| As much as we can
benefit from the presence of a sanctuary, a set-aside place, we still know
that the sanctuary itself is not God, not the holy other, but simply a signpost,
a connector in the presence of which we open ourselves to a reality beyond
what can be seen.
And so I discovered why this iconoclast still
needs icons, symbols, signposts, and traditions to pull me away from everything
ordinary and connect me to the transcendent. Immediately, I also found a
new way to understand marriage.
Let me explain.
A marriage is not a pair of rings exchanged and
worn for life. Nor is it a legal document or license. Nor is it even a set
of vows spoken out loud in a holy place in the presence of witnesses. A marriage
is a living entity, invisible, transcendent, a third person created by two
people who make a commitment of marriage to each other. It has a life of
its own. The marriage is an invisible life that breathes and grows, and because
it has been intentionally created by two people, its existence marks the
relationship between those two as different from any other relationship:
set apart, sacred, other, different, extra-ordinary. But just as the sanctuary
and the traditions themselves are not the spiritual reality, neither are
the rings or papers the marriage. The sanctuary and the traditions are visible
symbols that draw us to the invisible. The rings and vows are constant reminders
that there is a life between us that can't be seen, and that marks this one
relationship as different from any other relationship we have. The husband
has many relationships with others: workplace colleagues who share common
tasks and visions, his children who look up to his example, his extended
family with whom he shares history and stories, neighbors who are greeted
with small-talk about weather or local news. But his wife is different: she
knows his heart, she can sense when something is wrong, he can let his guard
down with her, no-one else knows him like she does, for better or for worse.
She seems to know him |
sometimes better than
he knows himself, and he's learned t o list en to her insights and see himself
in a new way. The wife also has her relationships: children for whom she
cares and labors, co-workers who may delight or irritate her, friends whom
she sees at the gym or in the neighborhood, a hair-stylist who understands
just the way she wants it cut. But her husband is different. She knows she
can trust him to hear her deepest feelings and not betray her confidence.
She can lightly accept and appreciate affection or kindness from anyone else,
but her heart soars with the tender words of this one man. She can depend
on his help without any fear of ridicule when she feels tired or overwhelmed.
This one man is not like any other to her, not perfect, but like a safe harbor,
a shelter, a sanctuary.
So now it makes sense. Ceremony, tradition and
ritu al in a sacred place mark the birth of a marriage. Being born in
transcendence, the marriage grows and lives there: other-ness, difference,
a relationship that has no equal. The rings are symbols and reminders of
the presence of that invisible life that is nurtured and sustained by the
two people who created it at a particular day in history, in a sacred
sanctuary.
Guard that secret life, protect it, walk softly
in its presence, treat it like no other. When the rapid pace of life makes
our heads spin, when human relationships are often impersonal and shallow,
this marriage will be a lasting and beautiful retreat, a breathtaking sanct
uary, ornate and quiet, and as near as one's own home. A thing of
beauty.
Warmly,
Robert & Gail
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