With all the fanfare and (speaking frankly) downright media hysteria
swirling around William, Kate, and the new Prince this week, it has caused me
to ponder afresh the way that we welcome royalty into our midst…sometimes.
Despite the fact that all actual political power was removed
from the British monarchy in the late 1600’s, more than 80% of the citizens in
the UK are still fairly enamored by it.[1] We
would expect then that on the day of the Prince's birth bells and cannon blasts
rang out across the country to herald his arrival. We would expect that when
the new mother and father exited the hospital that they would be met with
thousands of adoring fans and an almost equal number of cameras and microphones
attempting to capture every gesture, every expression, every moment of this now
historic event.
And, as we might expect, when the name of the new child
finally escapes their lips it will be posted at the gates of the palace in a
silver frame for the whole world to see. Which they most certainly will because
every news outlet, every newspaper, every magazine (both legitimate and those
of the tabloid variety) will not allow any of us a moment of silence until they
are certain that we all know. And this is all just the beginning. The beginning
of a long series of articles, photographs, and anecdotes that will ensure that
the general public is constantly up-to-date about the Prince’s first step,
first word, first love, or first scandal.
He is royalty, and this is what we would all expect for the
arrival of a future King.
Can you imagine for a moment with me though. Can you imagine
that the story unfolded in ways a bit different than the one above? Can you
imagine that the Prime Minister was actually insecure about the Prince’s birth,
scared to death that his arrival might threaten his own power and status. And
that this fear was shared by everyone in Britain? And what if William and Kate
were forced to flee and ended up giving birth to the Prince in a back alley of
Amsterdam because no hotel would let them in for the night. And what if the
fear of the people swelled to hysteria until the Prime Minster ordered all the
male children under the age of two to be killed. And what if this spurred the
new mother and father to head for the hills of Eastern Europe where the only
people who came to greet them where three gypsies and a handful of goat herders
from Turkey.
And what if there were no cameras, no cheering crowds, no
photos and no silver frames with a name hung outside the palace? What might we
learn about the peculiar Kingdom of this new Prince and what we learn about the
Prince himself?
And would you ever be willing to follow any sort of King that entered our world like that?
