God Save the King

Queen Elizabeth II died on Sept. 8 at the age of 96. She had reigned as queen for 70 years. Although several monarchies still exist, the British royal family is easily the most famous and most watched royal family. Some rightly criticize the existence of monarchies, especially in countries where they have reduced power and elected officials. Yet, the families endure. And the fascination with monarchs and royalty continues. An estimated four billion people will tune in to watch the queen’s funeral tomorrow—a funeral procession and long Anglican church service doesn’t sound like record-breaking television, but we flock to the solemn pageantry.

All the pomp and pageantry makes sense when it’s for someone beloved, when it marks stability, order, tradition. We are sad, but we are safe, it says. We mourn, but all will be well. This has happened before, and we know what to do.

I think in general people want a monarch, a caring custodian who makes right and just decisions, guides our endeavors, and protects us from our enemies. But power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. There are no benevolent dictators. The people have risen up against rulers again and again due to abuse of power and corruption. Even democracy becomes tainted by nepotism, oligarchs, and lobbyist bribes. We create systems and checks and balances to try to fight against the corruption of power. But we hold onto this idea that a good leader can emerge, that a good leader will make everything alright and bring out the best in us. We want a leader worth following.

Many don’t remember any other ruler on the British throne. Elizabeth was the monarchy. She was well-beloved, grandmotherly. She was proper and above scandal (even when those closest to her weren’t). She was what we want in a leader, one of those people who seemed above it all, wise and in control. All the pomp and pageantry makes sense when it’s for someone beloved, when it marks stability, order, tradition. We are sad, but we are safe, it says. We mourn, but all will be well. This has happened before, and we know what to do.

When someone comes along that appears to genuinely care and duty more than wealth and power, we laud her. We cling to her, carve her likeness in stone, mythologize her to serve as an example in the future. Washington, Lincoln, Churchill: flawed individuals but heralded. The legend, the hagiography, tells us good leaders can exist. So we hope. We look for the worthy. In our best days, we demand it, and leaders face just consequences for failing us.

When a good leader dies, the mourn both the person and the legend. Will someone of equal virtue step up? Will our next leader be good or bad? Was our security tied up with a larger-than-life, too-good-to-be-true figure? The pageantry comforts us, but is it true demonstration or illusion?

When we say Christ is king, we done mean another national monarch like our earthly kings, or presidents, or mayors. Christ is that monarch we want, the one who carefully oversees his land and people, who would sacrifice himself for our good, who seeks our wellness and decries accumulating wealth, and who dispenses true justice and maintains peace. So, we proclaim “Christ is king."

Wild Goose Chase

There are so many books, blogs, speakers, etc. telling us how to live the faith. So many self-proclaimed experts making a living by encouraging us that we can just need to try this advice, do these prayers, follow these steps and our spiritual lives will deepen and flourish.

I’m not saying all the advice is bad or ill-intentioned. In fact, it probably usually comes from a sincere desire to help people and share the faith. But, faith is so individualized; our journeys progress at different paces, and we require different signs and practices. We can search, but we can’t find the Spirit by following the right step-by-step instructions or attending the right conferences.

The Spirit is beyond our control. Or mine at least. Maybe there are those to have full control over when and where the Spirit moves in them. But I don’t. I cannot plan the times that touch me deeply, that linger with no words for no discernable reason. And I do try to discern.

I can travel across the world to a holy pilgrimage site, a place covered in gold and statues, steeped in centuries of people’s prayers…and not be moved. Then I can walk into a local church whose contemporary architecture and bad music I often deride for an impromptu holy hour…and find words of prayer and contemplation pouring forth. Why not there? Why now? I don’t know. Those moments rarely come with answers, just movement in my soul that lingers in my memory for years. A particular Sunday in my regular pew. A rainy afternoon in Yorkshire. A sudden realization on the highway. Stillness, comfort, confusion but gratitude. Gratitude to God making himself known, for giving me those mystical moments that defy my understanding.

I know it’s a dangerous road to try to chase that high, to try to create those holy moments. I would burn out forcing myself into settings and retreats, devouring materials trying to find the right book, right reflection, right advice that unlocks the key. There is no key. The Spirit isn’t a lock. The Spirit is a bird, free to move as he pleases and land when and where he wants. I can be open. I can be patient. I can be grateful. But I can’t control or capture.

Although most commonly depicted as a dove, the Holy Spirit has also been depicted as a wild goose. Geese are vigilant and protective. They can be disruptive. They are untamed. A wild goose chase is “a hopeless search for something that is impossible to find.” The search, in fact, is full of hope. But we are not finding the Spirit. He is finding us.

Come, Holy Spirit.

St. Nicholas of Flue

St. Nicholas of Flue was born into a wealthy family in Unterwalden, Switzerland in 1417. When he was 21 he joined the army; the cantons of Switzerland were at war at the time. He earned the reputation of a distinguished soldier. In 1447 he married a farmer’s daughter named Dorothea Wyss, and they began to farm in the alpine foothills of Lake Sarnen above Lake Lucerne.

Nicholas continued to serve in the army for seven more years. It was said he would fight with a sword in one hand and a rosary in the other. After leaving the army, he served as a councillor and judge for his canton.

One day, Nicholas received a vision of a lily being eaten by a horse, which he interpreted as his worldly pursuits devouring his spiritual life. He decided to leave everything and devote himself to contemplation. In 1467, he left his wife, their ten children, and his political duties and set up a hermitage and private chapel. (It is said that he only left after Dorothea consented.)

As a hermit, he continued to receive mystical visions. His reputation as a spiritual advisor grew, and people would travel from all over Europe to seek his wisdom. He became known as Brother Klaus. In 1470 Brother Klaus’ chapel became a place of pilgrimage along the Way of St. James.

In 1481, his piety and counsel was credited by both Catholics and Protestants with preventing another civil war between the Swiss cantons.

He still remained in touch with his family. His wife and children were by his side when he died on March 21, 1487.

During World War II, the Swiss bishops promised to make a pilgrimage to Brother Klaus’ if Switzerland was spared from the effects of the war. He became known as the spiritual savoir of Switzerland, and he was canonized in 1947.

St. Nicholas of Flue’s feast day is March 21, except in Germany and Switzerland, where it is celebrated on Sept. 25. He is the patron saint of large families, the Swiss Guard, and Switzerland.