I hate weddings.
There, I’ve said it. It feels good. Say it with me. “I hate weddings!” See? You feel better, too, don’t you?
Funerals? I love them. At funerals people are shell-shocked by the ultimate realities of life, death, grief, and God. You can do ministry at funerals.
At weddings, though, goofy groomsmen in ill-fitting tuxedos try to outdo one another in sophomoric hijinks. The bride, a bundle of nerves, sweats off her make-up and frets about her gown, which is always a size-and-a-half too small.
The mother of the bride ricochets like a pinball from one emotional extreme to another, now collapsing in tears, now barking out orders as if possessed by the spirit of a Marine Corps drill sergeant.
I feel the most sympathy for bridesmaids, usually forced to wear dresses that highlight their worst features.
And the groom? At most weddings he’s an afterthought, just one more prop on the stage, like the unity candle. Except everyone hopes he won’t get lit before the benediction.
Do I sound cynical? Maybe it’s because I’ve had some bad wedding experiences.
I was once roped into conducting a cowboy-themed wedding. The podium was decked out in saddles, bales of hay, and lanterns. The groom wore chaps and a ten-gallon hat. The bride’s gown looked like a red and white checkerboard tablecloth lifted from the Y’all Come Back Saloon. The reception? In a stable. Yee-haw!
I narrowly avoided a medieval wedding. I handed that one off to a new staff member, but I did see the pictures. The bride wore something like a dunce cap. The groom looked as if he were auditioning for the role of Robin Hood at a community theater. He even rode up on a white horse. The preacher had to dress like Friar Tuck; earth-tone robe, fashionable rope belt, no shoes. Wherefore art thou, Miss Manners?
Rev. Decoration
I’m a preacher. I write and deliver sermons. I bless babies and bury the dead. I counsel the confused, comfort the bereaved, confront the complacent, baptize the lost, and pray.
I hate being a religious decoration at the narcissistic cleavage conventions we call weddings. I’m mad as Gehenna, and I’m not going to take it anymore! I like what Jesus said when his mother suggested he help avert a crisis at the one wedding we know he attended: “Woman, why do you involve me?” (John 2:4).
At one wedding I conducted, someone set the candelabra too close to the baptistry curtains. When the air conditioner kicked on, the curtains billowed and the tallest candle ignited the fringe. A quick-thinking elder rushed the podium and dunked the flaming tapestry in the baptistry. An older lady sitting near the front patted her cheeks and said in a wonderful Southern drawl, “Oh, my! We’ve had a baptism of fiah!” Amen, sister.
Maybe we need a little more fiah in the weddings we conduct.
Imagine the prophet Malachi standing before a starry-eyed couple, sternly intoning, “‘I hate divorce,’ says the Lord God of Israel, ‘so guard yourself in your spirit and do not break faith!'” (Mal. 2:16). A homily like that would ruffle some lace.
Or what if the apostle Paul preached a wedding? “It is good for a man not to marry. But since there is so much immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. I say this as a concession, not as a command. I wish that all men were as I am” (1 Cor. 7:1-2, 6-7). That might even get an “Amen!” from the bride’s father.
Strategies for sanity
Don’t get me wrong. I honor marriage. I love being married. It’s the weddings that drive me crazy. If you are a preacher, though, marry them you must. Jesus did, after all, assist with the Cana wedding.
So I’ve been adjusting my attitude. And over time I’ve developed some strategies to help couples spend at least as much time thinking about the marriage as they do the wedding.
Insist on premarital counseling. On their wedding day, a bride and groom simply do not have ears to hear what you say to them in the sermon. You’ll be lucky if they can repeat the vows. They are too stressed from planning, too tired from parties, and too focused on the external decorations to think about internal realities.
In a recent wedding, I noticed the bride was staring at something over my shoulder, maybe a crooked candle or a drooping flower. Whatever it was, it had her full attention. For a moment I had a flashback to the flaming curtains and wondered if I should turn and look to be certain I wasn’t in danger of immolation. To bring her back into the ceremony, I casually slipped her name into my message. She returned from her mental vacation just in time to say “I do.” The wedding came off without a hitch or a call to the fire department.
If you are going to serve a couple effectively, you’ll have to do so long before the wedding day.
I will not perform a ceremony unless both the bride and groom have participated in a reputable program of premarital counseling. Our church offers a six-week marriage preparation seminar each January.
If a couple wants a more personalized approach, I meet with them privately for as many sessions as it takes. We cover issues like communication, the roles of husband and wife, finance, conflict resolution, in-laws, sex, marital expectations, and God’s plan for marriage.
If a couple haven’t adequately explored the commitment required to make marriage work, they may say the right words, but they may not mean them.
Encourage a simpler, more spiritual ceremony. Many weddings, especially those in smaller communities, are the social events of the season. Families are tempted to pull off bigger, more elaborate ceremonies than whoever set last year’s record.
The wedding, intended to be a commitment of the couple’s love and affirmation by their families and the congregation, becomes one more symbol of status. Families spend enormous amounts of money and incur unnecessary debt to make a statement.
I often tell couples to scale back their plans. In simplicity there is beauty. And room for the Spirit to work.
Last year I conducted one of the most beautiful ceremonies I’ve ever seen. And one of the simplest. The bride’s gown was simple yet elegant. A groomsman led congregational singing. The groom’s father led a prayer. The focus of the couple’s lives was echoed in the tone of their ceremony. Their wedding was more worship service than fashion statement. The guests left commenting not about the elaborate decorations they had seen but about the spiritual declarations they had witnessed.
A month later I performed what my secretary and I discreetly referred to as “the mother of all weddings.” Complete with a horse-drawn carriage, a two-tent reception, a solo by the bride’s grandmother, and all the shrimp that could be netted from the Gulf of Mexico, no expense was spared—except, of course, for the minister’s honorarium.
The ceremony was held in a stone chapel, with no air conditioning, in the middle of the Georgia summer. The event was scheduled for 6:00 p.m., giving the chapel all day to bake in the hot sun. People bake pizza in stone ovens because they conduct heat efficiently. So did this chapel. I lost twelve pounds and three guests at that wedding.
You know how a groom will have a little sweat-mustache above his lip just before the “till death us do part” portion of the ceremony? Even the bride was sweating this one. The place smelled like a gym by the time I said, “You may wipe your mouth and kiss your bride.”
Recommend a wedding consultant. You’ve always preached that hell is a place of eternal flame, of weeping and gnashing of teeth, a place where the worm dieth not.
Wrong.
Hell is one long, never-ending, full-dress wedding rehearsal.
For your own sanity, and for theirs, insist that candidates for marriage hire a consultant to direct the rehearsal and the wedding.
Recently I agreed to conduct a ceremony for a couple who believed in doing everything themselves. Their belief exceeded their abilities. I set up the sound system and queued the music. I gave a hapless guest a quick lesson in how and when to run it. I pinned boutonnieres on the groomsmen, lined up the wedding party for the processional, and helped set up for the reception.
Oh, yes, I also officiated the wedding. Good thing I don’t own a nice camera.
Hiring a consultant is one expense that is easily justified. It eliminates much stress for the bride. Consultants help defuse the conflict that often erupts between the bride and her mother in the planning process. Consultants can be tough with mischievous groomsmen, gentle with tender brides, and wonderful with children. I keep the business cards of consultants who’ve done good work and pass them on to the couples I marry.
Set limits—for your sake and your family.A wedding can burn a weekend. Friday night means the rehearsal and the dinner afterward. On Saturday comes the wedding. You’ll be asked to arrive at least an hour early. The ceremony will take the better part of an hour followed by another hour at the reception. Figure in the time it takes you to dress and travel, and half the day is gone. Most ministers already spend some time in the office on Saturday making final preparations for Sunday. It is conceivable to spend a whole weekend helping a couple start their married life while neglecting your own family.
I’ve learned to limit the number of weddings I will conduct to one a month. That policy has accomplished two things. Couples who want me to perform their ceremony have heard they’d better ask early. That helps them and me to plan better. Protecting weekend family time is the second benefit. The last thing I want to do after blessing a marriage is find I need to repair mine.
I have several more suggestions for handling weddings but I’m out of time. I’m seeing this nice young couple who met while learning to skydive. They said something about fitting me for a chute.
Jody Vickery is minister of Campus Church of Christ 1525 Indian Trail Rd Norcross GA 30093 vickery4@mindspring.com
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