Sacred and Profane

The recent obliteration of HRH the Duke of York has not exactly been a surprise.  Ever since Randy Andy made the carelessness of his enthusiasms clear in his youth, I imagine the Lolita Express had just been waiting to bear him on plastic wings to the private islands of rich public figures such as (the late) Jeffrey Epstein.  The royal Icarus should have known better than to do what he did, and then get photographed with Ghislaine Maxwell - not to mention with the girl concerned as well.  But times have changed.  Not even the prime minister of the United Kingdom can have rowdy parties in the back garden of No.10 Downing Street during lockdowns, not to mention on the day just before Prince Philip's funeral as well.  

I have always thought that the monarchy was a specifically religious, indeed Christian, institution.  The colour film of the Coronation left a remarkable impression on me after I had seen it as a small boy, and a good deal of that impression remains with me still all these years later.  I also presume to think that the Queen herself would agree.  The anointing of the Sovereign is a sacramental act which imparts grace to the one anointed.  It is, in fact, much the same in that respect as the ordination of a bishop, priest, or deacon.
How strange that sounds now!  This is the age of Happy Holidays! it seems.  The sacred has been banished from much of our public life - or perhaps worse (if the various fundamentalisms of our time are anything to go by).  The Christian religion is about a transcendent reality from which the reality we know here and now derives its meaning and even its very existence.  An anointed sovereign should remind of this, and thus remind us that our secular life should be sacred too.  But don't hold your breath.  Jerusalem wasn't built in a day.