Wedding Memories – Part 1 (Wine)

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.”