Weddings are an offering

 (The following is from a wedding I officiated this past weekend.)

Photo of a table centerpiece at a wedding reception. Different kinds of off-white flowers, including roses, with lots of greens sitting above a tall clear vase. The banquet room has an A-frame roof with clear glass windows framed with stained wooden beams. Wedding guests are seated and standing about in the background.

Almost 28 years ago, when he officiated at our wedding for David and me, my colleague Bill Youngkin said that every worship service has an offering, and at a wedding it is the wedding vows, partners offering themselves to each other. In some wedding liturgies, we hear these words, “I take you to be my wife, I take you to be my husband.” In the United Church of Christ, the promises made sound like this: “I give myself to you to be your wife, I give myself to you to be your husband, I give myself to you to be your partner, in the covenant of marriage, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, as long as we both shall live.”



Some wedding liturgies take this offering even further: “With my body I thee worship”. With my body. I thee worship. One of the most vulnerable things we do as human beings is when we offer ourselves to someone else, whether it is in marriage, in intimacy—physical and emotional, in friendship, in parenthood, in service to others. Such vulnerability requires a great deal of trust. Trust that we have each other’s backs no matter what. Trust that our emotions, who we are as a human being, is safe with another person. Trust that our body in all its glory, in all the ways it can change, is cherished unconditionally.



Trust does not come easy and neither does vulnerability, especially in the midst of a pandemic. The unbreakable, unshakeable human covenant has deep fault lines running through it right now. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been more guarded and nervous these past two years even as I still try to connect with others, as though my laughter is going to turn into tears at any moment. I would be remiss if I didn’t name the grief and trauma we are living through, because grief and joy live side by side, just like laughter and tears. And what is an offering if it is missing half of its worth? How can we worship our beloved with our bodies if we devalue or ignore part of who we are?



Holiness and wholeness come from the same root. Joy and sorrow travel the same path. We share when we have plenty, we ask for help when we are in want. We worship our beloved with our bodies in sickness and in health. We celebrate all of this with a party, with promises made in the company of those who love you, M* and S*. Offering oneself in the thick of uncertainty, being vulnerable in a time of distrust, to inhabit joy in the midst of sorrow, is an act of resistance. This is no small thing that you do today, to bring us all together, to celebrate this offering of trust and vulnerability, this offering of love and yes, holiness. Occasions like this remind us of what life is worth living for, that love is the whole package, the happiness and the pain, and that while we have love, the world only knows it by how we live it. When we share it. When we make an offering of it and ourselves.



We don’t have to be married or make love to render an offering of ourselves, to worship others with our body. When we wear a mask, when we get vaccinated, we are worshiping others with our body. When we smile with our eyes, when we breathe calmly and listen to someone, when we wait patiently, we are worshiping another with our body. When we take only what we need, when we share what we have, when we remember that wholeness is for all beings and creatures, we are worshiping the earth with our body.



This is how healing begins. This is how seeds of trust are planted. This is how we become a wholehearted human being.



M* and S*, may you be blessed,
that you may have the grace
To live the promises you have made.
May you be safeguarded from all that would compete
with your love for each other.
Let your love for each other be a strength within your hearts,
A comfort about your shoulders, and a shelter above your heads.
May you learn the patience of undeserved forgiveness.
May you be blessed in your work and in your companionship,
In your sleeping and in your waking,
In your joys and in your sorrows.
May your marriage bed be a place of peace, pleasure, and rest.
May you be brought to old age, rejoicing in love’s winter
More fully than in its springtime.
The peace, love, and joy of all our hearts this day
remain with you always.
Amen.