I always liked the idea of a civil marriage ceremony. It might sound corny but it probably has something to do with Love Story, which, growing up, was my all- time favourite movie for as long as I had a list. At the age of 12 I was fascin-ated with the idea that you could exchange homemade vows and say ‘I do’, DIY style, without a priest and all the pomp and ceremony that comes with a traditional church wedding. And for many years, I convinced myself that it was something you could only ‘get’ in the Unites States – like Hershey’s, Beef Jerky and Disneyland.

I imagine that in this, I form part of a minority, and that widespread and worldwide perception of church weddings is that they somehow feel more right and proper; that they render the exchanging of vows much more solemn and consequently the marriage commitment more sacred and real.

Although civil marriage has been available in Malta since 1975, the first and only time I attended a civil ceremony was earlier this year. And I marvelled at how beautiful and personal the whole thing was and how my gut feeling had been right all along. Simply put, that taking the Church out of the whole equation doesn’t make the marriage any less real or meaningful.

On the contrary, I found that the absence of the usual and clichéd rites and prayers ordinarily read out and rattled off unthinkingly in churches, every day of the year, made this event so much more unique and special and made everybody so much more attentive and interested in what was coming next.

Every reading had been carefully selected, and instead of listening to Corinthians’ ‘love is patient, love is kind’ – a reading we have been subjected to ad nauseam – we were exposed to different prose and poetry about love and relationships, equally spiritual and just as beautiful.

When it was all over and I got around to congratulating the bride and groom on the wonderful ceremony and choice of readings, I was told that there are rules about the readings, which are heavily vetted by the Registrar. No religious words are allowed. Any references to God are taboo. Any jokes or Bible scriptures are likewise ruled out.

Now rules are rules and I’d have absolutely no problem leaving God out of the ceremony, if that is what the Registrar wants. But that is exactly my point. I am inclined to believe that the problem is not with God, it’s with everyone else – people like you, me and the Registrar.

I can’t speak for God, but something tells me that He (he’s still male in my book, I’m afraid) wouldn’t be particularly vexed or upset at the name dropping, even if the union wasn’t being blessed inside ‘His’ Church.

Being told that you can’t talk to or about God unless you’re a paid-up practising member is an entirely man-made edict as far as I am concerned. Because although those who marry civilly may be precluded from bringing God into the equation on account of not having chosen to exchange their vows on His turf, I am sure they would still have God’s blessing. Just as I’m pretty sure God would not begrudge the blessing of any union on the basis of colour or gender issues.

Isn’t that what God is all about? He’s Switzerland and neutral. He’s everywhere – in caves, on mountains, rooftops, beaches, inside churches, synagogues and mosques. Isn’t there one all-seeing, all-knowing God for us all?

I revisited and reinforced these feelings and thoughts this week when I read through the Civil Unions Bill 2013, currently being debated in Parliament – which incidentally is not just available to same-sex couples as the media and newspaper headlines might have given us to understand. It extends to anyone and everyone who may want to make their relationship a little more permanent, secure and real, short of ‘getting married’.

The Bill provides that a partnership between two people of the same or opposite sex can be registered as a civil union which, once registered, will have the corresponding legal effects and consequences that normally arise from civil marriage. In fact, much of the Marriage Act – all the formalities, requirements and banns – have been transposed and also apply here.

Moreover, apart from providing for parenthood and adoption, the Bill also gives parties to the union the right to retain their own surname or to adopt one surname for both – without specifying which party. A rather innovative and interesting twist, which could even see men taking women’s surnames in the case of civil unions between men and women.

What we have here is a civil marriage in everything but name

The Bill has made it impossible for anyone to contract a civil union while still married, and has even rendered such a state of affairs bigamous. What the Bill hasn’t addressed are couples who may have cohabited for donkey’s years – who may even have children in common – but for a myriad of reasons have not divorced and are still separated and therefore legally bound by a previous marriage. It would seem these people still have no civil way out of ‘no man’s land’.

What we have here is a civil marriage in everything but name. It’s the coming together of two people, who will still be able to say ‘I do’, wear a ‘union band or ring’, throw a big party and publicly acknow-ledge and celebrate their partnership.

Which is ultimately what marriage is all about. Leaving religion aside for the moment, marriage is a public admission of a private fact – a coming together of two people who are about to make the most solemn and binding promise of their lives. A commitment is a commitment whoever, however, whatever. It’s colour-blind, gender-neutral and should be available and equal to all.

I applaud this step – one which many countries have stepped up to in recent months and simply comes down to equality and civilisation.

michelaspiteri@gmail.com