the Twelve. How much had John and Hilary longed to share this union together? He took the bread and gave thanks to His Father, blessed the bread, and gave it to His disciples. John and Hilary gave thanks to the Father for their very lives, and offered them to Him and to one another. Even the words He used to memorialize that marital love, “This is my body, which will be given up for you”, could easily have supplanted the wedding vows themselves. They speak of the total and complete, irrevocable, and fruitful gift of the Son for the good of all humanity; an action that the married Christian couple are called to imitate and reflect in their every thought, word and action throughout their life together.
Incidentally, this is why we come to an altar to be married. Throughout the Old Testament, altars were places where sacrifices took place; things died on altars. The husband, in his vow, is laying his life on the altar to be sacrificed for his wife. All of his future—his hopes, dreams, and aspirations—are all placed into her hands to do with as she will, as Christ placed Himself in the hands of mankind. The wife then responds in kind, sacrificing her life on the altar, and placing her future hopes, dreams and aspirations in the hands of her husband.

This is why, I then demonstrated, the artist of the windows of the church had placed the cross in the center of the embrace of the hands of a man and a woman as the symbol for the sacrament and union of marriage. The heads in the church turned to look, as long-married couples themselves began to look pensive, reflecting on the nature and fulfillment of their own marriage vows. The Christian couple is called therefore to embrace the cross, not run from it, as the forge in which their union with one another and with Christ is completed for all the world to witness and respond. Marriage itself is a ministry all its own, lifting high the power and glory of God daily in the midst of humanity.

Concluding my remarks, I asked John and Hilary if they so wished to receive and respond to such a vocation from God in the vineyard of the Lord they needed to now come forth and pronounce their vows. Rising, they stepped forward to the foot of the altar, where I met them to question their intentions. Before a priest can witness such a union, he must make sure that the couple intends to embrace the fullness of the Lord’s mission in that union. They must intend faithfulness to their spouse, permanence of the union, and openness to life. After all, this is what we glean from the action of the crucifixion, in which we find the greatest summary of the love of God. He gave Himself totally and completely to us, with nothing left for anyone or anything; thus excluding the possibility of adultery in marriage. He gave Himself irrevocably to us as well, (and thank God He did because I’m sure there has been a time or two in the midst of our greatest divisions here on earth that He probably wanted to change His mind!) But He never for a second has forsaken us, and never will, no matter how bad things get, thus excluding the possibility of divorce in the life of the couple. Finally, the love of God is fruitful, bringing physical and spiritual new life daily to the world. A couple seeking to participate in the fullness of the love of God must therefore be open to life, bringing new life to one another and to their children.

John and Hilary eagerly responded to each of these questions of intention in the positive. Then, turning to face one another, taking each other’s hands, they prepared to pronounce their vows. It was at that precise moment that I stopped the ceremony. Hilary looked momentarily bewildered and the entire congregation strained to see as I turned to the altar immediately behind me to retrieve the relic of the true cross of Christ that John’s friend had given him and which I had placed there prior to the ceremony. Turning again I held it aloft, reminded them of the image in the window, and placed it in the intertwined fingers of their right hands.
The power of the moment was intense as a breathless and reverential awe fell upon the people, and John poured forth from the depths of his heart the words of his vow that he had committed to memory. Overcome with the raw emotion of the moment and the wonder of the Spirit, Hilary searched his face, trying to record every moment, every word to her memory. Shaky at first, then rising in strength and intensity, she too poured forth the same beautiful words of surrender from her heart in perfect memory, as if she had been waiting to say them her whole life long. Each word they spoke was a gift wrapped package containing the entirety of themselves being delivered into the soul of the other, who embraced it longingly, and consumed the contents. When the vows were completed, I retrieved the relic and replaced it on the altar. I couldn’t help but think that her parents, who attend that church almost daily, would never be able to look at that window the same again; nor any of us in the church that night.

The Mass continued as usual, with the celebration of the Eucharist, and the union of the couple completed in their union with the physical reality of Jesus Christ. But the Christians union with Christ, as with their union with one another in marriage, is not to be a personal and solitary matter, but exists secondarily to be a source of life and love for a hurting world as well. Thus the Mass, and the wedding, end with those familiar words “Let us go in peace, to love and serve the Lord and each other.” The Academy honor guard took its place, and following a lengthy and passion-filled kiss, that yet somehow still remained simple and pure in its nature, they passed through the sword wielding cadre where she was to be welcomed by a traditional slap on the backside by the sword of the last man.

This famous tradition, I felt at first, didn’t belong in such a dignified and grace filled ceremony. While not immoral by any means, it was somehow inconsistent with all that preceded it. Then I remembered that though Christ was truly God when He walked the earth, there was a genuine realness to His humanity that made Him affable and approachable to the entire spectrum of the people in His day. His holiness was in the mix of the milieu, able to meet people where they were at and take them higher. And so the slap occurred, though it suffered a bit for lack of smoothness and crispness; a testimony perhaps to the soldier’s own hesitancy to distract from the sacredness of the moment.

We met outside on the front steps in a jubilant jumble of hugs and tears, laughter and cheers. The conversation and congratulations there truly was a joyful noise unto the Lord. It seemed like all the hosts of heaven were looking down from the starry sky upon the ambassadors of His kingdom on earth and rejoicing as if for the Incarnation all over again, as this newly rejuvenated congregation and couple brought Him out into the world. Pictures followed, but I remained in the back in prayer, giving thanks for having been allowed to be part of such an event. The words of Simeon came to mind, “Now you let your servant go in peace, your word has been fulfilled, my own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people.” Truly this couple would be revealing that salvation to many for years to come.

The reception was held at a beautiful antebellum mansion, gutted for such a purpose, only a couple hundred yards away. As the West Pointers in their waistcoat tuxedos, gloves and sabers walked the sidewalk escorting their ladies, the scene on the historic drive was more indicative of the 1870’s than it was of the year 2001. The stroll in the fresh air added a bit of a carefree air to the occasion and set everyone in a mood to relax and unwind. Upon entering the house, one was greeted by a lively and noisy group of family and friends, with children running in between them all, trying to be the first to see the couple, or get a piece of cake, or dance with their new found friends.

Second of course to the wedding ceremony, receptions too speak volumes of what the couple think of marriage in general and their own in particular. Though most receptions take place right on the heels of a religious service in which they proclaim God to be the source and cause of their life and union together, few there are that actually could convince the objective onlooker that such was true.

Oftentimes the gatherings breakdown as soon as the entertainment begins, with songs riddled with immoral language or sexual licentiousness, or games and dances that degrade the dignity and decency of the individuals called forth to participate, undermining the very truths that make marriage what God designed it to be. Then you have the open bars that encourage some to drink beyond their limit because its free, never mind the fact that the Scriptures forbid drunkenness and state it will keep one out of heaven. Needless to say, this reception was an expression of the couple who threw it, an extension of their grace and Godliness.
As I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, I broke immediately for the food and drink, and though I rarely drink alcohol I couldn’t help but notice that it was being served, but punch and sweet tea requests outnumbered it at least six to one, adults included. The place was packed; it seemed like more were there than were in the church itself. I was caught up in one conversation after another, mostly friends of the bride, who wanted to thank me for my homily and tell me of their own ministries in marriage and family life. It stands as no surprise that the ground these two came from is rich and fertile soil. Time came for the toasts, and everyone in the room turned to the dance floor where stood the wedding party, glasses in hand. God was thanked for His providential care, and the simplicity and innocence as sister toasted sister and brother, brother was refreshing.

There was, however, no garter toss and this was a curiosity to me. I couldn’t remember if I had ever talked to John and Hilary about this. From my earliest days of studying marriage, sex and sexuality in the Christian mindset, I could never understand how a tradition like this could ever find its way into a ceremony reflecting the love of God for His bride, the Church. The Scriptures speak of a jealous God who is purifying and cleansing the Church for Himself alone. For a husband to expose the innocence, the dignity, and the beauty of his bride, given to her by God and preserved throughout her life, and so recently entrusted to his loving protection and care is a betrayal that should shame the hearts of all who witness it. John’s decision not to retrieve and toss her garter, while all the men in the room would gawk at her and wrestle over her lingerie, spoke the language mentioned above: that her beauty and innocent purity were hers and God’s alone and had been entrusted to him for protection and exclusive union in mutual self-donation, and he was not about to betray her and expose that precious gift to the eyes of lusting men.

In response then, there was no tossing of the bouquet. Instead, Hilary mentioned to those gathered that that very day was the fifty-seventh wedding anniversary of her grandmother, whose husband, Hilary’s grandfather, had passed away before she was born. The woman had never remarried, and now stood as a beautiful pillar of strength and witness to perseverance and fidelity in her own right. It was at that moment that it struck me. The real sign and effect of the activity of the grace of God in one’s life is the nobility and dignity with which they handle each and every aspect of their lives. Everything about this couple was a class act! One couldn’t wait to see what they were going to do next to top the last grace they had displayed. Their very existence was a work of art. Like King Midas turning everything to gold, they transformed everything in the grace of almighty God and it ws wondrous to behold.

But alas midnight came too soon, and parents, grandparents and other family lined the front hall to see them off. No rice or bird seed, bubbles or bells, just the love and best wishes of all poured forth into the gentle evening air. Yet something was seemingly missing—the getaway car, traditionally to be decorated and festooned with all kind of paraphernalia, was no where to be seen. Undaunted by the absence of transportation, John walked Hilary to the door, where he proceeded to gently pick up Hilary, still dressed in all her finery (and he in his!). Out he walked, down the steps and on to the sidewalk, turning east out the front gate and walking a block or two back up the street before switching over to the opposite side and disappearing up a cross street.

Great laughter was shared by all, watching this prince carry his damsel away, back out into the same world we had all left a few hours before; a world often filled with hardship and heartache, disillusionment and disenchantment. Yet for a few short hours, we had been treated to a taste of heaven, a peering into and discovery of the innards of God’s divine life. And so they returned to the world, to be in it while not of it, bringing the fire of truth and the power of love capable of restoring the vision and understanding of the purpose of marriage, the meaning of life, and the love of God to all who will be open and receptive to their ministry. Just think if all marriages began in such a way, with such a foundation and understanding, a sense of mission and ministry, a hunger and thirst for the realities of the kingdom of God—what a different and beautiful world this could be.

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