The Jewish Observer

I enjoy being friends with whom I love; sharing good times and celebrations. Years ago it was our children’s b’nai mitzvah. Now it is time for the weddings. I was not a rabbi when all of our children were 13. I am now. That means I look at the wedding not just as a joyful moment for our friends and their children, but as a rabbi analyzing the professionalism of what my colleagues are doing. I try not to let this detract from celebrating with friends, but I guess it is unavoidable. Kind of like a classical musician attending a concert, who could not help but analyze the music and offer criticism.

I am kind of tempted to do a cheesy ripoff of the great Dickens novel and say, “it was the worst of times, it was the best of times.” There, I did it. How else to describe the pair of weddings I witnessed the past two weekends? I am so very fortunate to attend the sacred moments of dear friends. But a wedding has more at stake than a concert, however. It creates a memory that the new couple will look back upon for their entire lives. So as I began, it was the worst of times, it was the best of times.

Let’s do the easy part and discuss the best of times first. This was the wedding of a former student of mine who himself is now in rabbinical school. His parents are close friends of ours. The rabbi was superb. The traditional wedding liturgy is beautiful in its simplicity and content. The highlight is the sheva b’rachot, the 7 wedding blessings, which increase in expressions of joy as they progress. At this wedding, conducted by the bride’s family’s rabbi, the couple elected to create their own vows. The rabbi let the simple beauty of the liturgy take a central role, giving space for the couple to creatively express their love for each other. Hardly a dry eye was the result. The rabbi then proceeded to add just enough of his personal reflections and humor to complete the ceremony and make it very personal. His connection to the family and his appreciation of the groom were sincere. The result was a holy moment on which all present will look back upon years from now and smile.

Now comes the hard part, looking at wedding number 1. This was also the son of dear, long time friends. It was officiated by two clergy, a rabbi and a priest. OK, I know what you might be thinking – that I am objecting to an interfaith wedding or to a ceremony that tries to blend two traditions that I frankly find unblendable (not really a word so I have just invented it). I have thought a lot about both of those possibilities before writing this. I do not object to the marriage at all. Even though the bride was nominally Catholic (it was her parents who insisted on involving a priest), she is a thoroughly delightful, bright, accomplished young lady who truly is a great match for our friend’s son. Even more, it was clear that despite the goofiness of the ceremony, these two are so happy to be together nothing could dim that or lessen its value. No, in the end, all of my difficulty came from what the rabbi represented – a shallowness and a lessening of the rabbinic calling.

For the rabbi behaved less like a rabbi and more like a character in a skit from Saturday Night Live. She over enunciated the Hebrew (even mispronouncing some). Waved her arms in dramatic gestures, made grandiose statements about love, and clearly did not really know the bride and groom, but was putting on a great show of intimacy and knowing them. The couple found this rabbi on the internet. She is one of many who make a living (who am I really to criticize how people put food on the table?) conducting any ceremony, anywhere, for anyone (not just weddings but any religious ceremony). She advertises how beautiful the wedding moment is and how all couples, regardless of religion deserve to have that wonderful, sacred moment.

Exactly!

The sacredness of the moment comes from the sincerity expressed during that moment. So I wonder how a wedding officiated by someone found on the internet, which tries to force together two very different traditions essentially just to please a parent or a grandparent. The first wedding I described was authentic. It was grounded in a 3 thousand year old tradition, making good use of that tradition yet giving the couple the space to express themselves. All of this raises a question; how does the interfaith couple have an authentic ceremony?

I think there are a few different ways. First, choose a religious tradition, at least for the ceremony, and let the clergy of that tradition just do the best wedding he/she can do, with appropriate adjustments to the couple’s situation. The best service any clergy can do for a couple is to know when it is not appropriate for them to officiate. The elements must be genuine. A second possibility is to have a religiously neutral officiant, like a judge or notary – especially if the family has a close connection to someone who fits that description. A secular ceremony conducted by someone who knows either family is far preferable to a “rent-a-clergy.” Another choice is for the couple to write a ceremony and have a close friend conduct it. It is easy to get licensed to do weddings online, which sounds counter to what I have been saying, but if a close friend does this and conducts a ceremony crafted by the bride and groom, that is also far more real than what I just witnessed. Other clergy might disagree, but religion does not have to be part of a wedding ceremony for it to have deep meaning for the couple. And IF religion is part of the ceremony, my humble opinion is it should be an authentic presentation of the religious tradition. It should be used if and only if this has meaning for both bride and groom.

But most disturbing to me is the denigration of the rabbinate as authentic teachers and representatives of Jewish tradition by creating sham ceremonies. In the name of making people feel good, of being accommodating, of trying to be everything to everyone, a rabbi (or any clergy) dilutes the power and sincerity of the moment. Rabbis are supposed to be teachers. We can sometimes teach best by telling a couple why our participation in a particular ceremony is not appropriate. Being a rabbi sometimes means accomplishing more by lessening ourselves.

It is of no surprise, and I feel speaks very well of the couple in the wedding we witnessed, that they realized the silliness of what happened in their ceremony. They did what they felt was necessary to please parents, and I know their fate as a couple does not hinge on the rabbi’s performance. They will look back at the experience and laugh over a funny story. That’s great, but wouldn’t it be better for them to look back at their wedding ceremony and smile over how meaningful it was for them?