Marriage is an institution, and you must be fully committed to

Hear now, O seekers of love and loyalty, the words of Gene Simmons, the man who once strode the world as a symbol of rebellion, yet spoke with the wisdom of one who had learned the value of devotion: “Marriage is an institution, and you must be fully committed to it.” These words, though born from the lips of a rock legend, carry the weight of ancient truth. For in them lies the understanding that love, if it is to endure, must be more than desire — it must be discipline; more than passion — it must be purpose.

To call marriage an institution is not to confine it, but to honor its endurance through time. It is an institution not of stone or law, but of the heart — a sacred structure built by two souls who choose to intertwine their destinies. Within its walls dwell the echoes of laughter and the tremors of sorrow, the fires of youth and the embers of age. It is a place where love is tested, not once, but daily, through the choices we make when the glow of romance fades and the work of partnership begins. Thus, when Simmons speaks of commitment, he does not speak of chains, but of anchors — the steadfastness that keeps love from drifting when the storms of life arrive.

The origin of this wisdom is as old as humanity itself. From the dawn of civilization, marriage has been the covenant that binds not only two people, but the generations that follow them. In the sacred writings of East and West, the joining of two hearts has always been treated as a reflection of divine unity — a union where love is both an emotion and an act of faith. Simmons himself, known once for living outside the bounds of convention, came to understand through time that commitment is not the end of freedom, but its perfection — for only those who give themselves wholly can truly receive the fullness of love.

Consider, my listeners, the tale of Odysseus and Penelope, the enduring lovers of old. When Odysseus was lost upon the seas for twenty long years, Penelope stood firm, resisting the suitors who sought her hand. Her patience was her commitment, her loyalty the foundation of her marriage. Though oceans and years separated them, their hearts remained bound by faith and promise. When Odysseus finally returned, weary and aged, it was not beauty or passion that reunited them, but shared endurance — the triumph of two souls who never abandoned their covenant. Such is the kind of love Simmons speaks of: not fleeting affection, but the strength that survives distance, time, and trial.

In the modern age, where the winds of convenience blow fiercely, many have come to see marriage as fragile — something to discard when comfort wanes or novelty fades. Yet, to the wise, this very challenge is what makes marriage sacred. Commitment is not measured in ease, but in perseverance. To remain when it would be simpler to leave, to forgive when wounded, to rebuild when trust is shaken — these are not weaknesses, but acts of quiet heroism. For to commit is to say, “I will love not only when it is easy, but especially when it is hard.”

Simmons’ words remind us that to enter this institution is to accept both joy and burden. It is to bind your destiny to another’s — to share not just laughter and light, but labor and loss. The fullness of marriage lies not in perfection, but in participation — the willingness to keep showing up, even when your heart is weary. This is not submission; it is strength. For in giving fully to another, you discover the deeper self that only love reveals.

Therefore, O children of the present age, take heed of this teaching: do not enter marriage as one enters a garden of pleasure, but as one approaches a temple — with reverence, humility, and courage. Know that commitment is not the end of desire, but its transformation into devotion. Tend to your love daily, as a gardener tends his soil. Speak truth even when silence would be easier. Forgive quickly, cherish deeply, and remember that to be “fully committed” is to choose love again and again, not as feeling, but as will.

Thus spoke Gene Simmons, who, having lived the storm of fame, came to understand the calm of faithfulness. His words remind us that the strength of a marriage lies not in its glamour, but in its endurance — in two souls who, standing together, defy time and circumstance with the simple, eternal vow: “I will not leave.” For in such love is found not the loss of freedom, but its highest form — the freedom to give oneself wholly, and in doing so, to find eternity in the heart of another.