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| It was a wedding I’d just
as soon not do. I didn't know the folks, it was sort of rushed, most plans
were unsettled. I learned that they had run out of clergy choices. I'm
used to being the minister of last resort. They definitely wanted a minister
and didn't have a church of their own. |
| They wanted a church wedding,
but I couldn't help. I suggested a couple of neutral sites, since I donut
invade territory already claimed. |
| While at their home for
a preliminary interview, I found them engaged in a vigorous attempt to
convince a church to allow use of their building by another minister (me).
I whispered insistence they ask the local person to officiate. The resident
minister could not, but they would allow me, since they knew me. |
| The couple was a bit hard
to interview, since she spoke only Spanish, he only English. I managed
to get the drift and got a vision of what they hoped for in the way of
a wedding. I gave a few planning instructions and went home. |
| Over the next days they
were able to put all the parts together for a wedding. I spent time with
the secretary of their chosen church. I also went to my Spanish dictionary
and Bible to find words to attempt a bi-cultural wedding. |
| On the appointed day I was
full of questions. I did not feel good about the groom's stability. I was
not sure but what the bride was really trying to keep from being sent back
to Costa Rica by immigration people. But the sun was shining. |
| Arriving at the church I
began to meet a few of the people. The best man cornered me and told me
he wasn't sure he should participate. He'd been praying about it and knew
the groom enough to have doubts. He wanted to do God's will. I did too,
and if ever I knew anything about what God was thinking I’d certainly try
to do it. |
| Next came the stand-in for
the bride's father. He wanted me to know that the bride's family was sure
they were marrying for the immigration people rather than forever. I said
I wouldn't be surprised, but hoped not. He proved to be a mainstay in the
whole show. |
| I was invited into the chapel
by another serious looking couple. To pray, perhaps? Not! We all sat down
and he was forthright: “We think this wedding is a travesty.” He went on
to point out that he didn't think the couple sincere. (His wife nodded).
He knew it wasn't God's will. (That's two, now). He thought I should cancel
the wedding as a representative of Christ and the church. How could
I compromise my vows to God by performing such a wedding? |
| Up until that time I had
some doubts about what I was doing. But after all these people had declared
for themselves and God, and had dared to doubt my pedigree (they had no
previous knowledge about how bad I really am), I was more convinced than
ever that this was my kind of wedding. |
| When time came, all those
who were praying about whether to participate, and those who were sure
I shouldn't desecrate the church and diminish Christ and disappoint God,
actually lighted candles, escorted ladies, and went through the ceremony.
But without joy. |
| I mixed poor Spanish with
plain English, imploring God, Christ and all there assembled to aid, encourage,
help, pray for, and love these two into keeping vows they had just spoken.
I got everyone to agree by saying “Si!” |
| After I pronounced the Vaya
con Dios, they kissed and went happily down the aisle. The wedding party
grudgingly followed, but I thought I detected a moist eye or two. I even
had a moist eye myself. |
| I don't do marriages, just
weddings. I never bet on outcomes any more. I've seen marriages too good
to be true, unravel. And I've seen marriages with little hope thrive into
old age. If marriages were half as good as weddings, it would be a different
world. You know, now that I think of it, all the Latino marriages I've
done are still intact. Those ladies take marriage seriously. I went home
unpaid, as expected, but glad to do what I happen to think Jesus would
have done. I only wish he'd been there to turn the water into wine.
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Art Morgan, January 2000
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