CHAPTER 2

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Introduction by Wedding Officiant

It’s important to use this introductory segment to establish that this will be a ceremony unlike any other that the guests have attended. My brief intro is all I need to let guests know that this wedding will be different from any other wedding they’ve ever attended, that I’m a trustworthy host with a sense of humor, that I appreciate the weightiness of the event and am strong enough to hold it, and that I’m super-excited for what’s about to happen. Have you ever seen a warm-up comedian before a TV show taping? It’s like that, but there’s no Q & A, and it’s only about 45 seconds long—longer if I need to remind people not to take photos or engage in social media during the wedding. I’m my own warm-up act. It gets the guests in a good mood, builds an air of anticipation, gets the guests ready to focus on the couple, and, most pragmatically, makes the processional cueing idiot-proof.

It all begins with an entrance. Every ceremonial space is different, but usually, there is some kind of walk from wherever I have been out of sight to where the ceremony happens. I use this time as much as I can. From the moment I enter the space, from the absolute very moment that anyone can see me, I am ON. Sometimes this is as simple as coming out from behind a curtain, entering the center aisle, and stopping, just for a beat, to establish that I am not some venue person here to check on the runner or take a photo of the altar. I am here to get this ceremony going! (The book I’m holding gives it away for astute guests.) I enter, then stop. And I’m not talking about a dull pause—I’m talking about a stop loaded with bubbling energy, a stop that nobody thinks will last long.

Find the stops. This was drilled into me hundreds of times by my hard-core Suzuki Method theater instructors. The stop allows the guests to absorb the story which that particular stop is telling. Think of it this way: it is easier to focus on something still than something that is shaking all over the place. The paintings in the museum are not moving. I have to be still. I tell a story with my body. Stop. I make a statue that tells a story. Imbuing the stop with energy is also important: it is more interesting to look at a hungry tiger that is not moving than a block of wood that is not moving; that block of wood will probably not do anything, but that tiger sure might.

If anyone notices that I have entered—and someone will—I smile. Enter. Stop. Smile. I’m probably already smiling because I love my job and the waiting is over.

Then I go!

Then there is the walk up the aisle to the ceremonial space. For as long as I remember, I have spent this time saying “hello” over and over, greeting as many guests as I can with a simple hello. When I presided over the memorial service for Joan Rivers’ dog on her show Joan & Melissa: Joan Knows Best, all the guests were in place for rehearsal, the cameras were ready, I was up at the lectern, I had just done my intro, and it was time for Joan to enter. This is what she did: she entered the room and stopped. Then she smiled at the sight of so many friends who had turned up. It was a full moment. Then she walked to her seat, saying “hello” to each and every person there, turning to each guest with each greeting. It was funny, it was polite, and it filled the time from her entrance to her taking her seat. I loved that routine, so I stole it.

I have not met many famous people in my life, so it was exciting to meet Joan Rivers, despite the sad circumstances. Like she did with everything, she made use of it for comedy, but deep down, as she told me later, she really was in shambles over Max, her favorite dog, one she’d rescued and given a home. She was polite to everyone before, during, and after filming, generous to everyone, thankful. I thought, That’s how I want to be with people if I ever get to be an old Jewish comedian. (RIP Joan.)

I miss Joan too. Back to your introduction: what should be mentioned in this intro?

Great question! The goal of the intro is to focus your guests on the ceremony, to escort their minds from the million issues they may be thinking of to the important details at hand. The ceremony is the most important part of the wedding day, and this is the moment to align their thoughts with this fact.

How the heck do I do that?

Another great question! You’re a natural question-asker!

How can you get someone to think about what you want them to think about? That could be a whole other book, and if anyone could figure out a foolproof way to answer that question, spouses around the world would rejoice. Here are some tips.

Make the guests feel good about everything. It has been well-documented in documents that people will remember only a small percentage of what you say, another small percentage of what you look like, and a huge percentage of how you made them feel. So, I try to make the guests feel good!

From the moment I hit the aisle, the demeanor I present as I walk up the aisle, the gusto with which I take the microphone (or just start speaking if I don’t need a microphone), is brimming with excitement, happiness—in short, everything absent from a Radiohead song. I can’t wait to get started, and the guests love that because, by that point, they probably can’t wait for this thing to get started either! I smile like I could smile all day. I’m breathless with excitement. I try to give the idea that there is simply too much to talk about. I drive through the end of each sentence (more on this later). I do not belabor anything; I move from important thing to important thing, building the tenor of excitement until it is full to bursting!

I use psychological mentalist language tricks. I plant seeds of thought with suggestions. I prime the guests to experience what I want them to experience: love, excitement, beginnings, drama, tears, romance, laughter, food, dancing—using the words of the evening to focus the guests on the events in store for them, and off the fight they just had in the parking lot or the work they are putting off until Monday or their jealousy of the groom or indigestion from that gas station hot dog or the lyrics of that Taylor Swift song. I get them to shake all this off and arrive, with me, in a frenzy of anticipation for a wedding.

As with meeting anyone for the first time, letting people know my name is a good start. Giving a fun and brief description of my occupation is helpful too, because the guests may be wondering if I am a priest or a rabbi or a humanist or some friend who got ordained online in the parking lot just in time to officiate. I let them know that I am a trained celebrant and professional officiant, to let them know that this is my work, to assure them that I take this work seriously and that I’m the one who is going to make the marriage official.

As the evening’s entire exercise is about love, I use the word love within seconds of speaking. It’s also about celebration, so I use that word too. I tell them that I love my job, and sparingly describe what that job is: “My name is Christopher Shelley, and I love my job. I am a wedding officiant and celebrant, which means that my job is to marry this couple to each other and to celebrate WHY they are getting married . . .”

Then I outline something wonderful about what they have in store for the evening: the chance to reconnect with people they’ve not seen in a long time or to meet people for the very first time. Plus, I remind them that they will be fed and then they will dance! How wonderful does that sound? Pretty gosh-darned wonderful. And I try to sound super-excited about it, to make the guests believe that I myself am looking forward to the evening’s events, even though technically I will be leaving after one or two beers at cocktail hour and I’ll be home in shorts and a T-shirt drinking Carlsbergs and watching reruns of Psych or The Mentalist with my wife before the guests even hit the dance floor.

Then, by golly, I welcome them to where we are, zooming in like a Google Map—state, city, park, venue, and specifically the wedding of [couple’s names]. Gosh, it’s exciting! Guests love hearing names of people they know! And meanwhile, in some hallway, just out of sight, the couple hears the guests cheering for their names, and that makes them feel good!

Then I prep the guests for the very next thing in store for them: the dramatic entrances of the bridal party. It’s so exciting. Everything is set. Sometimes I check off the giant wedding list items that have been dealt with over the past several months: the couple picked out a person to marry, they booked a venue, they found an officiant, they selected a photographer and a videographer, they enjoyed lots of free advice, they made Mom feel like she was involved, they selected a caterer and endured a rigorous tasting menu, they found the perfect florist, the perfect ceremony musicians, the perfect band for the reception; or they just picked the perfect wedding planner who did all of this for them while they binge-watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

Then I bring us right to the brink of the entrance itself: the musicians are ready to play more amazing music, the wedding party is ready to make their big entrance, and I’ve had lots and lots of caffeine. (I’ve been mentioning this caffeine thing for years—partly because it is usually true, and partly because I like to plant the idea of caffeine and therefore being awake into their brains in this subtle way.)

Then I declare the wedding planning to be officially over!!! Let the ceremony begin!!! (As obvious a processional music cue as ever there was.)

Wedding guests have this natural default status of silent reverence before a ceremony, which is really creepy if you’ve ever walked into it. This is probably because they are accustomed to the poker-faced buzzkill of religious ceremonies. My introductory section is also helpful for the couple and anyone else who is about to enter the space and who may be extra-stressed about the whole thing. Remember, the bridal party can hear the intro and the guests’ reaction to the intro. If I can get the guests excited and laughing a little bit, if I can get them cheering and vocal about their excitement, the wedding party will hear that excitement and know that they are entering a warm, friendly love-space, instead of a dark, chilly tomb.

Then BAM! The musicians launch into the processional music, which leads us to . . .