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‘No man is an Iland’ – so famously wrote the poet John Donne, former Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, in ‘Meditation 17’, of his book, ‘Devotions upon Emergent Occasions’.  This was written in December 1623, as Donne recovered from a serious illness, having come close to death.

‘No man is an Iland’ – today we might also want to say, ‘No woman is an Iland’ – ‘intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine… therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee’.

[https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-man-is-an-island/]

I accidentally slipped into the live-stream of the Queen’s Lying in State late one evening, and it was strangely compelling.  This seemingly endless stream of humanity, filing past the Queen’s coffin, each having a moment to pause, to bow, to make the sign of the Cross, or just to keep moving.

And then the pause every twenty minutes, as the officers keeping vigil very solemnly changed the guard.

The scenes inside Westminster Hall were very different from those outside, where the enormous queue, stretching back to Southwark Park – where at one point there was a queue outside the gates to join the queue, apparently dubbed the ‘Queuey Two’ – the enormous queue snaked its way along the Thames, and strangers became friends, stories were exchanged, and emotions shared.

Even David Beckham waited for 13 hours, providing added excitement during what might have seemed to be long hours, but seemed to have passed quickly for people.  One person commented, ‘She was our Queen.  She served us for 70 years.  This is the least we could do’.

And here, all day and until 8.00 every evening this week, we have had people passing through the Cathedral, with a whole range of emotions and reasons for coming, all touched in some way by the Queen’s death, and feeling a need to do something, or to come somewhere, to process what is going on inside them.  We have had a wonderful group of lay and ordained Chaplains available to listen, to talk, to offer prayer and presence, and it has been a huge privilege to be alongside people of all ages in this way.

‘No one is an Island’.  Millions of people, in this country and across the world, have been deeply and emotionally affected by the Queen’s death, often rather inexplicably to themselves.

For so many people, the Queen’s death has touched a nerve, found its way into a long-buried spot, where grief has resided, uninspected, forgotten, ignored, but still present.

Many who came here this week have talked about their parents, or their grandparents, somehow linking their memory with the life and reign of the Queen – for the majority of us, she is the only Monarch we have known.

Both of our readings this afternoon reflect on grief in one way or another.

In Isaiah 25, the grief is promised to have an end, as the Lord restores the land to the people of Israel: ‘He will swallow up death for ever.  Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces’ [Is. 25:7b-8a].

And in the Book of Revelation, in the context of the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven, we are told that ‘God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away’ [Rev. 21:3b-4].

There is a promised end to grief, when all things are swept up in God’s love and presence, but we are ill-advised to rush too quickly to that end – grief has to be worked through, not skipped over.

In this time of national grief, we need to keep an eye on our own experiences of grief, and, as we reflect on the life of the Queen, take time to reflect on the lives of those who have been special to us, and whom we still miss.

The mourning in the Royal Household is continue for another seven days after Tuesday’s National Mourning ends.  I hope the Royal Family find time for their own grieving, time to be with each other, time to look back with thanksgiving for the mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, family member that she was, to feel the love and prayers of the nation in their personal grief, and to know God’s presence with them at this difficult time.

This advice, in a poem by Andy Raine, called ‘Walking with Grief’, is, I hope, good advice for them, and good advice for us.

Do not hurry

as you walk with grief;

it does not help the journey.

Walk slowly,

pausing often:

do not hurry

as you walk with grief.

Be not disturbed

by memories that come unbidden.

Swiftly forgive;

and let Christ speak for you

unspoken words.

Unfinished conversation

will be resolved in Him.

Be not disturbed.

Be gentle with the one

who walks with grief.

If it is you,

be gentle with yourself.

Swiftly forgive;

walk slowly,

pausing often.

Take time, be gentle

as you walk with grief.