The Question of Marriage – Sunday, June 17, 1945

The Question of Marriage – Sunday, June 17, 1945

The world has become somewhat scrambled of late—that is, people have; and countless numbers, uprooted from their customary environment, find themselves in strange and unfamiliar places with strange and unfamiliar people. But despite this, those who are young look expectantly to the unfolding of the years, to cherished companionship, to the making of homes, to the rearing of families. They have a right to their dreams. They have a right to see such dreams come true. But even in times of settled stability, one of the most critical decisions of life, one forever after affecting happiness, is the question of marriage—or more specifically, the choice of a partner in marriage.

It is the normal pattern for each maturing generation to select the partners of a lifetime from among those they have come to know by continuing association, by growing friendship, through family acquaintance, through school or work, or through some approved social channel. And long experience has proved the wisdom of knowing well and appraising with discrimination the qualities of those who seem likely to become more than friends. Concerning marriage, there is perhaps no single factor which one can positively say, will insure its success or forecast its failure. But there are conceded to be some standards, some accumulated generations of experience, which those who would commit the whole of their lives to each other would do well to consider. For example, some marriages which seem desirable in far places may not seem to retain the same appearance nearer home. Some hasty marriages prove to be much too hasty. Some decisions influenced by mere loneliness may lead to situations less tolerable than loneliness. And decisions influenced by moonlight and music must also survive the searching scrutiny of broad daylight, with all of its undeniable realities.

Then, of course, there are those who suppose that marriages can be made lightly and unmade easily and with impunity, but, lives are permanently altered by marriage, no matter how long they endure or how soon they are terminated. And whatever exceptions may be cited to the contrary, in marriage wisdom suggests common ideals, common beliefs, and a common ground for the meeting of many issues; and, lacking these, personal attraction alone may not always be sufficient. Marriage is much more than a legal contract. It is a sacred covenant, for by it, children and their mental and physical and spiritual heritage are at issue; by this choice lives are made and broken; ideals are kept or forsaken; homes are secured or violated; happiness is won or lost. Surely no marriage at its making should hold less than the reasonable prospect of continuing forever—and surely the record of broken marriages would suggest thoughtful and prayerful approach to this question, at home or away, in war or in peace.

“The Spoken Word,” heard over Radio Station K S L and the nationwide Columbia Broadcasting System, from the Tabernacle, Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Sunday, June 17, 1945. Copyright 1945.
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June 17, 1945
Broadcast Number 0,826