Single Ceremony

Purpose

This ceremony helps a single person seek out the one God intends for them to marry, and works toward two goals at once: it announces to all the Eerkodeshiy a request to move feelings within someone else, creating an opening for the two to eventually cross paths, and it helps the single person themselves identify what repentance they still need to work through before the Lord brings that person into their life — usually meaning specific habits or behaviors that need to change to prepare them for what’s coming. Given that focus, the languages of repentance that surface during this ceremony matter enough to be written down.

Preparation

A crown is braided in four strands from green Mothers’ grass, with twelve trumpet vine flowers woven in — standing upright for a man’s crown, hanging down for a woman’s, since the flowers themselves carry the sense of the Father’s love being heralded like a trumpet call. Matching wristlets and anklets are made the same way, four flowers each.

The Ceremony

The congregation sits by gender, women to the north and men to the south, so each side can focus clearly on holding the candidate in mind as a man or woman. The candidate sits up front, facing west. After a sacred fire is lit and an opening prayer offered with Harari, the officiating minister explains the ceremony and places the crown, wristlets, and anklets on the candidate.

The candidate then speaks about their own journey toward wanting a spouse — their needs, whatever repentance they’ve already identified, and anything they’ve come to understand about their own path. The community responds with advice and honest reproval, and the candidate names their commitment to the Lord and what finding a spouse actually means to them. Their cheeks are then painted — pale yellow for a man, pink for a woman — marking that commitment. A man of service anoints them with cattail pollen at the heart, hands, feet, ears, mouth, and head, praying over each place for the change it will need to make once they meet their future spouse.

It’s important to understand what this ceremony does and doesn’t do: it raises the odds that two people will cross paths, but it never identifies who that person is — that discernment belongs to God alone, through His own unmistakable Spirit. It may not even be the first or second person the candidate meets afterward; the ceremony simply opens the door to ask the right questions with someone new, not answer them in advance.

The man of service stands east of the altar facing west, holding his censer with the pipe turned away from the candidate, offered toward the Lord, while the candidate sits facing the altar from the west. He prays based on everything the candidate has shared and whatever he’s sensed from the Spirit — but before closing, he watches for a signal from the candidate about whether to keep praying facing east, or whether the candidate would rather turn the censer west and pray for themselves instead. This choice matters because marriage is sacred enough that no one should feel anything was decided on their behalf without their full comfort. In all the times this ceremony has been performed, only once has someone chosen to pray for themselves — the man of service’s prayers have otherwise proven remarkably accurate, and several lasting marriages have grown out of this ceremony. A closing prayer with Harari brings it to an end.

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