February 8th marks World Marriage Day, sponsored by Worldwide Marriage Encounter. At my parish’s 11:30 mass, we’ll have a renewal of wedding vows. This is my homily for the occasion.

When Msgr. Funaro asked me to preach for today, World Marriage Day, I took a look at the readings and was delighted to see the gospel is, in part, about a mother-in-law. It’s the only place, I believe, where the gospel makes mention of any mother-in-law at all, and it just happens to be Simon Peter’s.

Don’t worry: I won’t bore you with mother-in-law jokes this morning.

But this gospel does give a tantalizing glimpse into the private life of one of the apostles. We tend to think of them as somewhat solitary figures – the 12 men who ended up founding and spreading a faith. We don’t think of them as husbands or family men. But clearly, there’s more to them than what we read in the gospels.

We don’t know if Peter’s wife was alive at this time – some think he may have been a widower – and we also don’t know if he had any children. But this episode does invite us to imagine what sort of husband Peter might have been.

Based on the evidence in the scriptures: I suspect he was less like Ward Cleaver, and more like Ralph Kramden.

But then, most of us husbands are.

The perfect husband, or perfect wife, is as much of a myth as the perfect marriage – or, for that matter, the perfect priest or deacon. Our flawed nature means that we are constantly falling short of whatever ideal we imagine. The challenge for us is to accept that, and to live with that – and to forgive that, in ourselves, and in those we love.

It also requires that we expect the unexpected.

When I was six years old, my parents packed up the station wagon – a 1965 tan Plymouth Fury — piled suitcases on a luggage rack on the roof, and took my sister and me on a big vacation out west. We visited the Badlands, and the Corn Palace, and Mount Rushmore. But my most vivid memory was Pike’s Peak, in Colorado.

It was a blazing hot day in mid-August, and my dad started driving the station wagon up the long and winding road toward the top. As we got higher, we found ourselves going through clouds, like a fog. And after a bit, we passed through the clouds, and went higher and higher up the mountain.

And there, we saw something amazing.

Snow.

There was snow around the top of the peak, and it was actually snowing as we drove higher. Flurries everywhere. It was incredible. Mysterious. It seemed like we’d driven headlong into Christmas. I’d never seen anything like it before.

And that, my friends, is marriage.

It is a journey up a winding road, to a place you cannot see, or even imagine. And you cannot predict what you will find as the journey goes on – or where it will take you. It is a wonder.

And we need to have a sense of that wonder, too, as we take that journey with the person who will be our partner for the trip. You need a map, of course, a sense of direction and shared purpose and a common destination. But you also have to keep your eyes and your heart open to the unforeseen – the miracles and the mistakes, the surprises and the setbacks.

You never know when you might find a snowstorm in the summer.

And you never know how it will change you.

It’s so fitting that the first miracle of Jesus, the changing of water into wine, happened at a wedding, in the early hours of a marriage. Because marriage is about transformation – it is about how the water of our lives, when touched by another, is changed. Life becomes sweeter, richer, fuller. It becomes like wine. It has the ability to intoxicate us.

And, of course, what has become wine can then be further transformed. Wine, at this altar, becomes Christ. And two people, in marriage, become a family. The human story continues – enriched, changed, sanctified.

What this means is so simple, and so beautiful: when joined in the sacrament of matrimony, we become something more than what we were.

Because of love.

Because of grace.

Because of another.

In this day and age, so many of us are pulled in a thousand different directions. The job, the kids, the house, the bills, the chores. For myself, I also have my ministry as a deacon.

And it can be easy to lose sight of the person who makes this ministry possible. My wife.

Before we were ordained, Bishop Caggiano warned us. You’re going to have a lot of demands and expectations placed on you, he said. But he told us never to forget this: “Your first priority,” he told us, “is your first vow.”

I think that has applications far beyond ministry in the church. Particularly in this day and age, when the sacrament of marriage often finds itself belittled or marginalized. This morning, we as a Church stand in defiance of that. And we affirm that the transformative power of marriage continues – in ourselves, and in our world

In a moment, all of us who are married will renew together that “first vow.” I ask you to recall that promise you made. The joyous journey you undertook together. The unexpected discoveries. The clouds you passed through. And the beautiful, miraculous snow on the other side.

We are here to bear witness to that to the world. To embrace that, and to celebrate that, and to remind one another of this wondrous fact of life:

Marriage isn’t a destination.

It is a journey.

And our adventure up that mountain continues.