Royal Wedding Recant

True story: I posted my Royal Wedding Rant in the wee hours of the night, and then hastily took it down the next morning, when, in the cold light of day, I realized that I had typified myself as a bitter old woman with no hope – but not before a robust 39 people had had the opportunity to read it and form opinions about my perceived state of ongoing misery.

Therefore I feel I must further unpack my comments, and perhaps qualify them with a few points that, in my state of royal grumpiness, I had overlooked.

First: I stand by my suggestion that perhaps there was a touch too much money poured into this particular matrimonial event. No woman, princess or not, needs a $600,000 wedding dress.  I also feel duly entitled to my opinion that all of the media hoop-la was a little excessive.  But then again, I feel the same way about the idolization of rich and famous people in general.  I simply have no interest in pop culture and its dull derivatives.  I prefer dead baroque musicians.  Call me quirky.

So there we go.  The royal wedding phenomenon, as a newsworthy event, struck me as a rather silly over-investment of time and money, when there are so many more interesting things in the world with which to occupy oneself.  French grammar, for instance.  I truly do get a kick out of French grammar.

Yes, I’ll concede that I’m an anomaly when it comes to entertainment.

But that does not make me a bitter old woman with no hope.  For that, we must address my feelings about weddings, and marriage, in general.  And that is a stickier topic indeed.

First, I should (begrudgingly) concede that my own not-so-great marriage experience is not necessarily representative of everyone else’s.  I generalized, which is an easy thing to do when half your friends are divorced, and a good number of your other friends are either a) unhappily married, or b) happily unmarried.  Not to mention the sorry example of the father of the royal groom.  I would go so far as to maintain that even the relationships that appear the happiest still harbour some hidden sadnesses and frustrations. How could they not? Not one of us is immune to the relational imperfections and disappointments that play a part in defining the human condition.

What I failed to recognize in my rant, however, is the flip side of difficulty: the possibility there can be an overarching, deeply meaningful experience of grace in the midst of a “for better and for worse” existence.  There is “worse,” but there is also “better.”  And for many, the “better” outweighs the worse, or at least distributes the weight of it equally over the frames of two supporting souls.  Again, that was not my experience; but I am told that it can, and does, happen… so why not lend a little optimism to our royal couple, and the masses they represent?

I suppose the thing that triggered my royal-wedding-gag-reflex was the disparity that so often exists between words spoken in idealized circumstances (and what could be more ideal than Windsor Castle?) and lives lived when the festivities end.

If I strip away the superficial, external irritants that, to me, were just a distraction from the true purpose of the event, and look more closely at the substance of the ceremony, I have to say that it was the words that bothered me the most.  I take words very seriously.  Especially words in churches.  So let’s undertake a little textual criticism, shall we?

From the official transcript, then, here goes:

As much as I concur with the bits about “delight” and “tenderness,” I wince at the words, “joyful commitment to the end of their lives.” Please, be honest.  Commitment is not always joyful.  It is difficult.  If it weren’t, we wouldn’t need to make the commitment to begin with.  Sometimes we wish to comfort one another, but we don’t know how.  Sometimes we feel too weak to offer any strength.  Sometimes our longing for companionship is thwarted by the demands of our outward lives, by our commitments to other things and people, or by our own insecurities, which leave us feeling weak, lonely, and wounded.  Sometimes, the “good” and the “bad” are not external forces to be weathered by a unified couple, but rather, conditions that the couple themselves creates.  How, then, can they comfort and protect one another from harms they, themselves, inflicted? And what happens then to “delight” and “tenderness”?

It bothers me that the words spoken at a wedding do not address this reality.  It bothers me that we deliberately perpetuate the image of the perfect, lifelong embrace.

You may argue that statements like “joyful commitment to the end of their lives” are not guarantees, but simply descriptions of the ideal state to which we should all aspire.  But what about a vow? A vow is you saying, “I will do this.”  Not, “I’ll try my best, as long as it’s convenient,” or “I’ll appear to do this, under certain conditions.”  And certainly not, “I’ll expect this of you, but you mustn’t expect it of me.”  It’s a promise.  And I really don’t think people take promises very seriously much of the time.

What does it really mean to “forsake all others”? What does it mean to “honour” someone? What does it mean to be “faithful”?

I think it means that the person you are looking at when you say those words becomes the most important person in your life. I think it means that you treat them well, no matter what. You don’t let anyone or anything take their place in your heart or mind.  They are your priority.  You are theirs.  It means that decades later, when you are hurting, you can look at them through the tears in your eyes, and say, “but you promised.”  And that promise, made so many years before, under such different conditions, still means something.  You are not exempt.  Nor are they.  You are bound to your initial intention to make one another’s lives better by being together.

That’s a tall order, don’t you think? Those are some pretty heavy words to say.  They certainly aren’t words meant for the press or the commentators.  They are sacred words spoken between two souls, within earshot of others:

This last promise, to me, carries a whisper of hope. “Support” and “uphold” are words of possibility.  They are words of solidarity.  They are words that say, “You are not alone in this.  That is why we’re here.  Not so we can say we’ve been to Windsor Castle.  Not to see our faces on television.  Not to examine everyone else’s hats.  We’re here for you. When you are struggling, suffering, or hurting, we will be here to listen to you, to comfort you, to offer our love.  When you are overwhelmed, we will bring perspective.  When you are in conflict, we will make ourselves involved in bringing about resolution and reconciliation.  When we want your attention, but your spouse needs it more, we will say, ‘Go.  Be with the one you love right now.  We can wait.’ We will be the ones who help you keep your promises when you have come to the end of your ability to be the protective, faithful, joyfully committed people that you truly intended to be.”

But again, how many people really think about the meaning of “supporting” and “upholding” when they murmur, “We will” in obedient unison? How many of us really consider the power of those words?

So yes, the Royal Wedding made me grumpy, because I felt that the glitz and the glamour obscured the true sanctity of the occasion, and because I had my doubts that the words spoken (beautiful words, really) really meant what they were supposed to mean.

It’s not that I think weddings are a bad idea, or that people make a habit of deliberately lying to each other at the altar. It’s just that people seem to skip to the “I do’s” without really seeming to hear the words that preceded:

The text from the opening is clear: “Marriage is a sign of unity and loyalty. . . No one should enter into it lightly or selfishly but reverently and responsibly in the sight of almighty God.”

If everyone meditated on these words, rather than on prevailing fashions or juicy speculations, a wedding would be a true delight.  It would be one of the sweetest exchanges one could ever witness.

I just want people to tell the truth.  I want them to think about what they’re saying, and then do it, even when it’s hard.  If I ever find myself exchanging rings, I want to believe what I am saying, and I want to be believed.

I’m not saying that it’s easy, or even possible. Perhaps the vows need to be rewritten to indicate honest intention rather than cross-my-heart-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-my-eye certainty.  Perhaps as friends and family members, we need to learn to be a little more intrusive when we see that things aren’t going well.  In those instances when promises are not kept, and reconciliation is not possible, perhaps we need vows for leaving well.  And for those who have been left in one way or another, perhaps we need vows for maintaining our identities, our optimism, and our joy.

Which brings me to one last point: that of my apparent ongoing misery.  Please allow me a little artistic license.  I wrote the royal rant on a down day (we all have those, right?) and posted it prematurely.  My bad. I generally let these musings digest for a few days before dumping them on my 39 faithful followers, but in this case, I subjected you to some needless negativity.  I should have been more careful with my words.

And so, to those of you who are wondering, “Is she okay? Is she happy? Is she bitter? Is she miserable? Is she suffering? Is she hopeful? Is she thriving?” – I am all of those things.  Day in and day out, my emotional landscape is a kaleidoscope of shifting insights and perceptions.  Sometimes, when the colours are particularly striking, I wish they would just stay still for a little while, so I could preserve the goodness of those moments.  But there is beauty in the changing, too.  I will never have a mind that just stays still, and that’s okay.

That’s why you’re here, after all – to consider our cosmic existence in all its complexity, as seen through my admittedly spirographic lenses.  I will not limit my prose to simplistic, envy-inducing proclamations about my perfect, bucket-list life.  That’s not what words are for.

Words are for expressing truths about our inner realities, whether they be sacred vows, mountaintop epiphanies, or flippant royal rants. Take this, then, my Royal Wedding Recant, for what it is – a careful re-examination of words written in haste – and guard your words as I hope our royal friends are guarding theirs.

And while I’m in the mood for excessive honesty, I should confess: I do have strong opinions about Camilla’s flamingo hat.