Love project

One day, on my way to work, I saw a couple on the sidewalk in front of a church, waving their hands. The man wore a barong and the woman a bride’s white gown. Clearly, they just had their wedding.  The bride jiggled a bunch of roses towards the street to alert the driver of whatever taxicab might come to their presence.

I myself was in a taxicab, and the driver politely signalled to them that he already had a passenger, although I would gladly have stepped down and yielded the ride to them because, in my judgment, theirs was an emergency that trumps any other situation, however grave or potentially dangerous. For what would the world be but for the lovers?

Mine was a sad heart when we passed them by. Immediately, my mind went to work, cranking out questions. Who were they? How did they meet?  Other than their being newly married and in frantic need of a transport, the only thing clear about them was their humble condition. They were married on a week day, together with a group (I could see other couples like them surfacing to the entrance of the church). They were probably just wage earners—perhaps the woman was a seamstress and the man a dockworker.

I knew that, despite their modest means, a reception awaited the couple, to which they were on their way, as were their guests, who at that very moment might likewise be looking for a ride (although I venture to say that, just to make sure, most of them skipped the ceremony and went straight to the venue, most certainly the bride’s home). Because by custom, a young man’s preparations for the future consist of raising a pig, which should not be expensive, taking into account the animal’s propensity to forage and feed on leftovers, there is always a sow to butcher for his wedding. To which his relatives from the backcountry might add a goat or two and a number of free-ranging chickens.

I have to admit that, in our culture, speed marks the guests’ attendance at a wedding party, which speaks more of the folk’s love of food than of civility. This quickness stands in contrast to the lethargic response of the guests to the king’s invitation to the wedding feast of his son in Jesus’ parable, as narrated by Matthew. They dishonored the call of the king, some ignoring it altogether, some excusing themselves by going to their farm or to their business. The rest manhandled and even killed the hapless servants who were sent to invite them. Of course, the king punished the murderers. And, because the feast was ready, he told his servants, “Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.”

Jesus said that the wedding banquet is the kingdom of heaven. To my mind, the people who ignore the invitation are those who have lost a “taste for God,” as Henri de Lubac puts it. Of the feast, they no longer wish to partake, having lost their faith in God, who is the Host of, and is Himself the banquet.

For me, that feast is the feast of Truth and of Love.  In this regard, I recall the words of Pope Benedict XVI, “If the truth were a mere mathematical formula, in some sense it would impose itself by its own power. But if Truth is Love, it calls for faith, for the ‘yes’ of our hearts.”?

The couple I saw one morning years ago, who had just said yes to each other, and together a big Yes to God, were rushing to a feast they deserved, a celebration of love. To that banquet, one must rush, wave at taxicabs, jiggle a handkerchief or a rose, or whistle at people who can give one a ride. Because love and heaven are a serious business. Because in effect every wedding banquet carries the sign, “God’s project, do not delay.”