Duly Ordained · New York City · Since 2011
I am Reverend Yurij — a licensed wedding officiant who has said "I now pronounce you" more times than some people have said "happy birthday." I do this rarely, on purpose, and with the full theatrical weight it deserves.
I want to marry you. (Professionally. Mostly.)
I first got ordained in 2011 for a friend's wedding in Michigan, wrote a ceremony that made an aunt cry actual tears, and never quite let the credential lapse.
This is not my job. I have a regular job. But when I put on the stole, I become someone else: a man who has clearly read too much Rilke, who will make unbroken eye contact during your vows, and who treats a rented function hall in Rockville Centre with the gravity of a cathedral.
Ordination
Universal Life Church, 2011 — still valid, notarized, laminated twice
Depends which angle you look at it from. All four are true at once, which is most of why the ceremony takes twenty minutes and the paperwork takes longer.
Romantic
Two people who, for reasons no courtroom could ever quantify, would rather annoy each other for fifty years than be at peace with anyone else. Everything else on this list is scaffolding for that.
Religious
For a lot of couples this is where scripture, ritual, or family tradition earns its place in the ceremony. I am ordained, not devout on your behalf — tell me what your families need to see and hear, and I will build it in properly.
Legal
Underneath the flowers, it is a contract — witnessed by two guests, signed by an officiant, and filed with a clerk who does not care how good your vows were. That paperwork is the part that actually changes your legal status.
Financial
It is also the fastest, cheapest way two people can rearrange their relationship to money: joint tax filing, next-of-kin rights in a hospital room, inheritance without a will, one household covering two people's insurance.
The ceremony fee never changes. What changes is how far I have to go, and by what means, to get there and back in one dignified piece.
Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, Staten Island — and close enough that the subway still counts.
A full ceremony, written and rehearsed, delivered by someone who owns three separate stoles for the occasion.
$200
Westchester, the Hudson Valley, Long Island past the LIE, New Jersey, Connecticut — anywhere a car gets me there.
$200 for the ceremony, plus $150 for the drive, the tolls, and the emotional toll of the Cross Bronx Expressway.
$350
Anywhere with a runway. I have officiated in places I could not previously locate on a map.
My fee is $250. You cover the flight — coach is fine, I am not precious about it, just get me there upright.
$250 + airfare
Flights are booked by you or reimbursed at cost — I don't mark them up. If it requires a passport, let's talk before you send a deposit.
The vows are the part everyone remembers. The paperwork is the part that actually makes it legal, and it works roughly the same way everywhere:
Waiting periods, blood tests, and residency rules all vary by state. Find yours below for the specifics:
Tell me when, where, and to whom you intend to pledge your remaining years. I respond within a day or two, usually sooner if the venue name is delightful.