Jubilee Sermon, Bangor Cathedral, Tuesday, 11th June, 2002
Casual carol singers at the doors of Buckingham Palace are probably a bit of a rarity; but for those of us who hear them more regularly, one of the most familiar items is some sort of version of 'We wish you a merry Christmas'. The very experienced carol singer (that is, the one who knows more than one line of 'Away in a manger') will cheerfully shout out, 'Good tidings we bring, For you and your king' in between the repetitions of the chorus - a slightly strange sentiment, but who's really bothering with the words anyway?
Inside the house, we well educated Christians all know - don't we? -that it should be,' For you and your kin'. But it's a lost cause, and we sigh and dig into our pockets for our 50p and forget it all till next year. But if you're wondering why we should be turning to such unseasonal thoughts in the middle of June, it's just because of this happy accident of a near-identity between two words, which might suggest some more seasonal thoughts for today's happy occasion.
'King' and 'kin': originally, indeed, the words were related. The Anglo-Saxon cyning was precisely a 'member of the kindred' or 'son of the kindred'; a person who represented the links between members of the tribe. It's curious that we, with most of the Germanic-speaking peoples, should have stuck with this word and avoided the Latinate words that concentrate on rule and domination. And throughout the history of monarchy, you could say, there has always been this tension between a model of domination and a model of representation, speaking and standing for the 'kindred'. It's there already in the Old Testament: there are warnings about a monarchy that will exploit and pauperise the people (unhappy memories of King Solomon); and there are joyful hymns for the king, celebrating his role as the leader of the people's worship as well as their warfare; and, even more important, there are psalms for the king to recite on behalf of a suffering people. He speaks for their common destiny - their shared call to worship God and their shared experience of pain and defeat.
Christianity makes it quite clear which model is central. Christ the King is the one who speaks for the whole human kindred, speaks for its fear and suffering, even for its guilt, by the unique miracle of his identification with us. And he is the one who leads and animates our worship, leading us to the eternal Father. He is king because he has earned the right to speak for us all; and in his speaking he confirms and deepens the kinship between us. He exercise his royal authority in extending further and further the bonds of human togetherness, so that we can no longer take for granted that some persons or groups or nations are doomed to be forever strangers.
And this gospel vision has gradually soaked through the exercise of monarchy in many Christian cultures. The whole meaning of an anointing for ministry at the coronation; the Maundy ceremonies; the elusive but powerful mediaeval tradition of thinking of the monarch as both the first layperson of the Church and a sort of 'deacon' in the Church. - all this expresses what it is that matters in monarchy when executive power and military might have receded into the background. The Christian monarch is one who shares Christ's royal vocation of building and speaking for a kindred.
But not just a tribal kindred. For centuries, the British monarch has presided over a multiplicity of 'tribes', bound together not by ethnic solidarity but by common loyalty to this personal focus for the common life. And in our lifetimes, the role of the British monarch has become inseparable from the vision of the British Commonwealth; our Queen has given the greatest priority to the building and maintaining of kinship among the diverse cultures and races represented in this family of free nations; and the vision expressed in the Commonwealth has remained a strong and coherent moral benchmark, intolerant of oppression (as in the days of apartheid), working for real mutual accountability. A great part of what we give thanks for today is this consistent, courageous labour for the sake of creating a true kindred across the globe - enabling us in these nations here in Britain to learn more of what it is to live constructively in a variegated and changing society. Christians, who know something of what transforming kingly presence means for the whole human race, will be able to recognise and celebrate the echo of true kingship that we see in our Queen's work for the human kindred.
'Good tidings we bring, For you and your kin': yes, the good news of Christ's coming makes possible new levels of belonging together in the human world; our 'kin' is a far odder and larger community than we could ever have expected. But good news as well, after all, for you and your king. Come back, carol singers, all is forgiven! Christ's kingship revealed in the mysteries of Christmas and Easter calls all of us, people and monarch, to make the good news real and effective in the task of turning strangers into kindred, who can speak with and for each other, suffer with each other, sing with each other to God. And today we joyfully thank God for one response, consistent, committed, loving and untiring, to this calling; for one life in which kingship and kinship have been so interwoven. Our task is to rededicate ourselves to that same calling; and we do so with more heart and energy because of the good news shown us in a faithful response to the heavenly calling. Good tidings for you, we trust, Your Majesty, when we say that you have been good tidings for us; and we wish you - let's finally put the carol singers out of our minds - not a merry Christmas and a happy new year, but many more years of peace, devoted service, and the knowledge of the gratitude of kingdom and Commonwealth.