From This Day Forward

I grew up in an ethnic neighborhood in Cleveland in the 1960s and 1970s. My grandparents on both sides were Slovak. We were raised on pierogies and polkas.

When I reached high school and started dating, my relatives had a lot of questions: "This girl you’re going to the movies with: Is she Catholic? Slovak? What’s her family’s last name? What does her father do for a living?"

She had to be Catholic, of course. Preferably Slovak. If not, some other nearby nationality. Anything less would get disapproving comments. Those questions may sound odd now, but they mattered back then. The Catholic Church had only recently concluded Vatican II, which tried to bridge centuries of animosity between churches. Accepting Protestants as equals was something new. And many of the immigrants in my neighborhood were trying to preserve the culture and traditions that they brought from Europe. They were afraid of losing their heritage in the new land.

For them, traditional marriage meant choosing someone from the same faith, the same ethnic background. People who spoke the same language, ate the same foods, followed the same customs.

With that as a backdrop, their questions were more understandable. Simply put, they were afraid. Terrified, actually. They feared that if marriage changed, their world would fall apart. If Catholics started readily marrying Protestants, those long-held theological differences would evaporate in the light of everyday love. If people from one ethnic background started marrying into others, new traditions would be created and the old ones would be discarded.

Who knows what will happen then?

That's why to so many people, my relationship wasn’t about finding someone who fit me — it was more about me finding someone who fit them.

It went way beyond my neighborhood, of course. Back then, black people were prevented from marrying white people in many states. A black person would be lynched for even dating a white person.

And it goes way beyond my lifetime, of course. Historians remind us that the idea of marrying for love is a rather recent evolution in humanity. For most of the time, marriage has been about many other things. For centuries, women were treated as a marriage barter so that powerful families could consolidate their influence or improve their finances. Royalty was prohibited from marrying commoners — can’t mix blood lines. Marriages were arranged, not chosen. And they were based upon someone else’s gain instead of the couple’s love.

For the first half of this country’s history, slaves weren’t allowed to marry legally. Their lives were dependent upon the whims of slave owners, who saw marriage as something reserved for people like themselves. Throughout human history, the approval to marry has routinely been used as a ball-and-chain to try to restrict and limit others. Often, it’s been more about promulgating a certain way of life instead of encouraging a couple to start a new life. "Religion" and "tradition" were often invoked as barriers to love.

I suppose you could pick any couple at any moment in time and find that someone objected to their relationship on some grounds. Perhaps you’ve experienced this yourself. The arguments over who should marry are as old as marriage itself.

But here’s one thing I’ve learned along the way: If someone really cares about you, they’re going to want to know whether this other person makes you laugh, helps you feel loved, brings out the best in you, and challenges you to grow. Does being with them bring you joy? Does your relationship bring you a deep experience of love? It does? Great! Congratulations! I am so happy for you! You are truly blessed.

Last summer, two of my friends got married at my church. Technically, it was a commitment ceremony because the state won’t yet permit weddings between gay people. These two compassionate women stood in front of their families and friends and pledged to care for each other as best they could. They spoke of how the other person completes them, makes them laugh, gives them hope, brings them joy, challenges them to grow, and instills a sense of the divine in their everyday life. They promised to try to love one another, as they are loved by God. I felt so happy for them and also so proud of them. And I couldn’t help but wonder: When it comes to marriage, will we ever reach a point where we can move — finally — from this day forward?

Joe Kay is a professional writer living in the Midwest. You can reach him through his blog at https://joekay617.wordpress.com/.

Image via Syda Productions/shutterstock.com