Though we were both raised in the same faith, I am the practicing of the two of us. More often than not, I don't bother dragging C-Rock to church with me and instead go it alone. Whereas I thrive on the tradition, the words, the community... he just doesn't feel he gets anything out of the weekly hour of pew aerobics. The arrangement usually works for us because part of my personal beliefs is that no one has a right to say anything about another's journey with his or her maker. However, there have been the occasional exceptions to general balance we have found in our relationship with the church.
One such instance was when we were engaged and going through our pre-cana (a premarital series required in order to get married in our faith). As part of the required series, we had an option between a one-day workshop or a weekend retreat with other engaged couples. You might imagine that a quiet, private man who is not eager to attend weekly service wasn't so keen on the idea of devoting an entire weekend with strangers while we explored our faith and our feelings for one another. We battled it out over the course of several months, but in the end C-Rock screwed up with something big and "decided" to attend the retreat as penance.
Probably C-Rock's biggest gripe over the whole ordeal was having to share a small room with another man. (Apparently, he was under the mistaken impression that the church would have the unmarried couples room together.) The retreat was led by two older married couples and one priest. The whole weekend was planned to the minute and though we were exhausted by the end, the experience did force us to have many deep, one-on-one conversations with each other about topics that C-Rock wouldn't normally be in a mindset to discuss openly. By the time we had reached the final evening, I was feeling very comfortable and open. So, when we were given the chance to submit anonymous questions to the retreat leaders, I seized the opportunity to ask some real, though taboo questions. I gave it some serious thought and then submitted my anonymous slips of paper.
When the retreat leaders fetched the first question out of the hat, my heart quickly plunged into my stomach. It read, "My fiance and I are having a difficult time selecting which reading would be most appropriate for our ceremony. Do you have any suggestions?" The next several sickeningly innocent questions did nothing to alleviate my mounting mortification. But, I knew as long as I could remain calm when they got to my racy questions, my anonymity would be my refuge. The woman reading my first question appeared slightly startled, but thankfully remained composed as she read, "My fiance and I disagree regarding whether we ought to engage in a period of complete abstinence before our wedding. Do you think this would give us time to reflect on the non-physical aspects of our relationship or that the distance might become a wedge between us in the months leading up to our marriage?" A few brave individuals actually voiced opinions and the leaders responded with some helpful feedback. I was beyond relieved that no one could see how deeply I was blushing in the darkened room!
Unfortunately, before I'd had a chance to fully recover, the woman immediately draws out my second question. She reads, "My fiance and I disagree on whether pornography is acceptable in our household once we are married. Is it unreasonable that it makes me uncomfortable?" This time the leaders do not hold for audience input and instead launch into a lecture on the Catechism and how pornography is NEVER acceptable and... When C-Rock cuts her off by loudly exclaiming, "Then WHAT the HECK am I supposed to do during this (he raises his hands to gesture air quotes) "period of abstinence"?! Cover blown. I wanted to die.
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