In a moment, Queen Elizabeth will be holding both the Royal Sceptre and the Rod of Mercy and Equity in her grasp. She will be fixed and transfixed by the power she holds in her hands, the power to bless and protect. Others wear crowns and coronets, others are brilliantly clothed, others wear robes and mantles and sparkling jewels, but only the Queen sits enthroned with double-fisted authority.
Today, all that authority is vested by the people and worked out in Parliament. Yet, by the people's choice, warrants and medals are issued in her name. Warriors fight and postal workers deliver the mail in her name. They choose to honor and respect Her Majesty’s majesty. Very little of what she does, very little, comes of her own volition, but everything she does issues from theirs. Remarkably, she has much less power than an American President, though he may wish he had nearly as much influence.
Before those Rods are delivered from the Altar, as has been done from antiquity, she receives a Glove. Lord Woolton, one of the newest peers at that time, came and knelt before Elizabeth and presented to her a glove for her right hand, the symbol of the abolished Danegeld. This glove reminds her, even in such a glorious moment, superlative beyond measure, to have a gentle hand in taxation. The barons of old had kept their place in the Coronation in perpetuity, reminding the Monarch that without their supervision, their management of lands and lakes and laborers, there would be no England over which to rule.
The amazing thing, when we consider it, is that the Monarchy has kept this part of the ceremony alive. Not all rulers have been as wise as Elizabeth. Some of old have taxed the people into penury and despair.
We all, in Cor Unum, reign over some small patch of earth and some tiny pocket of people, be they three-year-olds or five-star financial conglomerates. If we “reign” in the majesty of our Lord's Majesty, it will be felt, and sometimes what we DO NOT ASK of others will tell our tale.