Marrying my older sister goes off without a hitch

I'm not sure my hometown county clerk heard anything I said after I requested legal permission to "marry my sister." Even in rural Indiana, that appeal will raise eyebrows and get you redirected to the state health department for a genetics lecture.

For the record, my sister was marrying a guy outside familial bloodlines. I merely wanted to officiate their wedding.

I became an "ordained clergy member" of the Church of Spiritual Humanism in July of 2005, after Chicago Tribune columnist Eric Zorn wrote about how he and TV host John Callaway could legally perform weddings because they registered at www.spiritualhumanism.org -- a Web site that offers free and instant clergy ordination to anyone who meets the requirement of being able to click on the "ordain me" link.

But what started as a lark to keep pace with my media brethren turned into a very meaningful experience this past weekend when I was honored, humbled and thrilled to officiate the truly joyous wedding of my sister Nancy and longtime family friend Bob.

Held on the beautiful grounds of our family farm manicured by my brother Bill, the wedding featured heartfelt vows written by the happy couple. They exchanged rings under a pergola constructed by Bob and painted by members of both families barely in time for the wedding. We had music, readings and the typical wedding trappings. Moms, siblings, children, cousins, other loved ones and precious memories of both deceased fathers all played a role in what turned out to be a most lovely and fun ceremony and reception.

While totally unrelated legal concerns kept us from fulfilling all the legally binding obligations of a state-recognized marriage contract (which they plan to complete later), we all consider them husband and wife.

My plastic ID card says that as "a legally and officially ordained clergy person," I am authorized to perform "marriage, baby naming, funeral, hand fasting [symbolic linking of hands], commitment, affirmation of love, invocation, renewal of marriage and holiday ceremonies."

Mom pondered the idea of me officiating a funeral, and gave me her "over my dead body" look -- which I didn't know whether to take as a rejection of my clergy services or a booking for the gig.

We laughed about how everyone is glad my clergy services don't include circumcisions. I offered to hear confessions. I recounted how I piously paid a recent $10 parking fee at a hospital, rejecting the temptation to use my ID card to qualify for the garage's $2 clergy rate. We jokingly decided everyone should call me "the right reverend" for the weekend.

But the wedding was no joke to me or those there. It was more meaningful than a ceremony performed by an anonymous government bureaucrat or religious leader.

"The couple should be allowed to stand before who they want and make their vow to God or each other. That's the important thing," says Andre Hensley, president of the Universal Life Church (www.ulchq.com). Founded in 1959 by his father Kirby Hensley, a Baptist minister from North Carolina who died in 1999, the church has ordained more than 18 million people.

The church, which holds services and performs community work, ordains for free anyone who requests it, but tries to weed out applicants with fake names or addresses, Hensley says. Membership boomed in the 1960s and 1970s as people mistakenly thought they could use their preacher status to avoid the Vietnam War or federal tax laws, Hensley says.

Dozens of similar ordination services are available today on the Internet. Everyone from White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf to celebrity Tori Spelling has performed weddings in every state, although some require additional paperwork to be legal.

I loved officiating Nancy and Bob's wedding. It didn't seem at all strange for this journalist -- especially given that my real job is now being usurped by legions of bloggers and YouTube users.