A Road to Emmaeus

In the past few weeks I have rolled through the rural hills of Virginia and the strolled along the polished boulevards of Paris. I have departed and returned to the streets of Tana, where I found myself a few nights ago at a hilltop fete full of European expats. It was at this party that I saw the departure of old friends from the island (if by “old” you can describe someone I’ve known for less than three months) and seized on the opportunity to make new ones. It is the first week of August and I am inching towards the halfway point of my mission, even as the work in the office ramps up in scope and complexity.

Leaving Madagascar, if only temporarily, provided a much-needed refreshment. I returned to Virginia in mid-July to attend the wedding of my dear friends Ian and Denise. I’ve known them both for a little over two years, about the same amount of time that they’ve known each other. The setting was deep in wine country, about an hour and a half west of Arlington, where verdant fields and forests extend to the horizon and the landscape is dotted by barns and rustic country mansions. The couple had planned an event with the aesthetical taste of a Lumineers music video, complete with a two-story barn, crate and barrel embellishments, and lightbulbs strung along the rafters. Knowing Ian and Denise, this was the perfect folksy setup to herald their new union. Of all of the weddings that I have attended in my life, it was this one that I had anticipated the most, and I had therefore resolved to do everything in my power to cross the oceans and make it back in time. Added to this was the fact that Ian had chosen me as one of his groomsman, an honor that I had every intention of fulfilling.

The ceremony itself was sweet and poignant and heartfelt – all of the things that you expect a wedding to be. As the bridge and groom read their vows to each other in the presence of friends and family, I thought about how these two people had been complete strangers only a little over two years ago, and how their swift connection had progressed to a love deep enough to produce a vow of lifelong commitment. The mystery of this kind of bond is something that continues to fascinate me; all the more in this instance, as I was a firsthand witness to the development of this relationship. The love between these two grew within the context of a community of people who supported and counseled them through the difficult times. I think this is the ideal genesis of romantic love; something that takes root in an environment where mutual friends can offer wise counsel and correction when necessary. Watching Ian and Denise begin the journey of marriage was every bit as joyous as I had thought it would be, and it was a gift to be a witness to it, standing beside them in the shade of a pine grove on that hot July afternoon.

I am under no illusion that marriage is the definitive source of happiness, but I do believe that at least for some people being permanently tethered to another can enhance one’s ability to experience joy. I love attending weddings for this reason, even as I remain uncertain as to whether or not I will one day have the privilege of seeing my bride walk down the aisle. I also think it takes tremendous courage to make that kind of commitment, and I respect those who have enough faith in themselves and in their partner to permanently and dramatically cast aside their independence. After living in Madagascar for three months, I am also struck by the voluntary nature of marriage in Western society; you can be married if you wish, but the option of not being married is also there. Never marrying is still a rarity in American society but is becoming increasingly common, and the stigma of it is fading. We may even reach a point in the not so distant future where serial monogamy and cohabitation replace marriage. Madagascar, by contrast, is a society of universal marriage where marrying is a social obligation; not doing so is unthinkable. I think I prefer the modern American approach; if I do choose to marry, I should do so for my own reasons and not out of a need to be socially acceptable.

Coloring my view of marriage, and as a counterbalance to my true feeling of joy at seeing my friends tie the knot, is the recent news that my parents are now separated and heading towards divorce. I will not go into detail regarding this situation, but will only mention that I received the news a few days before Ian and Denise’s event. My brother Josh called me at work and filled me in with the details. I was shocked that the state of affairs between my parents had deteriorated so rapidly, and with seemingly little advance notice. I was, and still am, overwhelmed with the weight of this news; while I knew that there were issues between my parents, I really did think my own Mom and Dad would stick it out until the end of their days on this earth.

I immediately reached out to all of my friends in DC and had hours of conversation with all of them. Several of these even happened at the wedding itself. I sat down with my friend Kevin on a wooden bench on the ground floor of the barn and told him everything. Later, after an especially intense round of dancefloor mayhem, I sought a private moment of clarity and contemplation on the deck overlooking the Virginia countryside. My friend Dion, another of the groomsmen, joined me only minutes later. We got to talking, and I quickly related my emotional conflict. “How bittersweet life is,” I remarked. It is apparently a universal constant that everything good in life is followed by something bad, and vice versa. I suppose there are no permanently happy endings, only acts of faith: faith in one’s capacity for self-sacrifice, faith in the generosity and commitment of the other, and (for some) faith that God will providentially work his will in this world to ultimately bring goodness out of pain. If anything, I suppose my parents’ experience has taught me that love is hard and that there are no fairy tales, no riding off into the sunset; only mutual sacrifice over years and decades, a willingness to be vulnerable and honest even when it hurts intensely to do so, and a belief that life is ultimately better with a particular person than without them.

Marriage can be a very good thing, but it can also end in catastrophe and unleash untold collateral damage on entire families. Is that a risk worth taking? I still think it is, though I am perhaps less sure of that now than I was back in my twenties when marriage seemed to me the guaranteed ticket to permanent happiness. I may still wear literal rose-colored glasses in real life, but the metaphorical shades have come off as I’ve progressed in my fourth decade on this planet.

But back to Ian and Denise. I should mention that while the ceremony was probably the most meaningful of any I have witnessed at a wedding, the after party was pretty darn good too. In this, the bride and groom made sure to include an essential element, the absence of which would have been unthinkable: our very own band and live performance for all of the guests. I say “our” because the newly christened folk ensemble, The Swanbees (a delightfully hipster portmanteau of the names of the bride and groom), counted eight among its members: three guitarists (including me on electric), a drummer, a violinist, a cellist, and two pure vocalists. A love of music unites our entire community; indeed, it is the very reason why I am sitting here in Madagascar only a few feet away from my guitar, my most treasured possession. There is a melodic thread that runs through our friendships, and The Swanbees is the perfect expression of our shared passion. The group overall performed six or seven songs, though some of us sat out a few of these, including a riveting cover of Brandy Carlyle’s “I Belong to You,” fueled by Denise’s graceful vocals and Ian’s flawless guitar work. I joined in for the last three, adding fingerpicking to accent the chords on “Wagon Wheel,” “Ho Hey,” and “Take Me Home Country Roads.” As you can tell by these last three, the song choice definitely accented the rustic ambiance. This was actually the first time I had seriously attempted to play a song on electric guitar; I kept my parts as simple as possible, and I like to think I contributed at least something positive. Just the experience of being on stage with my friends was pure bliss for me: indeed, this is what I imagine heaven to be, playing music non-stop with people you love. One of the things I most look forward to in returning to the US is the opportunity for more collaborations with my friends, including (hopefully) a revival of the Swanbees.

As with most weddings these days, this one ended with a high octane dance-fest. This, too, delivered some of the best scenes of the night. My friend Teddy doing “the worm” on the floor and getting seriously airborne in the process, the inevitable back pain be damned. The obligatory blast of “Don’t Stop Believing,” with everyone belting out the chorus in unison and shredding their air guitars until their fingers bled with imaginary blood. The spontaneous generation of dance circles where those with enough folly jump into the middle and let loose with whatever contortions and rhythmic undulations pop into their brains at that moment. I availed myself of the latter opportunity more than once, flailing my arms and legs in some barely coordinated fashion (including my signature move: the reverse arm windmill I borrowed from a Lady Gaga music video), but enough to get a few cheers out of the audience. I have learned how to do this, even without alcohol; there is something cathartic about it, the way it releases you from the worries of the day and allows you to disappear into the sweet relief of musical pandemonium.

A few days after the wedding, I was on a plane back to Madagascar. It was a stay happily spent and I was fortunately able to see almost everyone important to me in the DC area. Now I’ve got five more months to go.