Order of service

À toi la Gloire

Candle ceremony with the grandchildren

The Lord said “Let there be light”
And there was light (Genesis 1:3)

For with thee is the fountain of life;
In thy light shall we see light (Psalm 36: 9)

Send out Thy light and Thy truth
Let them lead me (Psalm 43:3)

Jesus said: ”I am the light of the world (John 8:12)

He that followeth me shall have the light of life.” (John 8:12).

Call to Worship

We dedicate this service to God, the fountain of life, from Whom, through Whom and by Whom all things are, and from Whom, through Whom and by Whom Princess Juliana lived and died. Grace be with you and the peace of God our Father, through Jesus Christ. Amen.

We are gathered here today to bid farewell to Her Royal Highness Princess Juliana. Our thoughts are especially with those who have lost a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a great-grandmother. Though one who was so dear to us has departed from our midst, we are above all filled with gratitude that hers was such a long and productive life.

Princess Juliana herself was convinced that death was not a descent into oblivion or darkness, but a transition into Light and the security of God’s Love. That is why she chose white as the colour for this day, and why we sang À Toi la Gloire (Thine be the Glory), as our first hymn. It was her wish to set the tone of her farewell with this joyful hymn of resurrection, and you will recognise this uplifting note in the other music she chose.

One of her greatest wishes was that her daughter Christina would sing and it is wonderful that she was prepared to do so at such an emotional time. The hymn she chose was “It’s a gift to be simple.”

Music

“’T is a gift to be simple”

Opening prayer

O Lord, let there be silence within us. Such silence that we can hear the intake of our own breath, and feel the beating of our hearts.

Let us for a moment detach ourselves from this imposing place, the people around us and all these unfamiliar impressions and concentrate on the person who really matters today. Help us to be with Princess Juliana in our hearts: to remember who she was and what she meant to each of us. (Let us dwell upon her qualities, her personality, her individuality, the special person that she was.) Help us to think of her here and now with respect and with the heartfelt attention she deserves, she who devoted her life to her country and her people. She who endeavoured, in all sincerity, to complete her task and to serve You. You who are the fountain of all love, let love flow into our hearts, so that we become a circle, surrounding her with warmth and care. Amen.

Choir: Kyrie eleison

Lesson: John 14:1,2,27,28.

Choir and congregation: Whatever the future may bring, the Lord will guide me.

Tribute

“I don’t want praise.” That was what Princess Juliana wrote at the top of the list of instructions for her funeral service. For good measure, she added “no eulogies” at the bottom.

Most people do not want to be ordinary. They want to be considered special. But for Princess Juliana, it was the other way round. Everyone saw her as special, but she wanted to be ordinary. One of her childhood memories is a good illustration of this.

As a little girl, she attended school at Huis ten Bosch Palace, with three other little girls who formed a special class with her. Every morning she was taken there, all alone in her carriage, except for a lady-in-waiting. The other girls arrived in a carriage together. Little Juliana would watch them coming, chattering and giggling. And that’s how they left at the end of the school day. The Princess alone, the other girls together. But one day, the lady-in-waiting was standing talking to one of the mothers, not paying attention to her charge. The girls beckoned to Juliana to come over and sit with them in their carriage. So Juliana got out of hers, and climbed in with them. It was wonderful, she said. The driver made a quick circle in front of the palace, and they all laughed and told jokes. She was having so much fun. But as soon as the lady-in-waiting realised what was happening, the Princess was taken out of the carriage. Her mother would never allow such a thing! When Princess Juliana told this story 80 years later, she was still angry. “I knew that my mother would not have minded. She liked me to enjoy myself.”

We can of course sympathise with the lady-in-waiting, who must have had quite a fright. It was up to her to protect and watch over the precious child. But to the little princess, all this meant was that she could never play with the other children. And she carried this memory with her for the rest of her long life.

Princess Juliana was special – an only child and heir to the throne. And that brought with it a degree of loneliness. It was a source of sadness to her, as it is to anyone who is alone. But from that loneliness, she developed her own strengths: her own dignity, her own vision and her own authenticity.

For Juliana, being Queen was an onerous, but sacred task, which she felt it was her duty to fulfil; to owe obedience, as we will shortly sing. And because of that task, it was impossible for her to be an ordinary mother, no matter how much her daughters meant to her. That was not easy for her or her family.

Princess Juliana gave herself completely to her task. She was well prepared and her questions were very much to the point, and often unexpected. Which is how she formed her own opinion. But at the same time, she found it difficult to understand that others saw things differently. And once she had made up her mind, it was difficult to persuade her to change it.

Behind her longing to be ordinary was true simplicity: the gift to be simple, as her daughter Christina sang. She could truly enjoy a picnic with the children, or looking for chestnuts to roast. Taking snapshots of spring flowers. She really enjoyed playing games, like Scrabble, especially if she won. But her real passion was acting. You can well imagine how someone who always had to play a role loved playing one she could choose for herself – and to which she could bring all the humour she possessed in abundance, particularly if her son-in-law Pieter was playing opposite her.

Sometimes perhaps she went a little too far in her search for simplicity, certainly by today’s standards: for instance when she felt that salmon canapés were too fancy to be served at her birthday party.

Being ordinary meant that Princess Juliana had a strong aversion to court etiquette and imposed formality and rules. But neither did she like informality and pushiness. She wrote “I was inclined to see the good in people. But I was not so stupid that I did not often see through them.”

What made Princess Juliana so special was her warm heart. People do not remember her as the queen in the state portraits they saw in public buildings. The image that left the deepest impression on them was the one of her standing in the mud in her rubber boots in Zeeland during the 1953 floods, with wind-swept hair and fluttering headscarf. The expression on her face was one of deepest sympathy and powerlessness. At that moment, she was perhaps at her most royal, in the truest sense of the word: genuinely at one with her people in their hour of need and in their grief.

Princess Juliana was a religious woman, with spiritual beliefs all her own which were not inspired by church dogma or law. Freedom of religion and tolerance were a matter of course to her. Her mother gave her a solid, Christian upbringing, and her father brought her into contact with the mystical wisdom of the East. She had an open mind and spoke with great enthusiasm of her meeting with the Jewish philosopher, Martin Buber. But she was also interested in Islamic Sufism. Her daughters introduced her to modern spiritual movements, and so she continued to develop. She was a regular churchgoer, but preferred attending different churches. St Paul’s words “prove all things; hold fast that which is good” applied very much to her. She did not stay within one church, but embarked instead on a voyage of discovery. She was convinced that many roads led to the one God. Or, as Jesus said: “In my Father’s house are many mansions”. When she received communion at her grandson’s ecumenical wedding service, it was not the whim of an eccentric old lady. For her, this was communion in the true sense. Communion between people of different denominations was her deepest wish. The articles of her faith were: concern for others; do good in a practical way, and trust in God. When I asked her how she wanted her service of farewell to be, she told me: “I want it to be about peace. Peace between individuals, between races and between nations. And about not being afraid of death.”

Peace. It grieved Princess Juliana profoundly to have to leave her country when war broke out. From Canada, she lived through events with her people. After the war, working wherever she could for peace was the most important task to her. That was frequently the subject of her Christmas message. “No matter who you are, it is the greatest conceivable privilege to be able to work for peace on earth and for people’s wellbeing. All of us. We all share the same responsibility.”

She found the arms race during the Cold War disturbing. And she also appreciated that world peace could be achieved only by bridging the gap between rich and poor countries and by respecting human rights. (For the times she lived in, her attitudes were very socially conscious and modern). Ultimately, her work for world peace would turn into her greatest political struggle, a struggle for which she had the courage. “Peace is not a safe shelter for the idle. Peace is the noblest struggle of all.” But it was a struggle that brought her many disappointments.

In the passage from the Bible we have just read, Jesus said: “Peace is my parting gift to you, my own peace, such as the world cannot give you”. It is important to know that in Jesus’ day, the word “peace” had different connotations.

First, it meant the absence of war. And Jesus preferred to die himself than to allow others to take up arms and die because of him.

Peace also meant spiritual health, wholeness and wellness. The Greek goddess of peace Eirene – we say Irene – was depicted with the horn of plenty in her hand. She brought prosperity, health and happiness. When a Jew says shalom, or an Arab salaam, they are literally saying peace be with you but also wishing you all the good in life: a good harvest, friendship, all the joy life can bring.

True peace in the sense of prosperity for all can only be achieved if there is also social justice: less of a gulf between rich and poor countries, a fair legal system and love of your neighbour.

It is clear that the ideal of peace, prosperity and justice, did not exist in Jesus’ day. His country was occupied and exploited; poverty and injustice held sway. That is why many people projected the idea of peace into a distant, ideal future, when the Messiah would come. Or to another world: to heaven, where you can rest in peace. But if you read the passage properly, and in context, it is unlikely that Jesus was wishing his disciples a distant future of bliss, or heavenly peace. “Peace is my parting gift to you,” are Jesus’ words at his last meeting with His disciples. He warns them that he will be betrayed, taken prisoner and put to death. They are filled with fear and confusion. And precisely at this moment Jesus says, “Peace is my parting gift to you.” What could he have meant?

It seems as if Jesus has reconciled himself to the fact that he will die. He has almost completed his life’s mission, and he will depart this life at one with God, who gives meaning to his existence. “It is finished.” Those were His last words according to the gospel of John. A just world peace has not yet been achieved, but what Jesus gives his disciples is inner peace, the peace of being rooted in God, of standing for a good cause and giving your life for it. That gives them the strength to carry on where he left off. Even though Jesus dies, His peace keeps on working.

I truly hope that you understand that these are not just fine words. For Jesus, God was not a vague theory. God was in Jesus. Light, love and peace were. And I hope that for us too they will not remain vague terms, but that God will be in us, in our lives, when people bring light, peace and love into this world.

Princess Juliana hoped for peace. In two of her Christmas messages she said, “If people work towards something good, something good will always come out of it, even though the result is sometimes different than expected.” This echoes the optimistic faith that gave her the strength to accept setbacks.

Jesus comforts his despairing disciples with the words “Do not be afraid”. His peace will carry them through the many trials ahead, including death, the ultimate trial. They too will find a home with God, and they will return to their Father, from Whom, through Whom and by Whom all things are.

We have just sung “Je ne crains rien” (I fear nothing). “People have nothing to fear,” Princess Juliana often said. She was convinced of that. There is no end at the end, only an eternal new beginning.

Princess Juliana’s life was not easy. She wrote: “Much of the sorrow in my life is unknown to others and so it should be.” But it was a good life, full, intense and valuable. And she died in peace. Close to her husband, whom she so loved. And surrounded by her children and grandchildren, in whom, as she herself wrote, she found the greatest joy.

May her powerful, optimistic faith be an example to us all. And may this queen, who was so beloved of her people and so valued by them, rest in God’s peace. Amen.

Surinamese Choir: The Lord’s Prayer

Introduction to the Blessing

Before we entrust Juliana’s body to the safety of the earth and the shelter of this church, we will take our leave of her.

Whenever we take our leave of someone, we wish them a safe journey, or bid them farewell. In church, we talk about the blessing, ‘bene dicere’ in Latin, which literally means wishing someone well. I shall pronounce the blessing using the formal, biblical terms. I should like to ask you to join me by singing the responses. But above all, I should like to ask you to formulate your own blessing in your heart, to be consciously aware of what you are wishing her. The ancient, biblical words will thus be filled with the power of your intentions, and borne on the love of her family and her friends.

Please rise.

Blessing

The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Response: Lord have mercy upon her. Amen

Music

Prayers

Lord, we thank you that we can gather here in peace.
Give us the strength, each in their own way, to take your peace with us into this world,
which suffers so much under the yoke of war, poverty and injustice.
Lord, we thank you for giving us the special person who was Juliana.
Now that she has gone from us, our thoughts are with her husband, Prince Bernhard, her daughters Beatrix, Irene, Margriet and Christina, her son-in-law Pieter and the rest of the large family that you granted her.
Comfort all who sincerely grieve for her.
We pray in silence for all those who suffer the pain of loss. We name them in the silence of our hearts.

(silent prayer)

And everything we wish to say to you, we say in the prayer that Jesus taught us:

Our

Hymn

Wilhelmus, verse 15

Valediction

Go forth in peace
Each with your own mission in life
Conscious of the world and its needs
Borne by God’s blessing.

Benediction

May the Eternal one go before you to guide your way
.. behind you to strengthen you
.. beside you as a close friend
..around you as a protective cloak
.. within you as love and peace.

Amen

(From a Celtic blessing)

Choir and congregation

Dona nobis pacem