The coronation service stirred up some mixed emotions in me as an English Catholic, as I know it did for others. Having had a few days to reflect, I wanted to share some thoughts that touch on the difficulty of balancing the lingering hurt of the reformation with a sincere love for our country and our national identity.
On Saturday I watched the coronation from start to finish. Along with others I marvelled at how distinctively Catholic a service which includes a sworn declaration of Protestant faith could be. I was taken aback by the splendour of it all. The blending of Byrd and Byzantine chant with Cranmerian prayers and the music of Handel was at once both dissonant and truly catholic, reflecting the universality of our Christian faith. The beauty of the coronation service was a reminder that the good, the true, and the beautiful transcend the borders of denomination and shatter the things that divide us so that we can kneel together before God and proclaim the Kingship of his Christ, begging blessings for our earthly ruler.
The history of Christianity in these Isles is fraught and messy. I grieve when I wander the ruined grounds of Netley Abbey, or enter the precincts of the great gothic cathedrals of Winchester and Durham, or offer silent prayer in the little town Church of St Peter Port in Guernsey, and realise the scale of what was lost to the Catholic Church in those hallowed places. I sing with my fullest voice Ronald Knox’s anthem to the Martyrs ‘O English Hearts’ and beg with him a double measure of heavenly grace to win England back to the Catholic Faith. I mourn over the English reformation like the prophets mourned over the division of Israel from Judah; we were and we are brothers and sisters, torn apart by history and circumstance. We are of the same blood and yet we cannot be one.
For a long time I was an "angry" Catholic who allowed these wounds to fester, becoming grievances. I was angry about the loss and angry about the lingering anti-Catholicism in our society. There is room for righteous anger and for healthy sorrow, but it is not Christian to take that anger to lash out and condemn. I follow a Lord who said "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44) and whose last words were a prayer for those who were crucifying Him. I belong to the Church of an Apostle of that same Lord who said "Do not repay evil for evil or abuse for abuse; but, on the contrary, repay with a blessing." (1 Peter 3:9) Terrible things were done to English Catholics, and to the Church, over the past four hundred years, but the politics of grievance is un-Christian. It is as ugly in a Catholic as it is in the so-called "cancel culture" that is already threatening to tear our society apart. I have chosen honest love instead. While I pray for true unity and the conversion of souls, I also rejoice in the goodness to be found already in those for whom I pray. I rejoice when their worship and their faith reflects the truth, the goodness, and the beauty of God. I am glad when others take their first steps toward Christian faith on their account.
I love my Anglican friends. I love their genuine faith in Jesus Christ, and their sincere desire to be faithful members of His one holy Church. My friendships with Anglicans have been enriching, interesting, and life-giving. We are honest about our disagreements and differences, we have lively and enjoyable debates, but we are joyful in our similarities. Though our shared history is one marked by lingering wounds, there is healing to be had in this simple fellowship. There was also healing to be had at the coronation. At the time of the last coronation it would have been utterly unthinkable (on both sides) that a Catholic Bishop should play some part in the service, yet on Saturday the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster was invited to offer a prayer for the King, invoking the grace of God to,
keep [him] in his holy fear, prepare [him] for a happy eternity, and receive [him] at the last into immortal glory.
One of the priests I know who watched the coronation wept as a small wound of our division was healed. There is much still to heal and many difficult conversations to be had, but the simple fact of our inclusion is another positive step away from the darkness of our shared history of hatred, persecution, and grievance.
Paul, writing to the bishop Timothy, exhorts us to offer prayers especially for earthly rulers “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” (1 Tim. 2:2) Though they are often not of the same faith as us (as indeed the rulers of that age were mostly, if not entirely, pagans) we depend on their good government and just rule to afford us the freedom and stability to worship God and live according to His law. The prayer and the anthem “God save the King” is not only for those who profess (in the words of the coronation oath) “I am a faithful Protestant” but for all who want his government to guarantee them freedom to worship and to hand on their faith. It is a prayer for every Christian to offer; God save him, God defend him, God assist him, for without that saving help we all are lost. It was right and fitting for a Catholic prelate to offer these prayers, even for a "Protestant" King.
The service opened with a child welcoming our earthly ruler to his own coronation on behalf of the King of Kings. It was a thrill, awe inspiring, to hear him answer; "In his name and after his example I come not to be served but to serve." The exaltation of a man to the office of Kingship, amid all the pomp and splendour this world can offer, began with an act of humiliation; I come not to be served but to serve. The simple truth that we are all called to serve, in whatever station divine providence has allocated to us, shone more gloriously than all the baubles and shimmering robes of state combined. It was a powerful witness, and one I hope and pray will be lived out for the remainder of his reign.
God save the King!
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