or, That's Rev Hands to You.
Let's start with a confession: I am a humongous sap.
Honestly, the sappiness knows no bounds. I should be stored in an Aunt Jemima bottle. It gets misty at home every time I watch It's a Wonderful Life or Singin' in the Rain.* Need a big grand gesture for a minuscule, made up special occasion like "32 Day Anniversary" or "3/4 Birthday"? I'm your man. Have a blank Hallmark card just begging for a lengthy sentimental passage? Hand me the pen. The bottom line is it often gets dusty at the Allhands' domicile.
*The most unlikely thing that sets off the sap? Those "every kiss begins with Kay" commercials. If you haven't seen them here is the basic set up: Dude finds some insanely sweet way to give his wife/girlfriend/lady companion an extremely expensive piece of jewelery, there is a big kiss and the Kay theme song plays. The one that reduces me to a whimpering mess: A deaf girl's boyfriend has learned sign language for her and then give her something sparkly. Kisses and eternal happiness ensues. I realize there are some major plot holes here (Wouldn't the guy likely already know sign language before asking this girl out? Otherwise that may be the worst first date ever.), but that is beside the point. All I know is must guys would be crying at the price tag; I am reaching for the tissues at the set up. I am an advertiser's wet dream.
I'm not sure where this particular trait comes from. I don't remember my mother ever dressing me in girl's clothing, nor were there any overdoses on romantic comedies, soap operas or the soulful sounds of Air Supply. I am going with genetic defect as the likely culprit. Whatever the case, it is what it is. There could be worse things-I'm not a habitual puppy kicker or a chronic nose picker, for example. Aside from numerous embarrassing moments* the sap is at least partially responsible for most unlikely part time job I ever had: Reverend.
*Number one on that list: Lots and lots of bad poetry. I mean volumes. You would think I spent ages 13 to 16 sitting in my room, writing poems, parting my hair down the middle and listening to Chicago 17. If anyone reading this was every a recipient of one of these epics of embarrassment, I ask that you destroy it for the sake of my ego. With fire. Really, I will pay you.
Before you click the tiny "x" of death in the upper right corner, let me stress this has nothing to do with any sort of religious conviction. There was not any kind of "calling" or Divine moment of intervention or clarity. I am not going to pelt you in the forehead with one of those tiny red new testaments*, I am not going to say a prayer for you or profess some concern about your immortal soul. The reasons for my ordination are complex and multifaceted: A friend asked me to.
* This is how old I am: I can remember in very early elementary school those little new testaments being given away. In public school. Let me repeat that: People were given away bibles in school. Can something be charming and terrifying at the same time? For some reason, I remember them being black, red, white or pink. I am skeptical this really happened. Like all of my pre-age 9 memories, there is a 64.3% chance they are paste/crayola/play dough induced hallucinations.
The reaction to this request was an emotional roller coaster. Step right up and lets walk through them, list style. You must be at least this tall to ride:
1) Flattered.
Honestly, I can't think of a more humbling experience. Maybe a request to be a godparent? The only thing that has surpassed it in my life is when a friend asked me to speak at her funeral. Contingent on, you know, my living longer and stuff. That seeming like a bigger deal may have something to do with me being a tad morbid. Regardless, I was a bit speechless after getting the request. Weddings still count as memorable days, correct? Essentially, it is one of the biggest non-child, non-birthday related days you have. Which leads me to....
2) Anxiety
There are basically two types of memorable weddings: "Ah, that was lovely, they make such a happy couple, I hope they go forth and multiply, where is the open bar?" Or, "Wow, that was a train wreck, I hope they can replace her tooth, I give them less than a year, I really hope there is an open bar." Guess which of those scenarios is the one people tend to remember the reverend ? There are a multitude of things that can go wrong when you are up there trying to get two people hitched, but I feel we can narrow it down to three biggies:
A-Performing the whole ceremony with your fly down.*
B-Repeatedly calling the bride by the wrong name.
C-Getting drunk at the reception and hitting on bridesmaids. Bridesmaidens? Bridespeople? You get the picture.
*When I was a kid, my parents and grandparents called this having "your barn door open." Ah, growing up rural.
I have heard stories of all of these actually happening. It's amazing how any one of these tend to color the view of the officiant. Despite that, I was fairly confident I could avoid the Big Three of Shame. So eventually anxiety gives way to...
3)Resignation.
I imagined this might entail having to attend some sort of class, or people putting hands on me, or a large check to your local church. I also had a phobia it would involve holy water, Kool Aid, and some sort of ceremony that included at least one costume change and a black light. This may or may not indicate I have seen way too many horror movies. With all of this in mind I sat down with my good friend Google to figure out what it took to marry people and braced for the worst.
The total time it took me to get ordained: 15 minutes. There were no seminary classes, no training session and not even a check required. Thanks to the Universal Life Church, all I had to do was list my name and sign some agreement that I believed in something. It could be death and taxes, the Easter Bunny or Bigfoot, just as long as I believed in something. I clicked submit and the next thing I know, I am an ordained reverend. The web site went on to tell me that my name would be "hand written" in their list of reverends. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
My thinking at this point is that the worst is over. I am an ordained reverend and I would get up in front of people and wing it. My plan was intro, joke, emotional story that would leave the crowd in tears, you may kiss the bride and head to the reception. What I didn't stop to think about was the fact that the bride may actually want some say in the ceremony. Who would have thunk it?
The brides in both weddings has a very specific plan for their big day, which involved a very specific performance by the reverend. In other words, I now had lines. When you wing it, it is impossible to screw up as long as you avoid the big three listed above. Now there was an actual script to follow which means the possibility of mistakes just increased by 100, right along with the bride punching me in the nose after the wedding. This in no small part helped move us along to the next stage...
4) Soaked
No, I am not referring to rain showers, water balloon fights or swimming pools. I am talking about good old fashioned pressure induced sweat. On top of that, add 90 degree temperatures and me in a suit and you have a recipe for a walking sauna. Or, as I like to call it, the best weight loss technique ever. My nerves increased as the the minutes ticked off the clock and we got close to wedding kick off. I decided to invite my friend Mr. Crown to the ceremony to ease my nerves. In fact, I invited him three or four times. However, the level of sweat I was going through kind of insured he didn't stick around long. The clock finally ran down to zero, leaving me standing there, note cards in hand and watching the blushing bride walk down the aisle.
5)Elation
I wish I could tell you I rose to the occasion and delivered a ceremony that is still talked about in hushed tones to this day. In the fiction version of the wedding I am sure my words brought tears to the most hardened male relative, caused aunts and grandmothers to swoon and led to the conception of babies that night. I can't imagine any of those things are true; however, I didn't exactly sink the event either.
What dawned on me about five seconds in is that no one really cared what I had to say, or if I said it correctly. As long as I avoided profanity, a seizure or racial slurs, everything would go off without a hitch. The thing I think people in the position of imagined importance, like referees, reverends or hosts in general, tend to forget is that absolutely no one is there to see them. The best thing you can do is keep a low profile and make sure things run as smoothly as possible. That became my motive. I stumbled through my prepared lines, nailing most, fumbling a few, and then just got out of the way. Doing so allowed me have an extremely unique and satisfying experience.
It is a wonderfully intimate experience being the reverend at a wedding. I felt extremely close to the family and was genuinely touched by any compliments or thanks for being there and doing the job. I found myself doing a lot of standing in the background and just watching the family and friends interact. No, no one was there to see me; however, none of it would have happened if I hadn't been there. That is a uniquely satisfying feeling.
I did two weddings and moved into reverend retirement. (I feel some pension or 401K should be included in this. I would settle for being allowed to collect a tithe at any public eatery I find myself in.) There are no plans to do another one, unless someone I care a great deal for asks me to. But based on the flattering yet humbling experience of those two events, I would call being a reverend the best part time job I ever had.
