A prayer for all of us
Knowing I’ll be asked, I’ll answer the question now. Yes, I did watch Queen Elizabeth’s funeral early on Monday morning. While I’m sure there were Episcopal priests who did not tune in, this one enjoys watching high-quality liturgy featuring choral music sung by an outstanding choir in a historic and transcendent building.
I will also confess to a lifelong enjoyment of grand state occasions. I’m not much into the royal weddings. But give me a presidential inauguration, royal coronation, episcopal consecration or a state funeral, and I am all in. While I do recognize that there are dark sides to the imperial splendor of the Queen’s funeral (the British Empire exacted a tragic and dehumanizing cost on millions of people), I can’t help but appreciate the way a nation can honor someone who has been a stable and consistent presence for multiple generations.
There were two moments during the funeral I found particularly moving. One came near the end, immediately after the playing of the "Last Post" (the British version of "Taps"). Everyone in Westminster Abbey, and countless others throughout the United Kingdom, stood silently for two minutes. Not the “moment of silence” we Americans like to observe. Two full minutes. Say what you will about the relevance of monarchy. Seeing the images on television of thousands and thousands of people standing still and silent for a woman who served them for 70 years was extraordinary. They stood in silence not because she had any real power, but because she lived with authority and integrity.
The second moment came earlier in the funeral at the conclusion of the prayers read by various church and political leaders. The final collect was a prayer written by John Donne (1572-1631), the English poet and priest best known today for writing “No man is an island entirely of itself. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”
Bring us, O Lord God, at our last awakening into the house and gate of heaven, to enter into that gate and dwell in that house, where there shall be no darkness nor dazzling, but one equal light; no noise nor silence, but one equal music; no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession; no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity: in the habitations of thy majesty and glory, world without end. Amen.
This is not a prayer for a queen. It is a prayer for all of us. Strip away the grandeur of Westminster Abbey. Take away the traditional dress uniforms of the military personnel. Leave the fancy clerical vestments in their closets. Silence the choir singing transcendent music. Remove the imperial crown, orb and scepter from the casket. And all we’re left with is Elizabeth, a child of God who is offered the same promise you and I receive by the grace and love of God in Christ: one equal light, one equal music, one equal possession and one equal eternity.