Hopes, beliefs not required for a licensed marriage officiator

Now I’ve done it. Gone completely over the deep end. Nutty as the mythical fruitcake – you know, the only one in the world, which people just send again and again since no one actually eats it.

I’ll get to that in a bit, but first, it’s a brand spanking new year and hallelujah, praise Jesus, Mary and Joseph, we’re done with the “Oh’s” – as in, “Oh, what’s going to go wrong next?”

Now, on to what will no doubt be the “tempestuous tens.” Continued stormy weather and tumultuous times ahead, I’m afraid. But we can hope for better, right?

I hope I never see that fruitcake at my front door. And I can shoot for the sky and hope we get out of Vietghanistan sometime soon, too, however unlikely the prospect.

But it’s best, I think, not to have too many hopes, period. Nor too many fervid beliefs, as the two go hand-in-hand.

There is inherent hope in belief. Belief, however, is not identical to hope. It makes no sense to say, “I hope I believe in God.” It does make sense to hope that one’s belief in God is valid.

Belief carries expectation. Belief in something is belief for something.

The promise of belief, therefore, is always in the future, not the present. Put another way, present belief is for the future.

Expectation is always in advance of actual experience. While it sounds banal to say, “I believe in apple pie,” contrast that with actually eating it. One does not believe in apple pie while munching on a slice.

The philosopher Spinoza said that where there is hope there is fear, and that where there is no hope there is no fear. This might at first appear odd, since we usually consider it a virtue.

But, because reality does not always accommodate hope, it always carries an attached fear that what is hoped for might not happen. In fact, if one were to say, “Hope is fear in advance,” does it still sound so virtuous?

Expectation, part of what I call ordinary belief, carries no such weight. In fact, it’s easy to do a self-check to see whether or not you have a hope or an expectation.

No attached fear? Then it’s an expectation.

I try not to believe in anything these days that has an attached hope. Certainly nothing of any great import, and I find provisional belief helpful in this regard. To not really believe in belief. Unbelief. Including unbelief in unbelief.

Belief closes doors. Unbelief opens them. Which returns us to the fruitcake.

Not long ago my wife walked in, laughing about a phone call from earlier in the day. A friend’s daughter was getting married in a few months and apparently found the idea of a traditional religious ceremony unsuited to her beliefs.

She also reads my column regularly and apparently wondered, while talking with her mom, whether I might be qualified to officiate.

“Well, you know who he’s married to?” Ring, ring.

My first thought – i.e., belief – was, “No way, I’m not licensed.” I was kind of flattered, though.

But then – you can hear the sound of my head inflating – I thought, “I should check this out. Just what is required, anyway?”

Google me this, Batman.

I quickly found the Web site for the Universal Life Church Monastery, which offered, among other things, advice on how to officiate over a marriage, links to the various states’ legal requirements, and, oh, immediate ordination.

So I’m now a duly authorized Reverend of the Universal Life Church. Like I said, nutty, isn’t it?

Actually, it’s even worse than that. I went for an upgrade, my Doctor of Divinity. Hallelujah!