Oh, to be
glad! To be glad when the alarm clock
goes off, glad when it’s raining and when the sun is shining, and glad when we
put our heads on our pillows at night.
The monastic
has every reason to be glad, for she is living the life she chose, the one she
wanted for herself. But … what
about the monarch?
Elizabeth II
did not chose her life, and as we have said, it looked as though she might be forty
or fifty years old before that life caught up with her, before the rigors of
reigning would be hers. Instead, at the
tender age of twenty-five, she was Queen.
Whether we in
Cor Unum are entering our twenties or leaving our seventies, we would be GLAD
that majesty has come to us. Elizabeth’s
came through birth and through death, and so has ours.
She entered
the nave on that coronation day, and all the work of architects and carpenters
and designers had turned it into a stage, with golden carpet and a raised dais
for the throne. This team of producers
knew that people would want to SEE her, and so it has been for these many years
since.
By now the
choir was proclaiming, “Vivat! Vivat
Regina Elizabetha! Vivat! Vivat!
Vivat!”, and the sound of their exclamation was even more thrilling than
all that had gone before. “Live! “Live, Queen Elizabeth! Live!”
It was a shout, enough to make the hair on one’s neck stand up, even
today. For the last time ever in her
life, Elizabeth bowed, north, south, east, and west, to the will of her people,
her acknowledgement that she would reign and serve, and for her it was with
gladness of heart and the fullness of duty.
Her
countenance was absolutely solemn all during the ceremony, which was to her a
religious procedure, as it was meant to be, but she has been smiling ever
since, learning to be more generous with her smiles, which are
electrifying. Let us take a lesson from
her today, and may we embrace our duty with gladness and rejoice, for like
Ezekial’s bones, Someone has spoken over us, “Live! Live!”
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