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.
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