Backward Britain (I'm a little angry)

A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The sun for sorrow will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. 

- Romeo and Juliet

What a bleak morning. Cold, dark, wet. Most appropriate for my mood. I should probably wait until I am in a calmer frame of mind before I attempt to craft some sort of response to the appalling result of the Church of England's General Synod vote on women bishops. 

But, really, what is there to say that hasn't already been said, and said betimes? I've offered my views on the matter in a number of occasions, most notably here: "Girl Power". And although my tone is largely flippant, there is a great deal of seriousness there.

The most shocking points are that the motion was defeated by a narrow margin, a mere 6 votes, and the dissenting constituency was the Laity. Not Bishops (both the current and in-coming Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams and Justin Welby voted in favour of women bishops), not Clergy, but the Laity. Those representing common, every day folk.

As sit here, a Churchwarden and key-holder of my local parish church, I cannot understand how anyone could possibly need to grapple with this issue! Our tiny village congregation is overwhelmingly female, and I am sure we are the rule and not the exception. Of our two Churchwardens, both of us are women; of our Readers, one is male, one female; of Clergy, one male, one female. An absence of women in roles of leadership and authority would bring our little parish to a halt. And, I have no doubt, in this day and age, that we are not unique. In our Benefice of 6 small parishes, half of the Churchwardens are women.

Of course, I am not equating being a Churchwarden with being a Bishop, but my points are that leadership, whether on a day-to-day parish level or diocesan level, is leadership; and that the face, heart and soul of the CofE -- on a day to day level -- is largely female.  

At a time when the Church is asking itself how it can reach out, be relevant and meet the needs of an ever-changing contemporary world, we take a step that appears positively Medieval! "Transform communities, make new disciplines," and etc. How can we do this when the message is quite clear: the contributions of women in the Church are valued - up to a point.

Today's news hurts, and it hurts us all. The Traditionalists and the Evangelicals - a rather odd marriage if ever there was one! - may have won, but at what cost?  

There is one Traditionalist group who call themselves Together 4ward. (Yeah, right.) How can we move forward together on this? As someone who has seriously contemplated -- and continues to contemplate quite seriously -- the possibility of pursuing a vocation within the Church of England, what am I meant to make of this result? Should it give me pause? 

Of course, one does not or should not pursue a vocation with an eye to achieving top tier status, one pursues a vocation to serve. It is a calling to humble action, not an aspirational career move. That being said, how can the Church counsel its women novitiates, mentor or encourage them with a stained glass ceiling above their heads?

And perhaps, this is what the Traditionalists and the Evangelicals wish for most. That women novitiates will be put off, give up, give over and move on. "Why bother", I saw one woman had written on a news comments page, "I'll just become a Methodist." Alas, no! Do not retreat! This needs to be a call to arms! "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"   

This is a time to demonstrate that women within the Church of England are here to stay, a force with which to reckoned, and we'll not give up the fight! 

Eat. Sleep. Sing.

The month of November has dissolved in a haze of train journeys, cough syrup and rehearsals. For the second year running, the DEB and I are participating our village Music Hall, which is great fun, but also a massive undertaking. At this stage in the proceedings, I start to lose the will to live, and begin to question why I have forced myself through this grueling routine.

The major difference in this year’s experience is the fact that I am now more actively employed (yeah!) than I have been in the past, so my energies are occupied across a variety of fronts; and I have far less “recovery” time.

Music Hall is a great joy, I have rediscovered my love of musicals and singing. And, it’s all for a good cause, but my god, the time and commitment it takes! And, I think, the harder we work, the easier it appears to be, which is such a contradiction. On the surface it seems a doddle: two rehearsals a week starting in late September, with a few more sprinkled in as time goes on. But, it truly is an all-consuming endeavour. And, then, the cold kicks in. The Music Hall equivalent of ‘kennel cough’ starts at the end of October, and works its way around the dressing room for the next month.

Both the DEB and I have had thrice recycled version of the “Music Hall Cold” since the beginning of November, and we are still hacking and sneezing as we progress to the last two performances this weekend.

I amazed myself during opening weekend, last weekend. Blurry-eyed and feverish, I rose from my bed for the 8:00 PM call. Somehow, sufficiently doped with cold medicine, I made it through the opening song. Coming off stage, I looked and felt like death. But I pushed through. By the interval, I was spent. “You should go home.” Our director Wendy, advised. “No way!” I said. I’d worked too hard, to just walk away from it now - especially not my solo number, “Adelaide’s Lament” – which is the second act in the second part of the show. “Okay,” she said. “After Adelaide, go home.”

I struggled into my nurse’s uniform and blonde wig, went on stage and gave Adelaide all I had. And, of course, it felt fantastic. I’m sure I sounded like I had a cold, but thankfully, that fits the lyrics of the song. The minute I came off stage, I had a massive coughing fit that nearly caused to retch. All the girls gathered round to pat my back, hold my hand and my hair.

“You need to go home!” my chum Chris, ordered. “I’ll do your line in Les Miz, for you.” When she said those words, something in my performer’s brain snapped to attention. It’s a kind of killer instinct that I used to train my acting students to develop. “No, thank you, I’m going to do it.” I said.

And I did. Immediately after, however, I surreptitiously lost myself in our onstage Victorian crowd, slipped off stage, and ran to the loo to be sick. I came back, and in eased myself back into place to re-join my section of the chorus, without anyone even noticing. My students would be so proud!

It’s a great way to flex ones artistic muscles, but I must say, it does seem that we utterly miss the Autumn altogether. It’s September, and then suddenly, it’s Christmas, with a blur of eating, sleeping and singing in between.

I had actually forgotten that Thanksgiving was this week! My BADA students reminded me in class on Wednesday.  That’s how lost/tired/ill I’ve been! But, it has not been a time with some real high points, too.

Last Wednesday, I attended the service to celebrate 400 years of the King James Bible at Westminster Abbey. When I read the dress code details on the invitation, urging all ladies to wear hats, I had very high hopes indeed, and I was not at all disappointed! Her Majesty the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh and the Prince of Wales were all in attendance!

The service was absolutely wonderful. A real Anglican/Episcopalian love fest! Both Archbishops present, with the Archbishop of York reading the Gospel, and the Address being delivered by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. * SIGH *

We held a smaller, but equally extraordinary celebration the following Sunday here at St. Peter’s with a Choral Evensong using text from the 1611 Book of Common Prayer. Heavenly.

Two more nights of Music Hall, and then, I get my life back. Now that really is something to be thankful for.

Girl Power

I was browsing on eBay UK late yesterday morning. What for, you may ask, Dear Reader? Some snazzy, Chanel sunglasses? A pair of mint condition Jimmy Choos? No, I was looking for a Buildwas alb.

Although it sounds like it might be either this season’s latest Scandinavian fashion accessory, or German low country mountain range, an alb is a liturgical vestment. From the Latin word for “white”, it is the long garment worn by clergy, ministers and lay servers in the church.

I’m in the market for one as the liturgical team of lay person servers at our little parish has grown, and we need an extra. Being a liturgiophile (person who loves liturgy), I volunteered to purchase a new one for myself, allowing the new team member to use the old one.

Could be tricky, as I am a petite, would I find one that would fit? A pleasant surprise -- to find major clerical outfitters, like Hayes and Finch of London, all have sections on their websites for “Ladies Garments”.

What an irony also, just as I finish purchasing a rather fetching pale cream alb from Hayes and Finch, to spot reports of the latest “women bishops” controversy in the Sunday paper. The headline: “Williams ‘humiliated’ as bishops deal is rejected.” (Sunday Times, 11 July 2010)

I admire the Archbishop of Canterbury immensely. I think he is a great man in a very difficult job. Moving the Church – any church – into the 21^st C is undoubtedly an enormous task, with considerable challenges.

And, unlike the Catholic Church that seems to approach change by simply denying its existence, the Church of England wrestles quite openly with change and the all challenges it brings.

As I understand it, the deal that Rowan wished to offer was one that would effectively allow opponents of the ordination of female bishops a sort of “opt out” cause, whereby they could bypass the authority of a woman bishop.

The result would essentially create a “church within a church,” with the real status of women bishops being essentially compromised.

Williams is feeling pressure from Anglo-Catholic opponents within the Church who are being openly – and rather naughtily—wooed by Pope Benedicte XVI and his strict, intolerant, Catholic wiles!

A word to the wise for the Archbishop; and perhaps this is just a woman’s take on things, but, as every girl knows, if you’re in a relationship with someone who is unwilling to compromise, who routinely threatens to leave you when things don’t go their way -- and adds salt to the wound by taunting you with prospects of forming a new attachment with a more amenable Italian -- this is not a relationship worth having!

If Rowan Williams were one of my girl chums (let’s call her Rowena), I’d invite her out for a coffee, sit her down over a steaming grande soy latte and dish out some tough love! “Listen, Ro, you have got to let this guy go! He is so not worth it, and you deserve better.”

Flippancies aside, I do believe there are some underlying truths here for this very serious situation. If the Anglo-Catholics want to move on to Rome, let them. As any person who has been through a bad marriage can tell you, sometimes, when something’s broken in a relationship, you can’t fix it.

Appeasing extreme views – in either direction – for the seek of appeasement, to take keep someone from leaving, never works. Church relationships, like any other, must be based on love, and love is all about working together and compromise.

The traditionalists’ stance is philosophical, and their philosophy is not going to change. So, let them go. Let them shake the dust from their feet, and move on.

I understand Rowan’s view that “we should all try and stay together”; and trust me (no disrespect intended) but the last thing I would want to support is a swelling of the Catholic ranks, but, I believe that if one is not happy where one is, than it is best to move on.

I think my local church provides a wonderful microcosm of this idea of compromise. Ironically, I would consider myself a firm traditionalist, though they have certainly lost me on this one. To be more accurate, I am a liturgical traditionalist. My father used to refer to me as a “devout bower and scraper”. It is a badge I wear proudly.

I recently had a rather crackling exchange with a visiting priest, when we landed quite accidently on the subject of liturgy and he said, “God does not need all the bells and whistles.” I paused, and responded quite firmly: “God doesn’t need them, but God certainly deserves them.”

So, yes, it is safe to say my traditionalist streak is firmly ensconced. As such (and I have mentioned this before) I loathe, loathe, loathe, loathe contemporary Christian music. Guitars, bongos, tambourines, drums, and heavens forfend, the insipid words of the trite, little song printed out on video screens for us all to read and follow along!! It gives me hives.

Did I mention I loathe this?

In my sweet, little, village parish, there a small, very English gesture toward this sort of music within our main Sunday service. There is one song in the service that is of the “happy-clappy” variety. (Thankfully, no tambourines or videos screens as of yet…)

Instinctively, at this point in the service, I sigh. I roll my eyes. I try to recall the names of the moons orbiting the planet Uranus, anything but participate in the proceedings.

Tiring of my anti-happy-clappy antics, and my routine whinging about “the happy-clappy moment” before, during and after each service, the ever-wise DEB, had a word with me. “Well, love,” he said. “Here’s what you can do, don’t go to that service, if you don’t like that music.”

How sensible!

It really made me think. There are a few members of our congregation that have actually made that decision, and only attend the completely music-less service at 8:00 AM. I very often serve at that service, and really quite enjoy it. But, I haven’t made the decision to vote with my feet altogether.

Also, I was recently elected to the Parish Council, and one Sunday, just as I was about to roll my eyes in disgust as the choir geared up for their “Aren’t We Modern?” number, I thought myself, “You’re a newly elected member of the Parish Council. You love this church. It’s just one song. Stop acting like an 8 year old!”

That told me.

And frankly, I think a general dose of this kind of medicine would not go amiss.

So – to the meat of the matter. Women leading the church. The traditionalist view on this is based on what they see as the Biblical precedent that: “Jesus did not have any women disciples.”

My response to this is, of course, both flippant and serious. (The flippant always comes first.)

Last week, I gave a Shakespeare lecture in Stratford-upon-Avon to a lovely group of university students from Chicago. One of them asked: “What was Shakespeare’s intention in writing King Lear?” After giving the bog-standard, scholarly, academic answer I am supposed to, I added, “…But you know, we don’t really know. How can we know? None of us were there.”

They all laughed, but they also got the point.

I think the same is true in this instance: none of us were there. And if we could be truly honest with ourselves, we’d admit that we can’t possibly know who all of Jesus’ friends, followers, disciples and eventual church leaders were.

But, Biblical interpretation aside, I think it is far more pragmatic and productive to look at the present. In other words, who are “Jesus’ friends” now?

I have always found it ironic (and infuriating) that Catholic leaders can never get their heads around women serving or leading the Church, when the simple facts are that there would be no Church, or indeed a very small one, without the involvement and dedication of women.

I don’t just mean in a procreative sense, I mean quite literally, across the board (and across the globe) women are the ones keeping the church wheels turning, Catholic, C of E, or otherwise.

Yesterday, I gazed around my village church. In terms of leadership and activity, there is a solid and indisputable female presence. We have two Church Wardens, a huge leadership role, and both of them are women.

In the bell-tower, 50% of the ringers are women. In the choir, 10 of the 14 choristers are women. We have two Readers, one man and one woman. Serving on the altar, our team of four (4) Chalice Bearers and Eucharistic Ministers is 100% female.

What would happen if we all walked out?

And of course, no surprise that the congregation is also largely female. (Typically, and dare I say traditionally, it is the female side of the familial equation who pushes everyone to church, gets everyone ready and there Sunday after Sunday!)

As I sat in my pew, I imagined what my church would look like, what it would be like without its significant female presence. A very different and empty place indeed.

Last Christmas, I had the pleasure – and for me it is a true pleasure – of serving on the high altar at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Our Reverend Cathy was the Celebrant, Reader Anne was 1^st assistant, and I was 2^nd. Three women gathered round the altar.

Moments like this are not lost on me. Of course, I am always fully focused on my job and duties, but I am also able to stand apart, and observe.

I cannot say fully what moments like this mean to me, both as a Christian and as a woman. It is so powerful and inspiring to watch Mother Cathy, and to hear the words of the Eurcharist being intoned in a feminine voice, a voice that could be my own. My eyes welled with tears as I watched Mother Cathy lifting and breaking the Body of Christ.

It is not lost on me that many lived and died so that a moment such as this could happen; I am also very aware that many lived and died to keep this moment from ever happening. But this moment did happen. And it is a privilege none of us takes lightly.

The moment of the woman bishop in the Church of England will also happen. Stand up for her, Rowan! You will not be standing alone.

Meeting me where I am

Last week, the Church of England announced that it would be offering a new religious service for those interested in being married by the Church. It is a sort of “two-for-one offer,” a combined wedding and baptism.

Basically, it is a standard wedding ceremony, with a baptism attached. Obviously, this service was created especially for couples that have had children before their marriage, and provides a blessing of those children, and incorporates them into this newly sanctified union.

Interesting.

I’m not quite sure what I make of this. My inner (and very conservative) Episcopal matron is utterly scandalized by the very thought of this new-fangled “buy one, get one free” approach to liturgy. However, the more moderate realist side of me can see the benefits and advantages.

One clear benefit that would appease both sides of my thinking is that fact that this new ‘add-on baptism’ might just alleviate a few of those “one off” baptisms that routinely happen during regular church services.

(Oh-oh. Here comes the cranky Episcopal matron…)

As a regular church-goer, I find it truly annoying, nay, irksome even, that I am often forced to sit through a lengthy baptism service, that has been inserted into my normal Sunday service, for the sake an anonymous child that I will never know, and his or her equally anonymous parents (and godparents) all of whom I have never seen before, nor will I ever see again!

And of course, in the midst of this service, we, the congregation are called upon to promise our care and support of this child and his/her family through their lives. Well, I for one take such promises seriously. And I cannot fulfill such a promise to individuals who disappear before the holy water has even dried...  

Baptisms, christenings, whatever one may call them, are serious business. Or should be. They should be more than just a family photo opportunity, or a chance to get your glad rags on and have a meal down the pub.

Likewise, the Church is more than just a “religious venue,” there just when you need it for a wedding or a christening.  Oh, dear, oh, dear. From the sound of this, I think I would probably make one hellishly dreadful vicar!

Mercy, grace and compassion. That is what Rowan, the Archbishop of Canterbury, is suggesting. He believes that it is the Church’s mission to “meet people where they are.” If a couple, after being together and making a family together for donkey’s years, have finally decided to “make it official,” the church should meet them where they are, and provide a sacrament that also meets their circumstances. Ultimately, this can be nothing but a good thing.

I had a very interesting conversation about all of this with the Vicar’s wife recently, when she came for tea last Friday.

Mrs. Vicar and I sat in the garden, had tea and some chocolate brownies I’d made especially. I really like Mrs. Vicar. She’s one cool lady. Loving, warm and gentle, but solid, sensible and down-to-earth. She is every bit what you’d expect an English vicar’s wife to be. 

Over tea and brownies, we discussed the new development’s pros and cons. My question is how the Church can be so open on one hand, to couples with kids, and not so in other circumstances, i.e., second marriages.

I have written previously about how the Church of England has, as I see it, a rather ad hoc,  ‘each parish/vicar as it/they will’ policy toward marrying couples wherein one or more of the partners has been married before.

In other words, some vicars will perform weddings for second-timers, some won’t. It’s just luck of the draw. Which can be a double-whammy, as there are additional rules that state that you can only have your wedding celebrated in the parish in which you live, have lived, or have had some previous familial association.  

So from the get go, you are starting out with a rather limited playing field. For example, there is a lovely, lovely little 19^th C. church in Wasperton, the village next to Barford. I had thought briefly of the D.E.B. and I having our wedding there, but I found out very quickly that my choices were St. Peter’s, here in Barford, or St. Peter’s, here in Barford.

So, we had the wedding at St. Peter’s, here in Barford. And I’m very glad we did. It was a perfect day and it all happened in exactly the right and perfect place. We were very lucky, in more than just the weather. Our Vicar is a gem. A real diamond. All I can say is, thank goodness he’s not a cranky, old Episcopalian battle-axe like me!

My tea-time conversation with Mrs. Vicar took an interesting turn. Before I knew it, I had confessed to some floundering faith I have been experiencing recently:

“Things have been going so well,” I found myself saying. “I’m happier than I have ever been in my life. I’m a bit worried that I may be too happy, and so I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t really trust God completely.”

(At this point, my internal ‘Southern Episcopal matron’ rose from her seat, swooned and fainted from shock…)

Mrs. Vicar beamed her cheeky, cheery smile at me. “It does feel that way sometimes, doesn’t it?” she said, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “But you must know, you can always trust God. It doesn’t mean that we can’t question or even get angry sometimes. But always trust.”

She then shared with me a recent story of a very stormy time in her life when both she and the Vicar were seriously, seriously ill. “Even in those darkest hours, I knew God was there.” She said.

Mrs. Vicar’s words gave me such an incredible sense of peace and grace. Maybe this was just another example of the importance of faith meeting people where they are.

 

Love is in the air…and so, apparently, is Spring!

Spring has sprung in Barford. The infamous washing-line in out and up in the garden, and has today, made its official laundry-drying debut for 2009! But, alas, this is Britain, so of course heavy snow and more winter cold has been forecast for next week. So, we must make merry, and do laundry while we may! I am actually sitting outside, with laptop and cup of tea, for the first time in I don’t even know how many months. People are shedding hats and scarves, and there is a general sense of giddiness in the air…

The DEB and I have a busy weekend ahead. We are attending a Wedding Fayre at The Glebe Hotel – finally, my first English Wedding Fayre!!! I’m so excited I can’t stand it! But, alongside the frivolity of flowers, favo(u)rs and shoes, we are also doing some serious contemplation. Allow me to explain…

As you may recall, several months ago, I was weeping into my tea about the fact that the Brits seem to take marriage less seriously as a concept than their American counterparts. And in many ways, I still believe that to be true. Period. (see posting: “Always Something There to Remind Me” - October 2008).

However. I do need to revise this sentiment just a bit. Marriage is a very, very serious business if one wants the blessing and approval of the Church of England. As a proud Episcopalian, at this stage in my life, there could be no other way forward for me than a church wedding. My first marriage was a civil ceremony, and I while I’m not blaming the type of ceremony for the failure of the relationship, I must say, I did not enter into it with the contemplative sincerity that the C of E is currently demanding.

First, our local vicar had to be “the first to know” as it were (although, I think I actually blogged about it just after the DEB proposed, so in essence the vicar was the second to know!) Then, we had our first meeting with the Parish Wedding Coordinator, Mrs. Macbeth. There were tons of forms we had to fill in and ton of things we had to remember, i.e., where we had each been baptized and/or christened. We discussed initial thoughts, plans and ideas about the service/ceremony, if we gained the vicar’s approval.

The burning question for us both was: Do we need “Permission to Marry” from the British Government to make this happen? Apparently—and I have asked this question at every juncture, and have been given the same answer—the answer is no, we don’t. It seems that the Church of England as an entity, shares a similar authority to the government, and has the power and right to sanction unions between individuals who are British citizens and non-British citizens. Interesting.

I think apart of the reason why or how, this is possible, is that, again, Marriage is taken very seriously by the C of E. As much as I adore Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and his dishy portrayal of Henry VIII in the American television series, “The Tudors,” I won’t waste space here bleating on about how ironic it is that the C of E has some (underscore some) very conservative views about marriage and re-marriage, given its own rather, how shall I put this delicately, complex history on the issue.

Suffice it to say, the D.E.B. and I have been very, very fortunate and blessed. As our union will be a “second time” for both of us, we were required to gain the permission and approval to marry within the C of E from our local vicar. Thankfully, our vicar is a kind, gentle and loving man, who takes a very merciful and compassionate view on the subject. “Marriage is meant to be for life, but sometimes, and it is regrettable, that is not always the case, for whatever reasons.” he said to us. What is hoped is that we can learn from these reasons/failings/mistakes and move forward and be better in the future, because of them.

Unfortunately, not all C of E (and maybe even some Episcopalians, too?) don’t see it this way, and take a more staunch (and I would say unyielding) approach that you get “one shot” at God blessing your union, the next time(s) you’re on you own.

Okay, maybe that’s a little unfair, the Church does provide an alternative. Instead of a full-blown religious wedding ceremony, the couple and their union–which has taken place outside the church—can come to church and have blessing. Call me simple, but this seems much of a muchness to me. How are those two things really different? Surely God’s blessing, is just, God’s blessing. But, what do I know?

And another thing! (I’m on a roll now.) I believe that God is a God of second chances (and for some, maybe even third, four and fifth chances, I don’t know!) I don’t mean to preach a sermon, but, look, life is just too short. If two people love each other, and are coming to the table with serious intentions, what’s the problem? We all make mistakes. Lighten up, C of E! I’d write Rowan (The Archbishop of Canterbury), but I think he has enough on his plate right now…

Speaking of serious intentions, The DEB and I had our official meeting with the vicar one evening in January at the Rectory. We had to share details of our past marriages: what was good about them, and what went wrong. We then had to talk about our relationship, what our hopes, fears, and expectations for the future are/were. Our vicar is awesome. And he has a great sense of humour! I think that helps, a lot.

Still, it can be quite nerve wrecking to think that your future—or at least the version of how you would like to see it played out—is in someone else’s hands. And I think that is what concerns me. The DEB and I gained our vicar’s permission to marry, but if we had had another vicar, we may not have been so lucky.

Okay, it helped that we are also active and regular churchgoers in the parish, and we hadn't just turned up wanting to use the church a “wedding venue.” As the vicar said to me: “It is clear to me that the Church is an active and important of your life, and of who you are as a person, how could I deny you the opportunity of marrying here?” What a gift. And a gift that neither of us takes lightly, because it could just as easily have gone the other way.

There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage. – Martin Luther

Two or three Sundays ago was: “Celebration of Marriage Sunday” at St. Peter’s.  It was a very interesting service wherein all the husbands and wives in the congregation re-affirmed their vows and commitments.  The DEB and I remained silent, of course, but we were very hopeful and happy that next year this time, we shall be joining in and doing the same.

The sermon was very thought-provoking and challenged us all to think deeply about this pivotal human relationship. Ultimately, the word to the wise was that Marriage is serious business. The wedding is the public celebration of a very real and very serious commitment. It is a gift from above.

While cooking Sunday lunch that day, I reflected upon my own failings in the past regarding marriage. I acknowledge that I lacked seriousness when I approached this institution in the past. In other words, it was all about “getting married” with very little thought to the concept of “being married,” which ain’t always easy.

For this reason I am glad that the DEB and I are required to attend Marriage Preparation classes. During these sessions, we, and other couples from our parishes, will be reflecting upon “Life after the Wedding.” A very worthy pursuit.