To live through the 70 year reign of Elizabeth II is to have been protected from the worst of the earthquakes when the tectonic plates of history begin to move. Her steady, reassuring presence has been part of our lives through good times and bad and it seems completely impossible that she is no longer with us.
Our present digital age means that today’s visual consumption of history is greater than at any time since the days when stained glass and illuminated manuscripts fed our imaginations and populated our dreams.
This week the news has given us powerful pictures of the hearse leaving Balmoral, driving up the Royal Mile, being walked off the plane at Northolt and slowly returning the Queen to Buckingham Palace.
Every day a new image sears itself into our memory: the King’s sister faithfully accompanying her mother on the long journey south, the young princes walking once again behind the coffin, the stoic vigil of the Queen’s family as the public walk by…
The imagery has been iconic, powerful and all about death.
And death and dying are not things we are very good at talking about, as a nation. So, perhaps I should begin this sermon by asking: how are you doing? How is your heart, at this time of national mourning?
I talked to one University student this week who said that the past few years of living through history was like being in a permanent state of readiness: and when I asked how she was doing, she said that she was feeling very, very tired.
Emotion does that to you, of course. And so does grief.
There is an intensity about living through history, isn’t there? A spiritual intensity which the great mystics understood; it is about living in the moment and inhabiting it deeply. Watching, waiting, taking it all in and knowing that all these things will be ‘written on your heart’, far into the future (Romans 2.12).
You can see it in the people who went straight to Buckingham Palace when news of her death broke, or those who have travelled to be part of the great queue, or to line the route of the funeral cortege.
For the rest of us, it can leave us feeling a little bewildered and raw at the edges. I recall hearing the words of Joe Biden and Emmanuel Macron last week, offering condolences to the people of Britain and I felt comforted. Yes, I thought, I am grieving and strangely it helped to know that people were thinking of our country.
There is a vulnerability about living through history and one of the wonderful things about this time is the way people are seeking the solace of community. We have witnessed it at the Cathedral this week: people are not rushing around, there is a slowness of pace and a desire to stop and talk to people in the street. The friendships started in the great queue in London are quite remarkable when you consider how reserved we normally are.
It seems that her Majesty has given us a number of gifts in dying, as she did in living.
Quite apart from the wonder of having an elderly woman as the head of church and state, she has always led by example. Indeed, her commitment to leadership as service was an embodiment of our Gospel today.
This week, the newscasters have given us so many shared memories of encounters with her. Somehow, often in a matter of seconds, the Queen was able to make people feel valued and understood. She asked open questions, she seemed interested in our lives, she had great compassion.
People have also spoken about how she had the right words at the right time. Personally, I still find that hearing her Covid message to the nation makes me tearful.
The only way this is possible is if you are not locked up behind the walls of palaces, if you care enough about people to listen to their stories and if you use every opportunity you have, to make life better for the sick and the marginalised.
Of course, she was privileged, of course she came from a different age of colonialism and class; but through faith Queen Elizabeth also showed us that there is a way of being human which is completely timeless.
St Francis was the saint famous for saying that when we preach the Good News, we should only use words if necessary. The Queen was living proof that you can preach Jesus Christ with your actions and the way you live your life.
Indeed, the Gospels are full of stories which relay this truth. Jesus taught his disciples by showing them that the Kingdom of God is coming near. God’s Kingdom is characterised by a call to repentance steeped in forgiveness and compassion; Jesus offers us a way to flourish in the love of God and to find fulfilment in the arms of God.
The challenge which the Queen has left us, is that we should ask ourselves how we are living out this Gospel today? What are we doing in our daily lives to listen to those nearest to us, to ask open questions and not to judge? How are we loving those who come into our lives, how are we making them feel valued and understood? What are we doing to help them ask the deep questions and orientate their lives – and ours – towards God?
When Jesus knelt down to wash the feet of his disciples, he told them he was giving them a new commandment: that they love one another as he had loved them. If they lived a life of love for others, then people would know that they were his disciples (John 13).
Queen Elizabeth was a woman of wealth and status/ whose values were simple and accessible to everyone: her kindness and integrity based on the life of Jesus. And we can see that it is a way of life which fulfilled her deeply. So, another gift she has given us is to remind us of the deep fulfilment which comes from serving one another.
Jesus said, ‘Love one another as I have loved you … and by this they will know you are my disciples.’
Kindness, openness, compassion and care. This is what service to one another looks like. This is our Christian mission and our Christian life. Kindness, openness, compassion and care.
In a time of national mourning and in remembrance of our beloved Queen, may we commit today to living these values out in our own lives.
Amen.
