Saint Edward was King of England.
This meant that, for a considerable part of his life, people had to do what he said.
This is a dangerous spiritual condition.
He had a crown, a court, servants, land, wealth, influence and the ability to make decisions which affected thousands of people.
And Christianity presented him with one slightly inconvenient fact:
he was not actually in charge.
There was a King above the king.
That is the reason we remember Saint Edward today.
Not because he once ruled England.
England has had plenty of rulers.
We do not normally put candles beside all of them.
Edward is a saint because he learnt that Christ must rule the person who rules the kingdom.
Saint Paul gives us the reason.
God intends us to be “conformed to the image of His Son.”
That is Christianity’s idea of success.
It is rather different from ours.
We tend to ask:
Did I achieve anything?
Did people respect me?
Did I leave something behind?
God asks: Do you look more like Christ?
Which is a much more alarming question.
Because we can usually produce evidence of our achievements.
Christ asks about the person underneath them.
And then Jesus gives us the Beatitudes.
Blessed are the poor in spirit.
Blessed are the meek.
Blessed are the merciful.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
An unusual programme for a monarch.
No reference to military expansion.
Nothing about increasing revenue.
No promise to make the kingdom the envy of neighbouring kingdoms.
Which tells us immediately that Christ’s idea of strength is not ours.
The world says strength means controlling other people.
Christ begins with whether we can control ourselves.
Can I have authority without becoming proud?
Can I possess something without it possessing me?
A king has to learn that.
So does everybody else.
Very few of us will ever rule a country, but every one of us has some part of life where we quietly assume: ‘I am sovereign here.’ My plans. My decisions. My grievances. And Christ comes to the border.
Now, we are often very happy to welcome Him ceremonially.
Christ may have an honoured place.
We will sing to Him. Light candles before Him. Perhaps even consult Him.
But kingship means rather more than consultation.
Jesus is not Lord because we occasionally ask His opinion.
He is Lord because His word decides the matter.
And that becomes clearer when He disagrees with us.
“Give this up,” He says.
We’d rather discuss it.
“Trust Me,” He says
We want Him to provide more detail.
This is where we discover whether Christ reigns or merely attends official functions.
Saint Edward’s greatness was that a man who wore a crown came to understand that he himself lived under authority.
God’s authority.
God’s law.
God’s judgement.
An earthly king could say: “I command.”
Edward knelt and say: “Thy will be done.”
That kneeling is more important than the crown.
Because every crown eventually comes off.
Every title eventually stops being used.
Every earthly position passes to somebody else.
History moves on with remarkable efficiency.
And finally the king stands before Christ exactly as the poorest subject does.
No court. No ceremony. No special entrance. Only the soul before God.
Saint Edward is not merely the name of this church.
He is not ecclesiastical branding.
We have not chosen a medieval king because he looks distinguished on the stationery.
He is our patron.
We ask his prayers because his life says something about what ours should become.
And perhaps above all it says:
let Christ rule.
Let Him rule the parish.
Let Him rule the home.
Let Him rule the decisions.
Let Him rule the conscience.
Let Him rule when His teaching is comfortable and when it is not.
Because a parish can have everything in good order and still forget that.
The timetable can work.
The roof can remain attached.
The accounts can balance.
And yet none of those things is the purpose of Saint Edward’s.
This church exists for one reason: Jesus Christ.
People are baptised here so that they may belong to Him.
The Gospel is preached here so that they may hear Him.
Sins are forgiven here because He gave His Church authority to forgive them.
At Mass, His one Sacrifice on Calvary is made sacramentally present.
And in Holy Communion He gives Himself to His people: Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.
The King does not merely issue instructions from a distance.
He comes among His people.
That is Christianity’s answer to every fear we might have about letting Christ rule.
What sort of King is He?
Look at the Cross.
He is the King who gives His life for His subjects.
He does not take the life of the kingdom to preserve His throne.
He gives His life to save the kingdom.
He wears a crown of thorns before He wears the crown of glory.
He rules by truth.
He conquers by love.
He defeats death by dying.
So when we say that Christ should rule us, we are not surrendering ourselves to a tyrant.
We are entrusting ourselves to the One who loved us enough to be crucified for us.
There is no safer King.
And there is no safer kingdom.
Perhaps that is what Saint Edward finally learnt.
The crown on his head mattered for a time.
The crown above him mattered for eternity.
And today, centuries later, Saint Edward still points away from himself.
That is what I hope this church will always do.
Not draw attention to itself.
Not merely preserve the memory of what has gone before.
But point to Christ.
When someone enters here burdened by sin: Christ is King.
When someone comes here grieving: Christ is King.
When a child is baptised: Christ is King.
When the Scriptures are proclaimed: Christ is King.
When the bread and wine become His Body and Blood: Christ is King.
When we leave these doors and go back into ordinary life: Christ is still King.
Not only here.
Not only on Sunday.
Not only when life is going well.
King in the home. King in suffering. King in the decisions.
King at the bedside. King at the grave. King when every earthly crown has fallen.
King when every human voice has gone silent.
King when death itself has been defeated.
Because the safest kingdom is the one in which Christ is King.
The safest parish is the one in which Christ is King.
The safest home is the one in which Christ is King.
And the safest human heart is the one which has finally stopped defending its little throne and says: “Lord, it is Yours.”
Saint Edward once ruled England.
But in the end, something infinitely greater happened.
Christ ruled Edward. And may Christ rule us too.
