God Save the Queen!

I have always been fascinated with kings and queens. Perhaps this is because my name, from the Gaelic for "Little King", has given occasion to reflect on my vocation, which is every person's vocation, to be an image of the "Great King", Jesus Christ.

In this country, where we have never had a monarchy and have fought a Revolution against the government of a corrupt monarch, we tend to be suspicious of monarchy. And there is good cause for suspicion. Even as the people of Israel clamored for a king, the Lord warned:

These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots [...] He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his servants. He will take the tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and to his servants. He will take your menservants and maidservants, and the best of your cattle and your asses, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. (1 Sam 8:11, 13-17)

This is the Lord's own warning about kings: They will take, and take, and take. Surely there have been bad kings and queens throughout history, perhaps even more bad than good. But then Jesus Christ, the King of Kings, provides the model for true kingship: not to take and take and take, but to give and give and give. "For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mar 10:45).

Something of this divine model of benevolent service was echoed on the occasion of Queen Elizabeth II's succession to the Throne of England. On that occasion, the Queen said, "I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong." Notice that the Queen speaks of her reign as a service, and not merely in the cold terms of law and duty, but of familial affection.

This year, Queen Elizabeth celebrates her Diamond Jubilee, only the second monarch in British history to do so (Queen Victoria was the first). Reflecting upon her 60 year reign, I cannot help but be impressed by such a distinguished service, in an office which is so often susceptible to corruption. And there are few who would disagree--even many an anti-monarchist--that her service has been distinguished by wisdom, strength, and grace. For Elizabeth was never meant to be Queen; her uncle abdicated the Throne, and her father, who succeeded him, died young. At the breathtaking age of 26, she accepted her destiny with dignity and resolve, which has remained unabated in the ensuing 60 years.

Queen Elizabeth II is a model for us all of a life dedicated to service, and so I proudly say,

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

Come Rack, Come Rope

I recently read (twice) English novelist Evelyn Waugh's life of St. Edmund Campion, the Jesuit priest who was martyred under Elizabeth I. Perhaps it is a certain Shakespearean quality--a kind of tragicomedy--about Campion's story that draws me to him. Perhaps it is the surprisingly contemporary character of his story--his Gospel of peace and reconciliation increasingly perceived as a threat to Crown and State. In any case, I cannot help but admire this brilliant and brave companion of Jesus.

Campion began his career as an Oxford scholar, and proved himself among the brightest lights of the University. He won the good favor of the Queen when she made her famous visit to Oxford in 1569, and even earned the patronage of the Earl of Leicester, the Queen's favorite suitor. He was ordained a deacon in the newly established Church of England, and commenced his Theology studies.

As he studied the Church Fathers, however, his conscience weighed heavier and heavier upon him. Was it possible that the true religion, as Christ had intended it, had remained hidden for 1500 years, only to be revealed in these last days to a few English elites? He sought the good opinion of every learned person he thought might be able to resolve his doubts, but in vain.

Not yet desiring the life of an outlaw, he attempted to buy himself time by traveling to Dublin to assist with the establishment of the University there (later Trinity College). However, this endeavor was short-lived, and in 1571 he fled to France. At the English College at Douai, a haven for Catholic ex-patriots, he was reconciled to the Catholic Church, and began his studies for priesthood.

After ordination, Campion traveled to Rome, where he joined the Society of Jesus. His early years as a Jesuit were spent teaching in Vienna and Prague. But in 1580 a mission to England was established, with Jesuits at the helm. Their mission was a dangerous one, as the Mass was banned, and any priest found saying Mass, or any lay man or woman found harboring a priest for the purpose of saying Mass, was considered guilty of treason.

Still, Campion's small group, entering England by different ports, disguised as merchants and assuming false names, were able to slip past the authorities. For the next year they preached and administered the sacraments to those English men and women who remained faithful to Rome, moving from house to house, rarely staying more than a night. This proved a difficult task, as the Crown employed informants, professional "priest-hunters", such as the infamous George Eliot.

It was no suprise, therefore, that on 15 July 1581, Campion and his companions were discovered. Campion's arms were bound, and a piece of paper bearing the inscription "CAMPION THE SEDITIOUS JESUIT" was stuck in his hat. He was led to the Tower of London, where he was met by the Queen herself. Elizabeth asked Campion whether he acknowledged her as his rightful Queen, and promised wealth and high office in her church if he would renounced his faith. Campion acknowledged that she was his rightful Queen, but refused to renounce his faith.

After many grueling months of torture, which included being racked twice, and theological debate with Anglican scholars who refused him the use of texts or notes, Campion and his companions were collectively tried for treason. They were quickly convicted and sentenced to death, at which the group sang the Te Deum laudamus. Upon the scaffold at Tyburn, Campion prayed that the Queen have a long and peaceful reign. He was then hanged until he was half dead, his genitals cut off, his bowels torn out, and his mangled body beheaded and quartered, the parts to be disposed with according to Her Majesty's pleasure.

In a letter to his mentor, Cardinal William Allen, Campion wrote, "I have made a free oblation of myself to His Divine Majesty, both for life and death, and I hope He will give me grace and force to perform; and this is all I desire."

Saint Edmund Campion, pray for us!