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Wedding Speeches
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Below you can find the speeches given at the wedding: To our friends, from our secular priest (JJ) To Michel, from Olga To Olga, from Michel To our families and friends, from Olga and Michel To our friends, from our secular priest (JJ) On roses Cari amici, Queridos amigos, Cher amis, Dear Friends, Michel and Olga, have asked me to say a few words on this very special day. Certainly they are taking a risk. It is a fact of nature that I am not capable of saying just a few words. On the other hand, perhaps we are in no particular hurry today. So bear with me for a while. According to Michel, there was at least one good reason why he and Olga had chosen me to deliver this sort of speech. I am supposed to manage with most of the languages spoken in this marriage. This, coming from Michel, who has French and Italian as mother tongues, speaks fluent English and has learned Spanish in no time, was certainly a compliment, and I felt flattered by it. I imagined I could start my introduction by quoting my own version of the famous sentence attributed to King Charles the first of Spain. King Charles was a European, probably in the very same sense that many of us are. He had been educated in Germany by French, Italian and English tutors, and was coming to Spain to take the crown of a country he didn’t know much about. His Spanish was very rudimentary, but as Michel when he arrived to Valencia about one year ago, he wasn’t the least ashamed. He (Charles) was in love (so was Michel) and love has always been a powerful reason to learn languages. So, King Charles was asked in which language he expressed himself better. His answer was: It depends: I like German to speak to my soldiers and to my horse (German speakers, beware: he was very fond of his horse!) Je parle francais avec les ecrivains et les dames, Parlo italiano con gli politici, Pero a Dios, le hablo en Español. Not bad. Probably God didn’t mind too much his heavy accent, as I hope you don’t mind too much mine. But when I think of my language capabilities, I feel closer to the mad monk in “The name of the Rose”, than to King Charles. That mad monk who could speak every language in Europe, including latin, the English of the time. But his speech was all confusion. Every word came in a different dialect, every sentence was twisted and distorted by a myriad of provincial mannerisms, all what he said was, at the same time, utterly familiar to the listener, and a perfect mystery. Somewhat, he represented Europe. A synthesis of cultures, a cross-roads, a bonfire of immense potential, an ugly mess. Rivers of ink pouring two thousand years of wisdom, oceans of blood spilling two thousand years of infamy. A man touched by the God who could speak as if Babel had never been doomed, but was understood by no one. A would-be saint turned fool. I cannot help feeling closer to him than to great Charles. Centuries have gone by and he is still, perhaps, representing Europe all too well. However, Michel and Olga, getting married today, also represent Europe. One comes from Luxembourg, the other from Spain, they met overseas, in the new world, where both of them were foreigners, were none of them were foreigners. There are no real aliens in the United States, while every one is an alien in Europe, including in his own country. We are all Europe, too. Friends gathered from Italy, from Luxembourg, France, Spain, Germany, England and these other European States, the cities of New York, Boston and Chicago. My hope and my wish is that this wedding celebrates this diversity and this uniqueness called Europe. Let us toast to all that unite us, and forget what sets us apart. I have said enough about Kings and mad monks, but I would like to say a few more words about roses. Roses stand, like poetry, for all that is beautiful, for all that is ephemeral. For all those things we love, for all those things we loose. There are three roses that come to my memory. The first one is the rose of Paracelsus. He was also a European. He was an alchemist. Like many of us, he had spent his life searching the stone that turns lead into gold. He, we are told, prayed to his God, to his undetermined God, to any God, for a disciple. That very same night, a young man knocked on the door. He had crossed Europe to reach the master. He offered all his considerable fortune to Paracelsus, he promised eternal loyalty to his cause. He came with a rose in his hand. Paracelsus was happy, but his happiness would not last. His would be disciple asked him for a token, a sign of his powers. He didn’t doubt, he said, but there were all those rumors, all that petty talk. Some said Paracelsus was no genius, some dared to affirm he was nothing but a fool, an impostor. Give me a sign, the disciple demanded. Just a sign and I will follow you forever. And he threw the rose to the fire, and he asked for a miracle. The rose burned, and Paracelsus did nothing, and the disciple understood that the poor old man was helpless, and had been defeated and humiliated. He left in a hurry and Paracelsus remained alone and silent, watching the fire. Many of us, like him, have devoted our life to a useless quest. Alchemy. Philosophical stones, quarks and leptons, gluons and neutrino oscillations, the search for the unicorn. Michel and Olga are two that have followed the Master, and have not asked for a sign. They have chosen to believe that the rose will not burn. We live in difficult times were roses are made of polystyrene and sold to the highest bidder. But this wedding also celebrates that many of us still believe that lead will turn, sooner or later, into glittering gold. There is another rose that comes to mind. A few years ago, there was a Fabled Workshop in some Far-Away Country. Cendrillon, Cenicienta, Cinderella, was supposed to give her first talk in that Fabled Workshop, attended by many princes and princesses. She was thin, her skin was the colour of the Spanish olives, and she had the loveliest smile of this sector of the Galaxy. She didn’t sleep for a full month before her 10 minutes allotted presentation. She memorized every sentence she would say by heart. She changed her mind about the attire she would wear two hundred and twenty seven times. Her latin was, incidentally, as fast and mixed as that of our mad monk. So the day of her first public appearance, Cendrillon, Cenicienta, Cinderella, fixed an enormous, red rose to her hair. People have, since long, forgotten about the Fabled Workshop. Some say the topic was neutrinos, some say neutrinos is the next thing to nothing, and therefore the Fabled Workshop was staged by the Fairy God-Mother. Nor even the Fable Country is remembered. Some say it was Japan, some defend it was Sweden. Several contradictory versions exist concerning a lost-and-found tiny glass shoe. Some even say that Cendrillon, Cenicienta, Cinderella, passed out after the talk, and had to be taken to the hospital by seven white knights riding in a white ambulance (in other versions it is a Pumpkin turned Imperial Carriage). Almost every one agrees, however, that many hearts were broken that day. It is even whispered that the Blue Prince Himself, fell in love forever with the girl on that occasion. Some argue that Michel was at the time five thousand miles away from the Fabled Land, ignorant of roses and neutrinos. But these people have no faith. The one thing everybody remembers and everybody agrees on is this. Olga had a red rose in her hair, and she, as today, looked as beautiful as princesses do. But let me return to Paracelsus. Long after the unbeliever had left, he turned to the cold ashes and said a word. And the rose was there, intact in all its beauty, untouched by the fire. Let us celebrate today roses, beauty, wisdom, hope and faith. And to my friends, Michel and Olga, a final line from Angelus Silesius, another poet, another saint, a fool, a European. The rose, without knowing why, blossoms because she blossoms. La rosa, senza sapere perché, fiorisce, perché fiorisce La rose est sans pourquoi Fleurit parce quelle fleurit La rosa, sin saber por qué, florece porque florece. To Michel, from Olga Desde pequeña me ha encantado escribir... así que cuando comencé a dedicarte estas letras, me sentía poderosa, capaz de todo. Sin embargo, ha resultado ser tarea tedíosa necesitaría palabras que todavía no se han inventado para describir lo que siento por ti, Michel. Te quiero Michel, porque confío en que juntos seremos capaces de sembrar amistad, generosidad y amor allá donde vayamos, porque trataremos de hacer de este mundo, un mundito un poco mejor, porque en tus ojos veo mis ilusiones y pasiones y en tu sonrisa, veo mi felicidad. Porque adoro tu magia: tu presencia convierte casas en palacios, panes en suculentos manjares y problemas en soluciones! Espero que como hasta ahora, no haya muralla que nos separe y que afrontaremos cada día llenos de esperanza, amor y ternura, y que dentro de cinquenta, cien años nos miremos el uno al otro y sintamos que el día que nuestros caminos se cruzaron cambío el rumbo de nuestras vidas: todo alrededor se lleno de alegría. Querría dedicarte esta poesía: Te quiero de Mario Benedetti Tus manos son mi caricia, mis acordes cotidianos; te quiero porque tus manos trabajan por la justicia. Si te quiero es porque sos mi amor, mi cómplice, y todo. Y en la calle codo a codo somos mucho más que dos. Tus ojos son mi conjuro contra la mala jornada; te quiero por tu mirada que mira y siembra futuro. Tu boca que es tuya y mía, Tu boca no se equivoca; te quiero por que tu boca sabe gritar rebeldía. Si te quiero es porque sos mi amor mi cómplice y todo. Y en la calle codo a codo somos mucho más que dos. Y por tu rostro sincero. Y tu paso vagabundo. Y tu llanto por el mundo. Porque sos pueblo te quiero. Y porque amor no es aurora, ni cándida moraleja, y porque somos pareja que sabe que no está sola. Te quiero en mi paraíso; es decir, que en mi país la gente vive feliz aunque no tenga permiso. Si te quiero es por que sos mi amor, mi cómplice y todo. Y en la calle codo a codo somos mucho más que dos. To Olga, from Michel Vorrei dedicarti questa poesia: Il Palazzo di Capistrano Nel nostro palazzo Tu porterai bellezza E la gioia che sai trasmettere Porterai intuito nel comprendere gli altri E la generosita che fa si che ti siano amici Ne organizzerai la vita con ferrea determinazione E lo riempirai della tua infinita capacita di amare Nel nostro palazzo Io portero per te allegria nel quotidiano E comprensione a tutte le ore Spero di illuminarlo con equilibrio E che questo ti dia sicurezza e conforto Avrai rispetto e supporto per le tue scelte E mille attenzioni per farti sentire speciale Insieme costruiremo Un palazzo dalle mura solide Decorato con mosaici di lingue e culture Avremo cortili e sale per accogliere E finestre per sognare Penseremo a tavoli ai quali parlare E a cucine per realizzare Insieme costruiremo Letti per i nostri cari E torri di intimita per noi Avremo giardini per apprezzare i mutamenti delle nostre stagioni Lungo spiagge che abbracciano il respiro del mondo da esplorare insieme To our families and friends, from Olga and Michel Dear friends, We would like to tell you how much we appreciate you being here, to share with the two of us these special moments. Thanks to all who had to cross mountains, seas or oceans, for the effort and excitement you put in organizing your trips. Thank you very much to all of you, friends, not only for being here today, but for always being there, and to have offered to us your company, help, support and advice in so many occasions. Thank you for being such faithful companions and for never giving up in such a difficult task. Thanks to our parents, Angela, Estela, Fernand and Martin, for accomplishing with honours your task, and raise your son and daughther on solid foundations such as solidarity and generosity. Thanks to convince us that it is possible to change a little bit this world, and we promise that we will bring our own grains of sand to contribute to a more sane and generous world. Thanks to our brothers, Marc and Raúl, for being such good friends and exceptional persons, and because we hope that, together with Francesca and Vinyet, you will navigate through life leaving behind you pearls of happiness. Thanks also to all our other wonderful family members, and in particular to our grandmas, Estela and Concettina, who could not make it here today. Thanks grandmas: nobody on earth is, and never will be, like you. |