In the small hours of 6 February 1952, King George VI died. Half a world away, Princess Elizabeth became Queen in her sleep while staying in a treetop hotel in Kenya.
If pushed, I suppose I’m a pragmatic monarchist. However, there’s little doubt this Platinum Jubilee is a profound moment for the country: to reflect on what has changed during the last seventy years, much of it for the better; to acknowledge in troubled political times the Queen’s example of public service, and of faithfulness in an increasingly secular age; and, no doubt, to have a party or two as we attempt to emerge from the pandemic.
The Bible has a complex relationship with kingship. Israel is discouraged from having a king, as to do so would tempt her away from living under God’s sovereignty. Saul, David, and Solomon give the Old Testament some of its most memorable and profound stories, but the kingdom disintegrates into faction, injustice and exile. In the Gospels, Jesus proclaims a Kingdom contrasted with the parody monarchy of the Herodians or the brutal reality of the Roman Empire. Pilate is baffled by kingship that apparently doesn’t have soldiers. The journey ends perhaps with the Good Friday crowd shouting that they have no king but Caesar. It is, of course, the same journey each of us makes when we – inevitably – give something other than God our obedience and loyalty.
Of which kind of kingdom shall we be citizens? Bad news, folks: it is a choice already made for us at our baptism. Let’s celebrate the Jubilee, and let’s give thanks for Elizabeth and her example. But our lasting allegiance is to another King and to a different Country. His Kingdom is not from this world and the world’s notions of power and control. He has thorns for a crown and the cross for a throne. The King of kings and Lord of lords.
Chris Braganza
