“Shall we go?” asked my wife in a sort of hushed tone.
I considered the question of attending a wedding in a Hindu temple. It seemed to me that, like the hard-suffering Celtic evangelist in the movie, Erik the Viking, a true believer could wander through Asgärd itself without prejudice. “Well, I suppose we can,” I reasoned, “As long as we abstain from sexual immorality and the meat of strangled animals and from blood.”
“I promise!” said my wife.
The temple in Itasca is a grand affair with far too little parking. Streamers of flowers lay on top of what I took to be the nuptial BMW, and stone elephants flank the staircase. We took off our shoes—not because we considered it holy ground, but because we figured others there might. I did see an eyebrow or two rise when I took my little daughter with me into the men’s shoe-shucking chamber. Oops.
The layout of the sanctuary reminded me powerfully of the Old Testament descriptions of the Jerusalem temples. There is an outer court divided into a section each for men and women. I thought of Paul’s admonitions in Corinthians as I watched the constant hubbub on the women’s side. It seemed unnecessarily energetic, even considering that they had all the kids with them. The men on their side were more restrained, though hardly more attentive, engaging in quiet conversations and meetings through most of the service. We didn’t stay that long, but I suspect that aside from reading scripture, there is no expository teaching time. The point of the whole affair seems limited simply to being present for rituals.
Up front is an inner court, populated exclusively by priests and their assistants. They washed their hands much as OT priests would before officiating. They offered grain and ghee (the fat of animals) sacrifices in the fire on the altar. And then they sent out ushers to collect an offering. I peered into the basket, curious. Across religions, it seems, the denominations remain the same.
An aisle winds around all of these courts. Throughout the service, people traveled along it past a pantheon to arrive at the front, where there is a mural of the Creator, Ganesha (the elephant-like remover of obstacles and son of the Creator), and peering from behind Ganesha like an evil shadow, the Destroyer. “You old deceiver!” I thought, “Tricking people to reverence you like some sort of real god!” The left portion of the aisle passes the windows of the room, a few of which contain bullet holes. I guess they have been put there as a reminder, “Hindus not welcome here!”
After more than a quarter hour, we finally realized that the wedding was in some other, remote part of the temple and beat a hasty exit. We arrived to find that things were just getting underway.
Indian weddings are much more of a civil affair/party than are Christian weddings. Everyone was just kind of sitting/milling around while the bridal party went through their paces. Thankfully, there was a bulletin available in the corner in order to allow clueless Baptists to follow what was going on. Again, I was struck by the similarities/differences with the Christian rites.
“Marriage is a sacred union,” started the explanation, “not only between two individuals but also between two spirits.” Right off the bat, there is an understanding of the spiritual dimension of “becoming one flesh.”
When the groom arrives, the bride’s family must be waiting to welcome him, like the virgins in Jesus’ parable. The mother of the bride then performs a ward to peel off any evil spirits that may have followed the groom to spoil the marriage. Then the bride’s family presents him with a symbol of material comforts. The groom breaks it to show that he is getting married solely out of love for the bride.
Then the bride is brought forth in a palanquin covered with swastikas[1], white doves, and other symbols of blessing. She’s seated behind a white curtain, “a symbol of traditional barriers between an unmarried man and woman,” though, I’m sure it is of as little contemporary significance as a white dress.
After an exchange of garlands, the couple literally tie a knot between their clothes and make vows “to remember the Divine, to look upon others with sympathy, love and compassion; to be strong and righteous and to show goodwill, respect and affection to each other’s family.” I was struck by the outward focus of this set of vows (the promises to one another come later) and think that it would be a great addition to the Christian counterpart.
At this point the new couple circle the sacred fire on the central altar, in which incense, grain, and fat offerings are made. The Divine is thus invoked as principal witness to the union. Each circle the couple makes represents one of the goals of human existence. Interestingly enough, the groom leads all circles except the last—liberation from death (the Hindu equivalent of Salvation). My bulletin hazarded an interpretation of this custom as showing that each spouse remains responsible for his or her own spiritual growth, but I remain skeptical!
Tokens of the union are exchanged—in this case a necklace instead of rings—and the groom marks the bride’s head with red powder. The powder is a symbol of his blood, and placing her under it signifies both his extension of his self-protection to her and his willingness to sacrifice himself for her. To me, it brought to mind the Biblical illustration of Christ as groom to the Church, for whose sake he died and rose again, and also the various rites in the Bible where spots of blood are place at certain locations on the body. Could it be that contemporary Hindu wedding rites are outwardly closer to the ancient ones than our own?
The exchange is followed by the couple making seven steps around the fire, interpreted as promises to bless one another in different ways. Blessings are also sought from their gods, parents, relatives, and (for the bride) other married women. Finally, the new wife leaves a blessing behind for her family as she goes off to join the groom’s family.
In all, the two Hindu ceremonies gave me a surprising amount of insight into various customs and illustrations given in the Bible. They gave me a new appreciation for the universality of God’s call to all peoples. Best of all, I didn’t have to eat any blood in the process!
©2007 M Richter
[1] Funny moment when friends with us asked us, “Why the Nazi imagery?” I had to explain how Hitler stole the ancient symbol and reversed it.