There are things you hear at every Christian wedding: the two shall become one flesh; what God has joined let no man put asunder; Christ will come for his bride.
The coming of Christ for the bride--this is a cosmic wonder. See him, the groom, waiting for the woman in white, composed of all of us, saints and sinners alike. See the witnesses, the stars and moon, the sister planets, the grasses of the field standing at attention. "Here it comes," they whisper, "the end of all that groaning." Hear the scriptures as they lead the ceremony, the vows, the pronouncement.
He leans in for the hot-mouthed kiss. We receive it. (Isn't it passion that purifies?)
There is a delicate oneness, the bride and the Christ becoming one in that apocalyptic moment. And this is the moment you understand--this is why Christ left his father in the first place; isn't it? Didn't he come to make a way for our cleaving, the oneness that is the fulfillment of all things? Didn't he try to tell us this the first time? And there, in that delicate understanding, he spins us. There, we all dance.
The great Christ leans in and whispers something saved for us from the beginning of all time, then releases us to his Father, our Father--hallowed be his name. He takes our hand.
There is the full-throated laughter we know, though we've never heard it. It's the laughter that comes only at the end of one life and the beginning of another. It's the joy of perfection throwing its head back with unbridled joy. Love has woken us from the long and dark winter of longing.
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