Earlier today, the UK and the British Commonwealth of Nations—in fact, the whole world—witnessed the first coronation of a British monarch in 70 years. With the rest of my family here, in Canada, I woke up at an ungodly hour to watch the historic event. I was initially expecting all the pomp and circumstance that characterises such occasions, but in fact I found something much richer than that. (Truth be told, I thought there was more “pomp” and “circumstance” at the late Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral.) So, what do I make of King Charles III’s coronation? What did I find so moving about it?

Sacraments are commonly said to be outward and visible signs of an inward and invisible grace. Leaving aside the complexities of what this means, I’ll say only that what the world saw yesterday was sacramental in this way: the coronation of our new monarch left me with the feeling of how heavy it is to wear the crown—a “crown of thorns,” like the Archbishop of Canterbury said—what the true and ideal nature of kingship is: loving service to others.

The readings for the coronation were quite fitting to this theme. Each had something to do with an identification of Christ’s kingship—one of service to humanity—with the task put before Charles as he took the coronation oath. The Archbishop reminded us of how this is what Charles is called to, and I thought it was quite a sobering reminder for a world in which royals are treated almost like celebrities, and where leaders often appear as anything but the “public servants” that they claim to be. Consider the first words the King spoke at his coronation:

In his name and after his example I come not to be served but to serve.

From the Coronation Order of Service (2023)

Of course, whose name and example the King is speaking of is that of Jesus, who fulfilled Isaiah’s prophecy when he proclaimed:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to
preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted,
to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty them that are bruised,

A reading from Luke’s Gospel as read at the Coronation of King Charles III

Whatever one thinks of the monarchy itself, the occasion was a reminder of what leadership ought to be: rooted in the gospel values of humility, service, and love for all mankind. This is the ideal of the kingship that Charles now bears, and which every leader ought to bear.

As I said, it’s not too often that the world witnesses a British coronation, or a coronation in general. Instead, for the most part, all we see are investitures or someone being “sworn in” to a political office, perhaps making a promise on some holy book of their choosing. This is all well and good, but it doesn’t compare to the meaning of the ritual that we see here. After all, one does not simply find this theme of humble service to others from the Gospel readings, which can be spoken at any time of day, nor from the oaths that he takes, but also in the fabric of the liturgy itself. The model of a King in “loving service to others” is acted out (at least for a period).

The King walks in adorned in all kinds of luxurious (though probably uncomfortable) robes, as one would expect of someone of his social status. But then, just before his anointing, although it is not visible to most of those in attendance, these robes are removed until he is left wearing only a shirt, at which time he is anointed in oil. It is a moment in the ceremony when he is completely removed from the presence of all except the ministers of the oil (in this case, the Archbishop of Canterbury), and so it is a moment for him to privately reflect on his role as King in the presence of God. After the anointing, he kneels before the altar of God and prays for a while before being invested with a bright gold tunic. He also receives various items with their own symbolic meaning that relate to the way in which he ought to govern his “temporal kingdom”. When this is finished, the Archbishop proclaims: “God save The King!”

I’m very thankful to have watched this affair on TV rather than in the Church because I got to see all of this. It was as if I saw the verse “he that shall humble himself shall be exalted” (Matt. 23:12) come to life. Consider the order in which these things occurred: the King walks in with all the pomp and ego the State can afford before he finds himself in the unflattering position of being surrounded by aristocrats wearing nothing but a loose-fitting shirt! It is only after being reminded of the Gospel-model for Kingship and this humbling experience of being made bare in comparison to everyone else that he is invested and (officially) crowned King. There is a movement from highness to lowliness before the final exaltation of him as King.

It was a pretty remarkable ceremony for many other reasons—the ecumenical spirit, the choice of music, the antics of little Prince Louis that so amused my grandmother—but this is why I felt so moved by it.

It’s also worth remembering that this is something we ourselves are invited to imitate, for as the Archbishop of Canterbury said in the beginning:

We are gathered to offer worship and praise to Almighty God; to celebrate the life of our nations; to pray for Charles, our King; to recognise and to give thanks for his life of service to this Nation, the Realms, and the Commonwealth; and to witness with joy his anointing and crowning, his being set apart and consecrated for the service of his people. Let us dedicate ourselves alike, in body, mind, and spirit, to a renewed faith, a joyful hope, and a commitment to serve one another in love.

From the Coronation Order of Service (2023)

So, while I hope we enjoy the celebrations that this historic day has to offer, I also hope that we take a moment to reflect on these themes and perhaps dedicate ourselves in this way, and that we continue to see and live this ideal in this new reign of King Charles III. God save the King!