Being a Jesus-loving pastor ought to make me at least distrustful of unearned privileges, of which the Crown is a clear symbol. The British Monarchy has what it has because of some of the worst colonial behavior the world has ever seen. The very jewels in the crown, many of which were pillaged from colonies, are symbols of arrogance, unapologetically displaying how Europeans felt themselves superior to people of color, entitled to simply take what they wanted, regardless of the oppression, violence, poverty, or chaos they left behind. This kind of monarchy ought to disgust me. (For the record, I think it’s starting to disgust some members of the Royal family too.)
So why am I near tears, as I consider the death of Elizabeth II?
Queen Elizabeth was a human being. She no more chose to be born into her family than any of us do. There are things we can control in life, and things we cannot. We can try to solve problems around us, and we should, but in solving some problems, we sometimes inadvertently create others. When someone is a Queen—a person for whom every single action is minutely scrutinized, even in a constitutional monarchy—all of her actions mattered. Every gesture, every smile, every handshake, dance, horseback ride, reception, portrait, every article of clothing, every word, every pause, chuckle, or tear—for over 70 years—every single thing mattered.
Who among us could withstand that level of examination?
Each of us can only do the best we can under the circumstances of our birth, with the gifts, and limitations God gives us. I believe Queen Elizabeth did far better than most of us would, given her situation, gifts, and limitations.
She’s been called a mother, or grandmother, to her nation, but I believe she also functioned as a pastor to her people, and at times, for the world. (Given her role as Head of the Church of England, I should probably call her priest, but that’s not my nomenclature.) We pastors are also constricted by the roles and relationships in which we find ourselves. Pastors also have privileges by virtue of our office, which we did not necessarily earn, and do not deserve. People scrutinize us, though usually not to quite the same degree. And people nearly always have opinions on what we should do or say, such that whatever we end up doing or saying, we’re bound to disappoint someone we care about. Some want pastors to be revolutionaries, to join every protest, get arrested at every march. Some of my colleagues do this, and do amazing, prophetic work. But others of us, like Elizabeth, are called to different kinds of ministry. Some of us are called to show a way forward, perhaps with a slower pace, but determined nevertheless.
There are those who long for times of a colonial past, times in which their nation showed great dominance and power. I do not believe the Queen was one of these people. But in recognizing the power she did have, she discerned that she was called to illuminate a pathway forward which was different from the history which led to her reign. Like a skilled pastor, manifesting a non-anxious presence, she gracefully navigated her way through all kinds of changes, showing people they need not worry, need not fear the other, need not fear change. As the notion of empire itself was critiqued more and more over her decades on the throne, she physically manifested a quiet revolution. During her reign, she showed the world how a crown could evolve from representing power over people, into to a symbol of service, compassion, and understanding. Rather than look down her nose at the diversity of the world like her predecessors, Queen Elizabeth delighted in diverse cultural expressions with joy. Like a skilled pastor serving a congregation around which the world is changing against their will, her calm presence provided an example of how pluralism might evolve out of a colonial past.
The world undoubtedly needs revolutionaries, people who hold up mirrors, and reveal to us the parts of ourselves we don’t want to see. But we also need pastors, people to love us in spite of our brokenness, and quietly show us how to be better.
Such is the kind of leadership to which Elizabeth was called, the kind of leadership at which she was truly exceptional. Rest in peace, Your Majesty. And well done, good, and faithful servant.
