Thor sings "Ave Maria" and the whole place, statuary back in position, is done up with Christmas lights. I don't know if there's a point beyond the humor of seeing semi-tacky white x-mas lights crowning the Blessed Virgin, but it's good enough as-is. The place looks lovely, and Thor's singing is pretty/funny, too. The whole thing is so sad and lame and ramshackle; the ambulance guys are all in costume and the bride isn't showing.
Jackie finally admits to Eleanor that the bride will never show, and then slowly moseys up to the altar to take Coop aside. She assures him sweetly that he doesn't look like an idiot; she even gives him the credit for restoring the chapel and putting the first smile of all time on Gloria's face.
Coop: "No one's ever going to wanna marry me."
Jacob: Time and place. Could do better, will probably do worse.
Jackie, still being oddly awesome: "Not true."
Gloria: Thanks him for the statues.
Zoey gives him a tiny present for his birthday. The smallest stuffed koala in the world, no bigger than a thumb.
Zoey: "It's from all of us."
They wheel in the wedding cakes, which are now birthday cakes, and sing to him. It's always nice to see an asshole get a little compassion. It's probably essential. Everybody's got a birthday. It's a world of birthdays out there.
It is absolutely one of my favorite things in a story, when people realize that Michael Scott or Roger Sterling are as close to the edge as they really always are, and they're able to momentarily forgive the distance and draw him close, and sing. I think you get more out of a scene like that -- everybody rushing into this void to sing to Fitch Cooper, who they hate -- than most anything else. I don't think anybody is proud, not even to say conscious sometimes, of their deepest flaws. I think everybody is usually doing the best they can. I think that probably this is a fact that we could stand to remember, much more than we do: Mostly we do the best we can.
Other people are no more a part of your larger problem than a broken taillight, and the reason for this is firstly because nobody cares enough to really come after you, but mostly it's because there is no larger problem. That kind of simplification is usually laziness, or exhaustion: The fact remains that all we ever really have are small problems that add up to the unmovable mountain.