Homily at the Marriage of Keith Page and Heidi Schmidt

9 July, 2005

Westmore Congregational Church

Westmore, Vermont

By the Rev. Carolyn W. Metzler+

Text: 1 Cor. 13

Something powerful about weddings--the generations turning over, the children becoming the adults--making room for the next generation. It’s why emo-types cry at weddings.

I remember Keith before he was born, when Lauren came to see me at the convent. She was very pregnant. Sr. Rose Mary pulled me aside later to ask, “Is she sure there’s only ONE baby in there?” The nuns, not used to such wonders, were very impressed.

I babysat Keith when he was 6, and I thought he was a wonder-offspring then. So tall for such a little person, who had thoughts and ideas and could use words to convey them all--absolutely amazing. Little did we guess then about today!

I did not know Heidi until we started working together in preparation for this day, so alas, I have no little Heidi stories. Aren’t you glad? But I love watching Heidi with animals. Her respect for them and her tactile nature is so nurturing. Our Newfie thinks she walks on water. She will be a fabulous mother.

One of Keith and Heidi’s great gifts to the world is their wonderful sense of play. Through the lens of Anime, they interweave fantasy and play in with the day-to-day realities of their adult work-a-day world in ways which are downright--mythological. They know how to have fun, and the fun becomes part of the here and now, adding a creative sparkle to the mundane and the ordinary. I hope you never lose that to become responsible grunts. I’ve listened to you animatedly discussing Anime plots while washing dishes, or arguing characters choices when coming back from walking the dogs. You understand the power of story to enrich and view your own story. You use creativity and play to add a dimension of fun to your lives and relationships. I wish Christians were as excited and knowledgeable about their own use of scripture stories!

Story is most often about choices, and the consequences of choices. There is something powerful about the courage of two people who choose to accept each other, for better, for worse, in sickness, in health, for richer, for poorer, to love and to cherish for the rest of their days, until they are parted by death. We live in a society which does not generally honor long-term commitments. Everything is disposable. If it doesn’t work, throw it out, get a new one. If it looks shabby, sell it at a yard sale and get one that is shinier. If it gets hard, give up and try something else. Marriage flies in the face of all that. You are about to make these vows, and let’s make sure we get the word right: these are sacred vows, not good intentions. These are not fortune cookies. Marriage creates a bond which seeks to hold you together no matter what happens around you, no matter what falls apart, disappears, breaks down, or changes. Because things will fall apart and break down, from washing machines to bodies. And things will certainly change, from tax brackets to waistlines. When you make vows, you don’t say “I will take you as my spouse as long as everything looks the way it does today.” Things will change in ways you now cannot begin to guess.

The words we heard from Paul in1st Corinthians today are about love, but they weren’t written about marital love. Paul was not writing to young adults standing together wearing their best clothing, with shining faces and hopeful eyes, chomping at the bit to get to the kiss. Paul was writing to a baby, fledgling church which looked like it was going to go belly up because, even though it was very new, already it was being torn apart by stupid arguments and inner conflict. Paul was tearing his hair out because his beloved people were coming apart at the seams over things that really did not matter at all.

And that’s why we read this passage. It says that love is not a goo-goo eyed feeling, sweet and schmaltzy, a warm fuzziness of the heart that will last forever. Because it isn’t, and I think you’ve been together long enough now to know that. Love isn’t a Hallmark card. Love isn’t a feeling. Love is a commitment. Notice that you are not vowing to feel love; you are vowing to act on love, no matter how you feel. It is a promise to continue together even through the times when the ooey-gooey feeling is long gone. It bears all things, says Paul, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Or perhaps better said, it endures through all things.

But all this committed love doesn’t fall into a vacuum. All the intentionality in the world doesn’t mean squat apart from the physical world. The great gift of weddings is that they remind all who witness these vows of the goodness of physical creation. Our bodies, growing and touching, moving together, are wonderful. The gift of our senses to explore and learn, to experience fully and celebrate beauty, is a real focus of marriage. The gift of sexuality, with all its passion and fun and its ability to hold us in times of pain, is holy. I have loved listening to you both as we met together. But I have also loved watching the two of you as you spoke, moving together for support and comfort, moving apart for individual discernment, looking back and forth, playful at times, tearful at times, always very present to each other in your bodies. You both love each other in mind, soul, and body. Marriage is never abstract; it is always incarnational, grounded in the flesh, and knowing it to be good. The word was made flesh and dwelt among us. That’s why the most powerful stories are about real people. That’s where reality leave fantasy in the dust.

Two more things to say. The first, also from Paul, says that now “we know only in part…We see in a mirror dimly. Later we will see face to face; now we know only in part, but later we will know fully, just as we have been fully known.” This certainly applies to the life of love. Each day is an unfolding of our life in this wondrous universe, like a rose opening slowly to the sun. But the same is true in marriage. Each of you is a mystery, known fully only to God. Each of you is a work in progress, unfolding little by little to yourselves and to each other. Do not assume you know each other well yet. That might sound like a funny thing to say when you’re getting married, but it’s true. You are each always capable of surprising each other; of growing in new ways; of discovering new interests, new insights, new ways of being who you are. Allow each other that freedom, and honor that Mystery. The poet Rilke writes “We are each guardians of each other’s solitude.” Part of being whole is being alone, being independent. Then you can each bring yourselves, whole and unique into this wonderful marriage, and grow together into something which standing here today, you cannot yet imagine. Now we see only partially. Only in time shall we see wholly.

And the last thing I want to say is not something we usually think about at a wedding, but it is always the elephant in the room. That is, your days together are numbered. If you are making vows “until we are parted by death,” we need to say something about that also. This is not to be morbid, but the reality is that we do not go on forever. And the gift of knowing that is that each day is precious; each day is a gift. You are a gift to each other, you are each a gift to the other’s family. And together you are a gift to your community, and perhaps one day to your children. It is not a gift that is without end. But the end makes holy the gift while it lasts, a relationship of enduring value and worth. As the poet Eliot writes, “You are the music while the music lasts.”

And you do not do this alone. Only you two can hold your marriage together over time, but you do not do this in isolation. You have family and friends who love you, you have communities which also love you, and you have this gathering of your fans who have promised to uphold you in the making of your vows. Good people, I charge you to be faithful to what you have promised. You know how hard marriage can be. Help them. Listen to them, encourage them, support and pray for them. Speak truth to them, and most of all, love them all along their journey together.

So let’s proceed with what we came here to do. We go forward now in faith, the faith that you each have in yourselves to be able to hold these vows no matter what, faith that the other will be faithful to these vows you make also, and faith that the Holy One will give you the strength and courage to hold them until you are parted by death. We go forward in hope, that you will each be to each other a guide, a lover, a friend, a companion of the soul. And we go forward in love. Faith, hope, and love abide, these three. And the greatest of these is love. God bless you.

Amen.