Antiphon 18.2 (2014) 115–143 Coins and Care-Cloths: The Mystagogical Value of Traditional Wedding Customs Michael P. Foley May her bridegroom bring her to a house Where all’s accustomed, ceremonious; For arrogance and hatred are the wares Peddled in the thoroughfares. How but in custom and in ceremony Are innocence and beauty born? Ceremony’s a name for the rich horn, And custom for the spreading laurel tree. W.B. Yeats, “A Prayer For My Daughter” Yeats’ prayer for his two-day-old daughter Anne contrasts the arrogance and hatred of public life that foment war and anarchy with the custom and ceremony of the home that give rise to innocence and beauty. The great Irish poet was not Catholic, and though we might quibble with his understanding of innocence and beauty, his assertions about the power of custom and ceremony in fashioning a happy marital life are a starting point as good as any for reflecting on why the Church adorns her rites of matrimony with traditions that are not, strictly speaking, essential for confecting a sacrament. A wedding where “all’s accustomed , ceremonious” has several advantages. Longstanding nuptial traditions connect the new couple to all who live in Love’s eternal memory, situating their love for each other in a broader and greater narrative of grace, self-sacrifice, and redemption. One wonders if the phenomenon of “bridezillas” is not unrelated to a decline in traditional religious weddings. A monstrously selfish bride operates under the delusion that she is at the center of things rather than the most recent link in a chain of lovers who, following the footsteps of Christ the Bridegroom, take on awesome, humbling, and self-denying responsibilities. At the very 116 Michael P. Foley least, a bride’s egocentrism—or the groom’s, for that matter—is not helped when she is encouraged or allowed to be the creator of her own vows and rituals.1 Moreover, traditional wedding customs are as much a faithful guide to the present as they are a bridge to the past. As we will see in this essay, liturgical nuptial traditions have a pedagogical import, teaching both couple and congregation something about married life. Such teachings are particularly beneficial given the multi-faceted nature of marriage, an institution that combines often-thorny issues such as sexuality, parenthood, extended family , ethnic heritage, and civic responsibility. Even when elevated to the dignity of a canonical channel of grace, marriage does not lose its unique combination of high and low, for it continues to involve (and in a most intimate way) the body personal and the body politic even as it participates in the Body Mystical of Jesus Christ. Marriage is the only sacrament dissolvable upon exit from this life because it is the only sacrament with a peculiar purchase on the goods of this life. It is, to quote another poet, the one sacrament where candidates approach the altar with “carnal and devout intent alike.”2 As such, it is appropriate to have lessons on matrimony’s heavenly and worldly complexity taught through the effective medium of ritual participation and representation.3 1 Conversely, one wonders if older couples from earlier generations did not experience the same need to renew their vows in a separate ceremony because every wedding they attended felt like a de facto renewal , especially when the wedding so closely resembled their own. 2 Alexander Pope, “January and May, or, the Merchant’s Tale,” l. 310. 3 What Pope Pius XI wrote when he instituted the Feast of Christ the King can be applied mutatis mutandis to the power of ritual as well: “People are instructed in the truths of faith and brought to appreciate the inner joys of religion far more effectually by the annual celebration of our sacred mysteries than by any official pronouncement of the teaching of the Church. Such pronouncements usually reach only a few and the more learned among the faithful; feasts reach them all. The former speak but once, the latter speak every year—in fact, forever.” Pius XI, Encyclical on the Feast of Christ the King Quas primas (11 December 1925) 21. See also Second Vatican Council, Constitution...
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