You can have a wedding at Fenway Park.

In the words of Mike Barnicle, we are reminded that love may be consecrated not only in temples of stone, but in the temples of the people. He declares, “You can have a wedding at Fenway Park,” invoking that hallowed ground of baseball, where generations have gathered not for ritual of faith, but for ritual of sport. His words reveal a deeper truth: that sacredness is not confined to churches or altars; it is created wherever hearts unite and community bears witness.

The ancients understood this well. The Greeks wedded their reverence for the gods with their reverence for the stadium, for in the Olympic Games, contests of strength were as holy as sacrifices upon the altar. To marry within the walls of Fenway Park is to do the same: to root personal vows within the living history of a place already heavy with memory, victory, and devotion. It is to declare that love, like the game, is played in seasons, through triumphs and through trials.

Barnicle’s vision also speaks of accessibility and imagination. Too often, weddings are bound to rigid notions of where and how they must unfold. But to stand upon the green of Fenway, beneath the echoes of cheers and the shadow of the scoreboard, is to proclaim that love has the power to transform any place into sanctuary. It is to say: wherever the heart is true, there the holy ground will be.

History offers its reflection in the story of Rome’s Forum, where not only politics and commerce but also marriages were celebrated. The public square was no less sacred than the temple, for it bore the weight of communal life. Just as the Forum became a place where personal unions mingled with public legacy, so too does Fenway—marrying the intimate story of two souls to the wider tale of a community’s devotion.

Therefore, let it be remembered: the wedding is sanctified not by marble pillars or stained glass, but by the love that fills the space. Whether in a church, a field, or a ballpark, the vow remains eternal. Barnicle’s words carry this lesson: that life’s greatest commitments need no prescribed stage. Love itself makes the ground holy, and when spoken aloud—be it beneath cathedral arches or under the lights of Fenway Park—it becomes eternal in the memory of all who gather to witness it.