God save the King!
As I write, the country is gripped by Coronation fever. I say gripped – for a large number of people, mention of the Coronation is accompanied by eye-rolling and a loud yawn. One of our young people told me that the event is entirely irrelevant to them. As a balance, another said how much they’re looking forward to it. I am struck by the peculiar combination of tradition, sentimentality and soap opera which characterises the British relationship with our royal family.
The anthem ‘Zadok the Priest’ was written by George Handel for the Coronation of King George II in 1727, and it has been used at every Coronation since. It has a tremendously long introduction, which builds up very gradually from quiet strings to a belting choral entry. As a small child, my dad would sit me on his knee, put the record on, and we’d sing along to this introduction, which we called ‘Deedle-deedle’ (if you listen to it, you’ll understand). As an infant, it felt like this lasted for about a month – it was very exciting (the 1970s were simpler times!). So on Coronation day I will undoubtedly hear this piece and shed a tear thinking of my dad.
I do not think I am alone in feeling sentimental. The royal family has a peculiar pull for many of the British public; we feel like we know them. The publicity barrage around Prince Harry’s book Spare has taken full advantage of this. In fact, some are arguing that his lifting of the curtain of privacy to give his dirty family linen a very thorough public airing has both humanised the key players – they have stand-up rows just like us, apparently – and demeaned them. Simultaneously the allegations against Prince Andrew have caused him and his family enormous reputational damage. The idea of the royal family as our betters seems very outdated in this climate.
The Coronation represents a lot of things that the UK does well: pageantry, tradition, rituals whose significance is slightly lost on a 21st-century audience. Since we have not done this since 1953, there’s a lot that most of us have never seen before, and those who were around then were very young. At the centre of the ceremony is the anointing of the King and Queen Consort. This involves a large screen, a lot of oil and a 12th-century ceremonial spoon. It’s the most private part of the event, and will not be seen by the congregation nor televised for the audience at home. There’s something peculiarly British about the fact that a spoon is a central part of the day: cup of tea, anybody? For anyone who loves a fun fact, the Coronation provides hundreds. The spoon in question is one of the few royal artifacts to survive the overthrow of the monarchy after the English Civil War. Not bad for something we are unlikely to see on the big day.
Anointing with oil is a tradition which dates back to the oldest parts of the Bible. Oil was poured over the head of someone who was being set apart by God for a particular role. At our Coronation All-Together service on Sunday 7 May, we’ll be thinking about the anointing of David as Israel’s King. God took the prophet Samuel to the town of Bethlehem and the household of Jesse, telling him that he had chosen one of his sons to be the new King. As Samuel went along the line of Jesse’s sons, God told him it wasn’t the oldest, or the second, or in fact any of the ones in front of him, but the youngest – the one who was so insignificant that his father had left him to look after the sheep rather than presenting him to the prophet. The message (spoiler alert!): God does not look at who’s the oldest, the richest or the tallest. He looks at the heart.
King Charles III has had the longest apprenticeship in the history of the British monarchy. Again, we feel like we know him. We know the causes he’s passionate about: the environment, young people who are being left behind, architecture. We know rather too much about his personal life, because of the intrusive nature of our press and its journey with him, Princess Diana and Queen Camilla. As our new King moves on from his Coronation, there are predictable conversations starting about whether the royal family is fit for purpose in the 21st century; matters which did not feel appropriate to broach during the late Queen’s lifetime. Can it really be right that one family has such privilege, such wealth, such access to soft power? Charles, Andrew and Harry have given us windows into what their lives are really like, and the burden this puts on them. The Netflix series The Crown has invited us to reflect on what life in the centre of this peculiar bubble must feel like. The public is entitled to ask whether the Windsors are the right people to represent modern Britain.
Even with such a public role, there is much about the King which has been ignored, and (like both his parents) this includes his Christian faith. Alongside his more famous causes, he has been a longstanding champion of persecuted Christians throughout the world. In all the coverage of the Coronation, we should not expect to hear anything meaningful about faith, the spiritual significance of the service or Charles’s personal approach to being head of the Church of England. Our mass media has few Christians working in it; TV and newspaper coverage will steer away from these issues, because commentators do not feel confident to discuss them. People of faith will do well to engage with the content of the service: what is said about God, about Jesus, about calling, service and leadership. Will awkward things be said about who is ‘Lord’ of our country? The Coronation puts the Christian faith at the heart of the British state. Again, the public may wonder whether this is appropriate in a society where only 3% of people attend church each Sunday. Does it help or hinder Christian mission to be woven into our establishment in this way? As you talk to people about the Coronation, how can you hold out the hope that you have, that you share with His Majesty?
Since the Brexit referendum in 2016, our country has been going through turbulent times. As our new King is crowned, we face questions about his sovereignty and our country’s future with him. What does it mean for the monarchy to offer us stability, when we face such unstable times politically, both at home and worldwide? Here is the answer for the Christian believer: you will never find true stability in any human institution. The very best monarch is still a sinner in need of a saviour; whatever their status in human terms, they are just like us in the end. While Christians pray for our leaders here in the United Kingdom, the kingdom we seek is the one we pray for when we say, ‘Your kingdom come’.