The founding principle of the Universal Life Church, which was begun in 1959 in Modesto, California, by a renegade Baptist minister, is that the legal and social privileges traditionally enjoyed by men of the cloth—the right to perform marriages among them—should be available to all. To that end, the church has enrolled more than eighteen million ministers, many of them since the advent of the Internet, which has made becoming a legally ordained minister easier than placing an order with FreshDirect. A basic ministerial package from the church, which includes a certificate with gold seal, suitable for framing, costs ten dollars; for an additional five dollars, U.L.C. ministers can apply for one of about a hundred and fifty religious titles, including Cardinal, Lama, Reverend Mother, Swami, Magus, Martyr, Goddess, Angel, or Apostle of Humility.
It comes as little surprise to learn that John Waters—who in 1986 was nominated by William Burroughs, free of charge, as the Pope of Trash—is one of the eighteen million. “I did it when we were making ‘Cry-Baby,’ because at the time Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder were going to be married, and Johnny’s lawyers asked me to be ordained,” Waters explained the other day over breakfast—half a poppy-seed bagel, with lox spread—at his apartment in Greenwich Village. “I think Winona and Johnny wanted to add a twist to it. I met her parents. I met his parents.” That wedding never took place, but Waters has gone on to perform thirteen ceremonies; the most recent was last summer, near his house in Provincetown. “I have only one divorce out of thirteen,” he said. “But I try not to do it too much anymore. People want me to write witty ceremonies, which I don’t do now. I let them write it. And I charge seven dollars, in cash, and report it on my tax return. They have to give me correct change.”
This week, Waters appears in a new comedy series entitled “’Til Death Do Us Part,” on Court TV. Each episode charts the progress of a couple’s romance from the altar to the courthouse, where, several years later, one spouse is accused of murdering the other. The cases are based on real couples, and, in a macabre framing device, Waters appears each week as a narrator called the Groom Reaper. “This is a pro-divorce show,” Waters explained. “The viewer might have wanted to kill his wife right before this show, because who hasn’t? That’s why I am single. Someone thought up an ad campaign for the show—‘Stay single and stay alive’—which I love.” Waters, whose pied-à-terre has one bedroom and is decorated entirely in shades of dark green, with Venetian blinds permanently drawn, has never even lived with a partner, let alone considered legalizing any of his unions. “I always thought the privilege of being gay is that we don’t have to get married or go in the Army,” he said. “I personally have no desire to imitate a fairly corny, expensive heterosexual tradition, though I certainly know gay couples who are married who should be. I am all for it. I have always joked that the growth industries are gay divorce and tattoo removal.”
In spite of his occasional willingness to play the ministerial role, Waters says that he hates going to weddings. “I am hoping that one of the best things that will happen if this show is a success is that people will stop inviting me,” he said. “Weddings are never fun. You cannot have that much fun with your friends and your family all together, spending that much money. You are putting an unfair burden on your romance by imagining that this ridiculous Hallmark-greeting-card love thing is actually going to work. I don’t understand the whole process: the poor girl has to go out and buy, with her own money, some dress that she will never wear again; you go out with the man the night before and he is allowed to get blow jobs from hookers. It seems to me that’s a reason to break up with someone, not to marry him. And the idea that it’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life? I had a big sixtieth-birthday party. What’s the difference? You pay for a big party and you have fun at it. But I didn’t expect that it was going to make me fifty again.”
