Symbolic gestures are always going off all over the place, in parallel to ourselves, like the unseen realm itself. My right hand and entire arm was most certainly animated when I ripped the starter cord off of a lawn mower at work recently. Over the top was my gesture and consequence the wage. Because of course, gestures and movements carry weight; from the unfortunate, like my run in with that Briggs and Stratton Diamond 56 mower, which I had to then keep running for the entire encumbrance, to the altogether more consequential symbology and movements within the coronation of King Charles III.
Whatever peoples myriad views of the day, I know I have never seen anything so wantonly liturgical on a television before. So many ancient symbolic appeals that it would not have seemed out of place to me for St Edmund to wander in, his old bones being grafted to fresh flesh right before the assembly. I spotted a couple of remaining chairs and wondered if they had been kept aside for the sudden appearance of long dead saints. It would have been apropos.
More awkward would have been if King Arthur had been placed at that moment to return. Oh my for the tension…
God save the King!
Christ is risen!