Me: The priest handed me a gold, ornamental
goblet with an opening the size of a trashcan lid. It was massive. It took two hands to hold it, and even then I
struggled with it in my grip. The goblet
was filled to the brim with dark, red wine; and with every breath, I was afraid
of spilling it.
My
eyes became almost as big as the opening on the goblet as the aroma of the rich
alcohol hit my nose. I am not a
drinker…at all. I stood staring down
into that red liquid, telling myself, “You can do this. It’s just a sip. You’ll be okay.” The priest was saying something in Greek in
his deep, melodic voice, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was trying to keep the panic from washing
over me.
Spousal Unit: The priest handed him a normal-sized gold
goblet. In fact, it was so ornamental
that it barely held any wine in it at all.
He held it with both hands, not because he had to, but because he was
being careful with such a holy artifact.
Honestly, it was a little overkill, but I grinned nevertheless, as he
realized that it was real wine in there.
He
never drinks alcohol. In fact, I don’t
remember having ever seen him drink the entire time we were together. The priest was explaining the sacrament of
holy communion and that this cup represented the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ
poured out for our sins. He instructed
that my soon-to-be husband was the head of the household, and as such would
need to lead the household in spiritual matters. Therefore, he would need to drink
three-fourths of the contents of the goblet, and I would drink the rest.
Me: After the priest finished speaking, he
motioned for my wife-to-be to translate for me.
I looked over at her, watching her rosy lips move, as she told me that I
was to drink from the cup. She might
have mentioned how much I was to drink, but I didn’t hear, so mesmerized as I
was by her beautiful lips. Then again,
she might have omitted that part for her own amusement. When she nodded at me, I raised the goblet to
my lips and took a sip. As I started to pull
the cup down, the priest raised one of his gnarled hands and tilted the base of
the cup up with one finger. I felt the
warm wine travel down my throat and into my empty stomach. My whole core felt like it was on fire, and
the heat spread outward, consuming all of me in its warmth.
I
was choking, trying to swallow as more and more of the red liquid poured down
my throat. Finally, the priest removed
his finger, and I was able to pull the cup down and gasp for air. My face felt like it was on fire, and I was
sure that there was a flush to my cheeks.
I looked down into the massive goblet and saw only a small amount of the
wine left. It sloshed gently back and
forth as I passed the goblet to my wife-to-be.
In one quick motion, she down what was left and handed the cup back to
the priest.
Spousal Unit: When the priest finished explaining the
sacrament, he nodded for me to translate for my husband-to-be. He was looking at me with the biggest eyes. I could tell that all of this was making him
uncomfortable. He’s not used to being
the center of attention for hundreds of people, all of their eyes watching his
every move. Not to mention that he had
no idea what was going on and couldn’t understand a word that the priest was
saying. I simply told him that we were
taking communion, and he needed to drink from the cup first.
I
nodded at him, and he started to drink.
When he started to pull the cup down after only a sip, the priest tipped
it back up so that he’d drink more. I
could see the flush spread across his cheeks almost instantly as the wine took
its affect on him. After a minute, the
priest let him stop, and my husband-to-be passed the goblet to me. He looked so cute, so vulnerable, with his
rosy cheeks. I took the goblet and drank
the small amount of wine that was left and then handed it back to the priest.
Me: The priest started to read from his positively massive
Bible, which was gilded with gold and ornamentation, then he raised out his
hand over us and said something else in Greek which I couldn’t understand, but
which I presumed was some sort of benediction.
At that moment, our best man and maid of honor stepped up behind us and
placed these white, flowered crowns on our heads. I could see out of the corner of my eye that
they were attached to each other by a single, white, satin ribbon.
Before
I could even get a translation or an idea of what was going on, the priest
grabbed my right hand and started tugging me around the altar. I felt my wife-to-be’s hand slide into my
other hand, as I tugged her along after me.
Around and around we went around that altar, as those standing closest
tossed handfuls of rice over us. Some
more enthusiastic guests were winding up like baseball pitchers and throwing
the rice at us as hard as they could.
Others, like my father, didn’t understand how this worked and simply
threw the whole bag at us at once.
As I
tried to ward off the flying rice, which was difficult since both of my hands
were occupied, I suddenly realized why the priest had such a massive Bible and
why he hadn’t put it down before grabbing my hand. He was holding it up in front of his face and
literally using it as a shield. Tiny
grains of rice were ricocheting off the gold and ornamentation and flying in a
myriad of directions, as the priest hunkered down safely behind it.
I
have to say that the dizzying effect of walking in circles around the altar was
not helping my inebriated state. The
guest’s faces were a blur of color, swirling around me, going faster and
faster. Their laughter and voices
blending together into an indistinguishable cacophony of sound. All of it was making my head spin, so I
closed my eyes until the priest let go of my hand.
Spousal Unit: The priest read a verse from the Bible about
two flesh becoming one, and then he explained that we would now be taking our first
steps together as husband and wife. Our
best man and maid of honor placed the wedding crowns on our heads and
straightened out the ribbon that attached them together. Suddenly, I saw my husband-to-be getting
pulled away from me, so I scurried after him and grabbed his hand. The priest was leading him around the altar.
People
started throwing rice at us, which is a custom that signifies blessings
bestowed upon the happy couple. The more
rice that gets stuck in your hair and in your clothing, the more blessings
you’ll have in your marriage. When I
later changed from my wedding dress to my reception dress, I had over two kilos
(about 4.5 pounds) of rice pour out onto the floor of my parent’s house. It was everywhere. Down my dress, in my underwear, and stuck in the
curls of my hair. I was still picking it
out days later.
Me: At this point, several other priests standing
in the back started to chant in a melodic harmony of their three voices. Someone took the crowns off of our heads, but
I continued to hold onto my wife-to-be’s hand.
When the chanting stopped, the priest said something else I couldn’t
understand in Greek, and motioned toward the door. My wife turned and pulled me down the aisle
toward the exit.
Just
going with the flow at this point, I guessed we were through. We were officially married. As we walked down the aisle toward the
entrance of the church, I said to my wife, “Whatever you do, don’t let me go.” “Why?” she asked through her gritted teeth,
keeping the smile plastered on her face.
“Because I think the priest got me drunk,” I responded leaning into her
as we walked.
My
wife looked over at my dopey eyes and goofy smile and said, “Just hang on,
we’re almost outside. And whatever you
do, don’t take me down with you.” As the
doors opened, the cool, crisp November air washed into the church and blew
across my flushed cheeks. Almost
instantly, I felt my strength and senses returning. I could feel my eyesight and my head starting
to clear, and I stood a little more upright.
Spousal Unit: After our journey around the altar, the priest
introduced us to the audience as husband and wife and motioned for us to make
our way out of the church. My husband
and I were still holding hands, so I gently tugged him toward the door. He seemed to be swaying a little bit as he
walked, so I looked over at him with concern.
His
cheeks were bright red, his eyes seemed to be defocused, and he had this happy
grin on his face. I asked him if he was
all right, and he slurred, “I think I’m drunk!”
Luckily, we were close to the exit, and I hoped that the cold air would
help sober him up a little. One thought
kept running through my mind, “Do not fall.
Do not fall.”
