Thousands have come together these past ten days to mourn the Queen’s passing and commemorate her life. It has been a dramatic and emotional experience that has surprised us all both in its reach and intensity. For in her death, her late Majesty has gifted us with a realisation of what, as a society, we have been sorely missing.
Our national mourning has been more than an expression of gratitude for the late Queen’s service. In those silent moments in Balmoral, Buckingham Palace and most acutely in Westminster we have felt a sublime stillness, connection, purpose and awe. We have experienced embodied transcendent emotion. The sensation of awe is an emotional recognition that you are part of something greater than yourself. It provides a sense of profound expansiveness that deeply enhances your emotional wellbeing.
Studies have found that feeling transcendence makes you perceive yourself as physically smaller relative to your surroundings and gives you a heady feeling of timelessness. It is the polar opposite of low self-esteem in which you become self-absorbed, questioning your own self-worth and becoming hyper-sensitive to others’ judgement. With transcendent emotion, you overlook others’ differences recognising that you are all part of something beyond yourself.
Positive self-esteem, it seems, is not necessarily the product of unbridled self-expression or unlimited opportunities for self-actualisation. Rather, counter-intuitively, it can be built in those moments when you recognise your smallness in the context of a bigger, grander picture. It can be found in the sense of pride felt when you fulfill your duty. From acknowledging your purpose as contributing to a greater goal.
Perhaps this is why our great-grandparents didn’t struggle as much with their own sense of self as it was secondary to their recognition of those above them. Perhaps this is why toddlers are naturally happy; they are awe-struck with their surroundings. Sublime, spiritual experiences are not just good for the soul, they are good for psychological wellbeing too.
Formality, ceremony and ritual have also seen a resurgence during this period of national loss. When you are speaking about royalty you arch your back and stand to attention. These past few days we have stood, recited, saluted and knelt. Letters have been written with official letterheads and formal language. There has barely been an emoji in sight. In fact, for the whole mourning experience, the importance of mourners’ physical presence has been consistently recognised. There have been some opportunities for virtual involvement, but everyone has implicitly realised that these are a distant second choice. Placing flowers on the grass and stepping back in silence cannot, we all appreciate, be replaced by a tweet.
These embodied ritualistic opportunities have become increasingly rare in an ever-more causal Britain and our Jewish community has followed suit. Of course, our modern flattened hierarchy, first name terms and widespread casualness has its benefits. But for all the comforts of T-shirts at barmitzvahs, Zoom davening on our sofa and finger food buffets in place of Friday night dinners, there is something in casualness that is unmistakably missing. We all know it intuitively but brush it aside for the sake of convenience and comfort. Last week we have been reminded.
When something is formalised it is given more weight and importance and becomes more meaningful. This has been recognised therapeutically with rituals and ceremonies often being used in family therapy to support a transition or to acknowledge something more deeply. When used appropriately, rituals contain a profound power, especially when they are witnessed by family and friends.
History has taught us the painful risks of living under sovereign rule. Our subjugation has been cruelly betrayed so many times. From an emotional perspective it takes a huge amount of vulnerability to coronate a monarch and to hand over power. But it seems that being drawn to pay respects to a ruler is not only a deep-set part of our human condition. It has been emotionally and spiritually healthy for us to mourn our late Queen.
We approach Rosh Hashanah this year still fresh with the loss of our gracious monarch. So too are the lessons from her passing about the value of tradition, rituals, ceremony and feelings of transcendence. As a Jew, I feel fortunate to have opportunities for all of these experiences every time I go to shul. As I get ready to stand among my community to listen to the Shofar coronating the Almighty as our King of kings on Rosh Hashana, I arch my back, stand to attention and breathe in the sense of awe. I remember how it feels to be in the presence of majesty. Our national mourning has reminded me of how truly lucky we are.
