Millions of people around the world watched a generational spectacle as Charles III was crowned to be “Anointed, blessed and consecrated King over the Peoples”.
However, despite being widely celebrated as accessible, inclusive, modernised and just the second fully televised coronation in history, one stage remained hidden from public gaze: the moment that the Archbishop anointed Charles, pronouncing the blessing above. Even the royal family and most revered dignitaries were not allowed to witness this sacred moment. As millions of eyes strained to catch a mere glimpse, it passed in intense secrecy and mystery.
In its relentless pursuit of happiness, modern society often arrives at the conclusion that excitement is achieved by breaking through more and more boundaries, to the point that “accessible” is rapidly morphing into “limitless”.
AI software strains to place command of humanity’s collective knowledge at our fingertips. Reality TV promises to reignite the spark in our relationships via experiments with a variety of partners. And the once-clear borders separating business and pleasure have blurred beyond recognition as WhatsApp and email buttress an unspoken culture of being on call 24/7.
Deep down, there is a pure and untouched part of our soul that knows: it doesn’t work. Excitement, meaning and the mystique of life are created by strengthening and reinforcing boundaries. For one fleeting moment in Westminster, stripped of screen and subtitle, the world held its breath in open-eyed wonder and reached beyond the horizons of the observable world to tap into an increasingly rare faculty: childlike imagination.
Perhaps this is precisely what our sidrah emphasises. In fact, so vital is the command to keep the holy Ark hidden from public view at all times, it is repeated with even greater passion at the conclusion of our portion (Numbers 4:17-20).
No other stage of the Sanctuary’s construction is repeated with such urgency, if at all. It is as if the Torah is telling us: familiarity does not necessarily breed contempt. That is both harsh and somewhat cynical. But familiarity absolutely does breed familiarity.
So, we could reveal the Holy Ark to the entire nation at all times. Likewise, we could — in the name of accessibility and modernity — broadcast the monarch’s anointment to the entire world in full 4K glory. But the price of this brief moment of excitement is a permanent loss of the very sacredness, uniqueness and magic that makes these things special in the first place. And that, the Torah teaches us, is a price not worth paying.
