And the Bride Wore...

Long Johns...

but they were white silk long johns, so that counts, right?

Friends,

On Friday (January 12th at 4:30), Jim and I were married in a very small service on the beach of McLain State Park, on Lake Superior, on the beautiful and snowy Keweenaw Peninsula in Michigan. (All information I would have mentioned in the chat tonight, but everyone left early...ahem!).

We're still planning to have a big wedding reception either this summer or next with all of our friends and family (we'll let you know ASAP if it's going to be this summer), but we both wanted something simple for the actual service. The only thing that would've made it better is if everyone we love (present company especially) could've been there...

I'll send pictures along in a bit, but here's the ceremony Jim wrote for us (and I edited only the slightest and most insignificant bit). We were both inspired by the Harpers article "Til Derrida Do Us Part" (and there's a part in there taken from the Harpers' piece), but Derrida isn't our thing...rhetoric is. So I give you our wedding ceremony: a rhetorical analysis of a wedding written by my beautiful and genius husband.

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MOLLY: Friends, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Lori and Jim. To do so, we must perform these vows in an act of ceremony.

But what are these things: to wed, to marry, to take wedding vows? In the countless ceremonies that preceded this one, couples have come together in the presence of the people, the symbols, the ideologies, and the deities that mean the most to them. Through the exchange of solemn words—through certain speech acts—they have moved together into marriage. Through the performance of physical acts—jumping over a broomstick, smashing a glass, exchanging rings—they have publicly signified and initiated their marriages.

Such ceremonies, most typically, are performed in the presence of a gathering of friends and family, such as today. In the parlance of rhetoric—the ignoble profession to which both Lori and Jim belong—we might be tempted to call such a gathering of people “an audience.” In fact, we might be tempted to call the whole marriage ceremony more broadly a “rhetorical situation.”

The point of this ceremony is, after all, persuasive… at the end, it must convince all interested parties—friends, family, the State of Michigan, Houghton County Clerk Mary Shoos, Oakland University’s Human Resources Department, perhaps even Lori and Jim themselves—that they willingly married on this date.

Those are the audiences for the marriage, of course. Looking at the rhetorical triangle, it’s clear that there are other purposes, rhetors, and contexts for the persuasive act. I, of course, am the apparent rhetor at this moment—I’m the one talking. But in this rhetorical situation, the ones truly speaking—the real rhetors—are Lori and Jim. And this isn’t just because they wrote the words I’m saying now. Rather, by choosing to engage in the persuasive act of this ceremony, they are publicly professing their life-long and abiding love for one another. That is their purpose.

It’s important to note that the specialness of this occasion is not automatic, and the solemnity of this ceremony is a hard-earned rhetorical effect. A number of important ethos appeals are occurring right now in the persuasive act of this ceremony.

For instance, as celebrant of this wedding, I play an important role in building the solemn ethos of this occasion. By way of authority, of course: I am a fully ordained minister in the Universal Life Church, and have been so for over a week now. My ordination certificate (which is suitable for framing) is in the mail as we speak. I have all legal authority to make this marriage document binding, which is the “power vested in me” that I’ll refer to again later.

But there is another, more essential, component to the concept of ethos than just authority, and that’s character. I am here today because of my ethical connection to Lori and Jim, who have asked me as their friend to preside over their marriage. To them, the specialness of my service is not derived from my authority as a minister—please call me Reverend, by the way—but is rather derived from my character and connection to them as a friend.

As an audience of friends, you too play an important role in building the solemn ethos of this occasion. Not only does your presence today provide the legal authority for the act of witnessing, but by constituting an audience you create the rhetorical exigency for this ceremony. Ultimately, without you we’d just be talking to ourselves.

Beyond all that, however, your presence today is special not because of your legal status as witnesses or your rhetorical function as audience, but because of the special connections you have to Lori and Jim’s lives. They are thankful for, and honored by, your presence today. They are also thankful for the love and support of those who are with us today in spirit only.

Finally, the solemn ethos of this occasion is maintained by the authority of law through this marriage contract. Not only does this document bear with it physically the ethos appeals of official seals and stamps, but it bears with it some 1,400 automatic rights and privileges under law.

And at this point, I need to add that Lori and Jim are damn pissed that, currently in the U.S., same-sex marriage is inadmissible or prohibited in 49 states, while six states and the District of Columbia have separate—but decidedly unequal—“civil unions.” The 1,400 rights entitled to Lori and Jim automatically under the law, they feel, should be available to anyone and everyone wishing to marry.

But we should get back to the ceremony at hand.

Marriage, of course, is not solely a legal covenant, and its ethos does not ultimately derive from the power of the law or of the state. Rather, the ethos of this marriage derives from Lori and Jim’s love for one another. In a persuasive act that lies beyond the purview of the law, or the state, or myself, or anyone present, these two have found within one another a wellspring of meaning and happiness. We gather together today in celebration of this.

With the ceremony at hand sufficiently analyzed rhetorically, and with an important political position duly proffered, we move on to the performative elements of the ceremony—in this case the vows and the exchange of rings.

Now, I invoke the noble ethos of tradition by uttering the commonplace, “Do you, Lori, take Jim to be your wedded husband?”

LORI: “I do.”

MOLLY: “And do you, Jim, take Lori to be your wedded wife?”

JIM: “I do.”

MOLLY: You may now exchange rings.

By the power vested in me, I now declare you wife and husband. You may now kiss.

And now we sign the marriage contract, transubstantiating it in a legal sense from a marriage license into a marriage certificate.

Go forth and argue persuasively.
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Love ya'll!