By the time you’re 33 and you’ve flown solo at more weddings than you can count, the idea of spending a Sunday morning attending three of them is about as appealing as a nude December dip in the Gowanus Canal.

Yet that’s exactly what I did last weekend, along with some 1,300 other New Yorkers.

None of us knew a single bride or groom. No one brought a gift. Yet there we were, packed into the pews of an Upper East Side synagogue, crying as the newlyweds exchanged vows and smashed glasses under the huppah.

Our tears were not just for the couples’ obvious love for each other, as palpable as it was, or because the brides looked stunning in gowns given to them by Kleinfeld Bridal, though they did.

Those tears were also because the ritual was more than a wedding: It was a moment of proud political defiance for three couples who can’t or won’t marry in the state they call home. It just so happens that the state is the world’s only Jewish one.