Altar the Laws

Gay marriage is back in the news. On the positive side of the ledger, Connecticut just became the third state to legalize same-sex marriages. On the negative side, both vice presidential candidates were quick to denounce gay marriage in their recent debate.

I have to wonder: Among those who have railed against same-sex marriages, how many have actually attended such a ceremony?

Jack Silbert has. And I lived to tell about it. You know what, my friends? It’s not a big deal. Not at all.

I found it amusing that to get to this very “liberal” event in western Maryland, I’d first have to travel through a large red swath of Pennsylvania. Thinking I could do a little good for my man Obama, I attached his MoveOn.org bumper sticker to my 1991 Corolla before making the drive.

When I stopped for gas in a small southeast Pennsylvania town, circled by pick-up trucks with the occasional Confederate flag sticker, I wondered if perhaps I’d erred in judgment. Was everyone staring at me? Was a beat-down imminent? And yet, going to the back of my car, I noticed that my bumper sticker must’ve fallen off at some earlier point in the trip. It was as if a higher power was telling me, “Look, you’re already pushing your luck around here as a Jewish guy driving a Japanese car. Let’s take your support of the Hussein-middle-named candidate out of the mix, shall we?” Either that, or MoveOn uses a cheap adhesive.

Several hours before the ceremony, I accompanied my friend the bride to a local hair salon. One of the friendly employees asked if I was the groom. Rather than go into a full explanation, I merely said that, no, I was just a friend. I didn’t want anyone’s political or religious leanings to adversely affect the bride's coiffure.

I arrived at the bed & breakfast/farm where the ceremony and reception would be held. I can’t say I knew what to expect. Perhaps a sexy, Eyes Wide Shut-style bacchanalia? But in fact, in nearly every regard, the event was identical to a heterosexual marriage. Let me count the ways:

• Just like most of the recent weddings I’ve attended, I was once again invited without a guest. And boy, if you thought I had a hard time picking up women at these other affairs, try surrounding me with lesbians. (Actually, the crowd was a good mix of straight and gay, families, couples, and singles, young and old, and no one seemed the least bit traumatized. And no one got cooties.)

• Up at the altar, one person wore a dress, and one wore a suit. This was the fourth lesbian wedding attended by the woman sitting next to me, and it was the fourth time she’d seen the dress/suit combo. Though she guessed that two dresses or two suits would also work just fine.

• As usual, the ceremony was filled with enough Jesus talk to make me, the secular-humanist Jew, quite uncomfortable. (Also quite uncomfortable: Wearing a suit at an outdoor ceremony in stifling, late summer, south-of-the-Mason-Dixon-Line humidity. And yet removing the jacket was a no-go; it would reveal that I’d completely sweated through my dress shirt.)

• The pastor asked if anyone had any reason why these two should not be wed. I resisted the urge to shout out, just as a goof, “Because it is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord! Hallowed be thy name!”

• Scanning the crowd, I spotted him: the token black guest. Yes, gay weddings have them too!

• As with many weddings, a modern touch that probably seemed like a great idea in the planning stages didn’t quite gel in reality. In this case, it was a group sing-along of the Cat Stevens classic “Morning Has Broken.” Sing-alongs generally don’t go well when most people only know the first three words of the song. Next time, I suggest a crowd pleaser such as Don McLean’s “American Pie.”

• What wedding would be complete without an obscure ethnic tradition mangled beyond recognition? Here, a party guest with roots in war-torn Georgia served as the “tamada” for a traditional Georgian toast. Guests were to speak on a chosen theme, and end by saying “Gaumarjos!” (meaning “Victory!”). In practice, though, no two guests seemed able to stick to the same theme. And forget about pronouncing “gaumarjos.” A nation wept.

Not being as up-to-date on gay marriage legislation as I could be, at the time I wasn’t sure if such marriages were legal in Maryland or not. Was this a "commitment ceremony"? A "civil union"? Sure seemed like a wedding to me. It said “wedding” on the invite. There was a flower girl. Ring bearer. Rose petals. A dad escorting his daughter down the aisle. “You may kiss the bride.” Numbered tables. DJ. Dance floor. Chicken. Fingerling potatoes. Cutting the cake. Clinking glasses. A happy couple kissing. They’re in love, and no one is going to tell them they’re not married. Even if the pastor did smilingly pronounce them “unlawfully wedded.”

Forty-seven states to go, huh? Well, if the basic concept of equality doesn't sway you, how about the economy? Think of all the event-planners we could employ! The cater-waiters! Surely you fingerling-potato growers have lobbyists on the payroll. Let's get on it, people. Time's a-wasting.