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Queen Elizabeth II (1926 – 2022) was the world’s most prominent Christian leader, and perhaps the most faithful person to lead a nation.
More than the pope — her reign saw seven of them — she was a constant presence in Christian life in Britain, at Church and in prayer.
She showed by example, leading ceremonies of national remembrance and addressing the nation and the Commonwealth at Christmas.
We all also knew her to be a regular churchgoer.
Her death leaves an enormous void for believers everywhere.
The optics of her position were wealth and glamour, but the philosophy which underpinned her approach to monarchy was a very quiet Christian humility.
In this, she was rather more like Pope Francis — that other great Christian figurehead of our time — than casual observers have imagined.
“For me”, Queen Elizabeth said in her 2014 Christmas message, “the life of Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, is an inspiration and an anchor in my life. A role model of reconciliation and forgiveness, he stretched out his hands in love, acceptance, and healing.”
Aged 21, she made this highly personal and very Christian commitment on radio: “I declare before you all that my whole life whether it be long or short shall be devoted to your service.”
Sadly, she was called to make this promise good just five years later when her father, King George VI, died an untimely and much-lamented death.
Queen Elizabeth personified Christian virtue for the next seven decades.
She was constant; she was reliable; she was indefatigable, unstuffy, unshowy, and uncomplaining. She never demanded gratitude but toiled on regardless.
And she displayed an intense commitment to God, which inspired her to find ways to embody values cherished by the British people.
A thousand photographers
waited in earnest
for a sign of annoyance, exasperation,
arrogance, vanity, or aloofness.
And yet, in years and years and years,
none came.
She would not abdicate because she believed such an act would have violated her oath to a Higher Power.
She was queen for life because she had been anointed.
Her forbearance in the face of failing health and old age has therefore been one of the past decade’s most visible outward signs of unwavering Christian faith.
Queen Elizabeth’s crown may not have been one of thorns, but its burden was nevertheless still barbed and weighty.
A thousand photographers waited in earnest for a sign of annoyance, exasperation, arrogance, vanity, or aloofness. And yet, in years and years and years, none came.
The Queen was true to her word and was loved and admired for it.
Even at the end, she was still at her dutiful best, pushing past her obvious frailty on Tuesday to meet with politicians to arrange a change of British government.
She never complained; she never explained.
Her ethic was of the kind often referred to as Stoic — and Christianity certainly absorbed aspects of it from Greek philosophy. But this was also the ethic present in Christ’s Passion.
Queen Elizabeth’s life became its own very modern sort of Passion play, in which one person was identified with the sins of a nation.
Britain’s Original Sin has come to be seen as that of Empire, a formation of which Her Majesty had begun her reign as public face.
Yet she bore the opprobrium that her nation’s imperial legacy attracted with grace and humour.
More importantly, still, she sought to construct something positive from the embers of exploitation.
The Commonwealth will surely be her lasting legacy — a global fellowship in parallel with the Anglican communion, which unites peoples of many backgrounds and many faiths through a common desire to do good.
Queen Elizabeth’s death can be a moment for all of us — Christians and non-Christians alike — to take stock of our quarrels, to pause them, and to unite in grief and mourning as we are reminded of inexorability.
Today we are often encouraged to express our feelings freely, to wear our hearts upon our sleeves, à la Prince Harry.
And so Queen Elizabeth’s unsentimental brand of silent public virtue has, by contrast, come to seem a touch quaint, limiting, and outdated.
Yet the moment of her death affords an opportunity not only to give thanks for her steadfastness but also to reflect on its qualities as a model for our own lives.
Quiet Christianity helped Queen Elizabeth win over many critics, even those who were opposed to her ideologically. Her obvious tolerance and moderation brought out those same impulses in others.
It is a painful irony that her Anglican Communion itself is going through such public convulsions occasioned by an inability to chart the tolerant, moderate paths which she championed.
As a Briton, and as a historian, I felt an unfamiliar unease as the news unfolded.
For me, as for most of my fellow countrymen, this is uncharted territory: a time without our great national leader, the only monarch we have ever known. Something has changed forever.
Queen Elizabeth’s response to such a crisis would surely have been to turn to Jesus — but to do so calmly, softly, and unobtrusively.
We must place our faith in him to deliver us from evil now that she is gone, following her lead for how that is done.
Rest in Peace, Your Majesty. God Save the King.
- Miles Pattenden is Senior Research Fellow at the Institute for Religion and Critical Inquiry at Australian Catholic University, and Visiting Fellow in the Humanities Research Centre at Australian National University.
- First published by the ABC. Republished with permission.
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