This summer, I attended
my first French wedding. In many ways it closely resembled what I would
consider a typical American service: big white dress for the bride, ceremony at
the church, pictures that seemed to take way too long…
There was one major
difference, however. Unlike the U.S., a wedding held in France outside of the
town hall (our equivalent of a court- house) is not considered valid. Every
couple must first proceed to the town hall to be married by a state-appointed
officiant, and then can have a religious ceremony if they choose.
For this particular
wedding, the bride was from a small town where the officiant had known her and
her family since she was little. Still, there was a slight ‘assembly line’ feel
to the wedding, since we had to wait for the 3:00 wedding to leave the town
hall, and after, had to make room for the 5:00 wedding.
All huddled into the
small ‘wedding room’ (standing room only for most wedding guests), we listened
to what appeared to me as a strange mix of administration and heartfelt speeches.
The very first step in the ceremony was for the officiant to ask the bride and
groom if they agreed to the marriage contract. In other words, they both said ‘I
do’ within the first five minutes of the ceremony. Then the officiant proceeded
to read the entire marriage law to them (so they would know what they were
consenting to is how a French person explained it to me). I suppose it makes
sense to begin with this point, but there was no more suspense! For me it felt
like we were starting from the end of the ceremony and working backwards. The
rest of the ceremony included some speeches and the signing of the wedding
registry.
On a somewhat but not
entirely unrelated note, on a recent trip to Paris I made a stop at the
Panthéon. The Panthéon is a famous building in the Latin quarter. Originally
built as a church, it now is a sort of strange mix of many different sights to
visit: lots of graves of famous French men and women (writers like Victor Hugo
and Emile Zola, World War II resistant fighters like Jean Moulin, etc.), huge
wall murals dedicated to Saint Geneviève, and a copy of a Foucault pendulum.
Why is this so weird? France still wants to honor its famous and accomplished
predecessors, but essentially couldn’t bury these people in a church because of
the separation of church and state (la laïcité is the official term). So, it
took an old church and relabeled it a secular mausoleum.
For me, the symbol of
the Panthéon is linked to the wedding I attended. There are many examples of
how the separation of church and state play out in daily life, but I think this
really illustrates how it affects both the very public (honoring great people
from French history) to the private (a wedding).
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