A Fresh Perspective

The best wedding story I have ever heard comes from Robert Fulghum in his book, It was on fire when I lay down on it. It was a wedding he officiated that was produced on an epic scale by the Mother of the Bride, who Fulghum simply designates, the MOB. There was an eighteen-piece brass ensemble and gift registries spreading across most of the continental United States—with 24 bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower-petal-throwers, and ring bearers.   Fulghum says, "Looking back, it seems now that the rehearsal and dinner on the evening before the great event were not unlike what took place in Napoleon's camp the night before Waterloo. Nothing had been left to chance. Nothing could prevent a victory on the coming day. Nobody would EVER forget this wedding." The great day came. The plans were all working --until the climactic moment of the processional. Fulghum writes:    “Ah, the bride. She had been dressed for hours if not days. No adrenaline was left in her body. Left alone ...

In Jean Vanier’s wonderful book, Becoming Human , he quotes the African-American writer Patricia Raybon about how the oppression she experienced in the United States had taught her to hate white people. She writes:  “I hated them because they have lynched and lied and jailed and poisoned and neglected and discarded and excluded and exploited countless cultures and communities with such blatant intent or indifference as to humanly defy belief or understanding.” But then she goes on to talk about how she came to recognize that her hatred, no matter how justified, was eating away her identity and self-respect. It blinded her to the gestures of hospitality and friendship a white girl in high school offered her. She realized that instead of waiting for whites to repent of the atrocities they had inflicted on blacks and ask forgiveness, she needed to ask forgiveness for her own hatred, for her inability to see a white person as a person and not just as part of a race of oppres...