It is difficult to discern at what point the bachelor party took a turn for the best. One might argue that it was during the intense game of mini-put, as tempers flared and humility was needed all around. It is also probable that the sharing of wisdom on anything marriage and fatherhood, that seemed only to come in spurts by the way, was a highlight. But for me, I knew that we had reached our summit when finally, among the arm wrestling and onslaught of beer, the men at my table turned to the topic of the Faith.
And it wasn’t just Christianity that we were discussing either. I mean that the conversation was no arms length examination of ideas and worldviews of which Christianity was just the evening’s focus. No, for those around the table, and the soon to be husband that had invited us all there that night, the passionate plea for this or that understanding of any doctrine was in fact an appeal to build a life on solid ground.
And you know, I really do think G.K. Chesterton would have been proud. The man, who so often associated the Faith with a good piece of steak and a hearty beer, could only have applauded our natural tendency towards the best of things. And since our friend had chosen the best (and decided to marry her), we could only carry on in similar fashion.
This bachelor party was not about one more night of false liberty or an ego trip that destroys marriages before they even begin. Our evening was about the stuff of life and why it is worth living. It was a night any Christian could be proud of; and in hindsight, I certainly am.