Same-sex Marriage

On this, the third day of pesach, I have been thinking back to the seders I have attended, all of them so different from the Easter dinners of my youth.  I was startled the first time by the discussions and friendly disputations that swept the gathering, expecting instead the comfortable reiteration of the Biblical detail that was the occasion for the celebration.  Christians tend to recite articles of faith, Jews question the nature of that faith.  It was a revelation to me, that intense discussion and argumentation, and I will never forget it.  Sentimental that I am, I last year bought the Foer-Englander Haggadah just to set out on our coffee table, as though that would somehow be proxy for a seder.  I imagine that the subject of gay marriage must be prominent discussion topic this year whether for or against; it is such a startling reshaping of human relationships.  I remember several years ago when Richard and I were at B.J.'s buying the stuff we were going to make into refreshments for our reception, the check-out clerk, a jolly, tubby woman with a cross around her neck, remarked on the quantity of our purchases. When we told her our wedding plans, she blinked, took in a deep breath, almost visibly went through a kind of transformation, then offered a smile that turned from timid to strong, at the same time saying:  "Well, God bless you."  I look at the pictures of all the couples arm in arm, holding hands, camping out before the Supreme Court in Washington, and think back to my own timidity in demonstrating public affection or even connection with Richard.  I hate myself for allowing the conditioning of my youth to govern my present behavior.  It took me a long time to be able to refer to Richard as "my husband," and when we winter in Florida, a place not known for its liberal sympathies, I always expect some backlash.  None has never been evident, so it's just my paranoia at work again. Initially we decided to get married to obtain financial rights available only to married couples, but the momentum of the occasion carried us to renting a beautiful church, adorning it with flowers, buying cases of champagne, making mountains of hors d' oeuvres and inviting my daughters' minister to officiate. The pastor, in turn, provided a Christian service (including as a kind of equivalent scripture reading the majestic words of the Massachusetts Superior Court ruling on same sex marriage) that infused the occasion with so much genuine love, commitment, and transcendence--I know it sounds corny, but it's all true--that both of us left the church feeling somehow irrevocably changed, and the one hundred fifty guests, who gave us a standing ovation,  as we were presented to them "newly married," were all in tears.  The odd thing, the important thing, was that so many old friends of mine who were bewildered, maybe embarrassed, maybe a little offended, when thirty years earlier at the time of my divorce I set up as a single gay male, subsequently acquiring Richard as a "partner," were transformed at this public, ritual celebration of my sexual orientation and my affections.  Same-sex marriage is so necessary for social cohesion that I cannot imagine anyone resisting the notion.  The idea that two men or two women in a marital union is going to shake the foundations of the institution of marriage in western civilization, considering their puny numbers, considering the damage already inflicted on it by the high rate of divorce and the ubiquity of unwed mothers, not to mention the refreshing sight of so many same-sex couples struggling to get married, is somehow laughable.  I often fantasize a good will gesture on my part of throwing my bridal bouquet from the church porch to Fred Phelps as he stands out there picketing.