Why was I apprehensive? (Aside from the obvious reasons like we're two men getting married in a predominantly Catholic country and this guy pretty much has the authority to refuse to marry us just because he doesn't want to.) I've done this before. The last time I got married circumstances were quite different. And yet that time too, there was a meeting with the official beforehand.
When the ex-wife and I got married back in those hazy youthful days clouded by societal compulsion we met with the minister. He officiated at a small-town Kentucky church and went by the title Brother Dan. Or at least I think it was Dan. Anyway it was Brother and some normal name like Bill or George or Dan. He was something of a last resort as we had left a few important details of the wedding to the last minute.
That meeting was a bit scary. There were difficult essay-type questions like: What are your expectations of the duties of your future wife? and What precautions will you take so as not to bring children into this marriage until you've both had time to navigate the challenges and difficulties of married life?
And then there was the biggest scariest question of all: Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior? I had an easy dodge for that question. I was baptized and confirmed in my parents' church back home in Georgia. (This was before I did enough thinking to realize I didn't agree with all the hypocrisy and bigotry inherent in the church.) So Brother Tom understood me to be a confirmed member of the flock and no problem. But when the same question was posed to my then-fiance the answer was a little trickier. You see, she has never been so foolish as to be taken in by the church's tricks. And she's WAY too honest a person to just lie about it so we could avoid a confrontation. No, she told Brother Ted, she'd never really been to church other than as a child when her grandparents took her on sundays to fill in her coloring books on the pew beside them.
I could tell by Brother Bill's expression he wasn't too pleased with this answer. He pressed her further. Wouldn't she feel more comfortable knowing that her soul could avoid eternal damnation by simply accepting Jesus Christ as her personal lord and saviour. He could do it that day. All they'd really have to do was to say a prayer asking Jesus into her heart. It wouldn't take a moment.
No, she wouldn't have any of it. She's not exactly an atheist, but she's sure as hell not going to lie and say she believes the church's take on Jesus. Not even as an expedient to making sure Brother Tom will marry us. She pretty much told him point blank she wouldn't say his prayer because she won't lie. Brother Jeb meanwhile was developing a stress tick in the muscles of his forehead. He would have really liked to refuse to marry us. But thank goodness the ex-wife's sister was one of his faithful church members. He eventually relented. But he expressed his strong reluctance and admonished her to think about the precarious condition of her hell-bound soul.
So like I said ladies and gentlemen and the rest of you, I was just a wee bit petrified of reliving that historical pre-wedding interview.
But (thank Brother Bob's Jesus) this experience was completely different. First, he greeted us warmly, confirming our names as he shook our hands. He is a man probably in his seventies with uncontrolled wisps of white hair and a paternal smile. Then he took us into the chambers where the wedding ceremony will be performed. It's a wood-paneled room with a big desk at the front and benches in the back much like you might find in the courthouse of any small town. "You sit there," he indicated two thick chairs in front of the desk. "But not right now, on the day. Some people are so eager they jump right in when I show them," he joked. (I'm paraphrasing as my Spanish is fairly imperfect.)
Then he took us to his office. He gave our documents a cursory glance and then described to us the options we could include in our ceremony. He showed us pictures of other weddings he had performed. "You can bring in flowers. You can have pictures made. You can even hire a musician. Will you be using rings?"
We told he we would.
"That's fine, that's fine. Flowers, music, rings are all fine, but the important thing, the thing we can't do it without, is the two of you." All those concerns I had about being gay, being foreign, or being otherwise rejected melted in his genuine friendliness. "And two witnesses with their passports," he added with a smile.
We confirmed our details on the paperwork and signed a document confirming our appointment for the wedding. He bid us a kind farewell, adding the Spanish equivalent of "A pleasure to have met you."
Same-sex marriage in Spain (unlike many of the unions legalized throughout the civilized world) is the exact same thing as heterosexual marriage. You get the exact same "family book" (the official marriage document) as the straights. The benefits and responsibilities are exactly the same here. I went into this meeting today with all kinds of trepidation. I expected reluctance. I expected disapproval. Instead the judge treated us no differently than he would any couple. Why can't it be like that everywhere?
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