Sermon for H.R.H. the Prince of Orange and Princess Máxima

Sermon for Willem-Alexander and Máxima

Perhaps you know the story of Peer Gynt, who returned to his homeland as an old man, after many wanderings all over the world, and asked himself what use his life had been. In a field, he found a wild onion. As he peeled it, deep in thought, a phase of his life came to mind with each layer of the onion that he removed. And each layer, like each phase of his life, succeeded the preceding one. But where was the core, what was the point of it all? To his astonishment, he found that as he peeled the layers away from his life he could not find its core. Each core enclosed another, and none was the final one.

So, Máxima, Willem-Alexander, what is at the core of our lives? That is a question everyone asks themselves at one time or another, and certainly when they are about to link their life to another person’s and to start sharing responsibility for the other’s happiness.

Perhaps we may find a clue to the answer in the passage father Braun read, the lovely story of Naomi and Ruth. It is an ancient tale. Or is it also – for the bible is a mirror of human life – a story for our time?

It is the story of a woman called Naomi, who lived with her husband and two sons in Israel, in the land of Judah, in the village of Bethlehem. Famine forced them to take refuge in the land of Moab. Very soon after their arrival, Naomi’s husband died. She stayed on, with her sons, who each married a girl from Moab, Orpah and Ruth. For ten years they all lived there together, and then Naomi’s sons died too. Hearing that the famine in Judah was over, Naomi decided to return to her homeland. What was left for her in Moab? Her daughters-in-law travelled with her. But then, when they reached the border, Naomi had second thoughts. ‘go back,’ she said. ‘go back, each of you, to your mother’s house. May the lord show you the same love as you have shown me. May you soon find husbands of your own people.’ and she kissed them goodbye.

Naomi knew that there was no future for her daughters-in-law in Judah. The two peoples were divided by a deep gulf. But the younger women wouldn’t listen and burst into tears, saying, ‘No, we’ll go back with you to your people’. But Naomi stood her ground. ‘go back, my daughters.’ the words ‘go back’ appear ten times. So ten times we are told what the story is all about: the question of where people belong. Where should we go in our lives? Where do we come from, where are we going? Indeed, what do we want from life, where is the land where we can breathe and live?

‘Go back, my daughters. ’

And Orpah gave in. She realised that Naomi was right, but at the same time, she was grief-stricken because they would never see each other again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, tore herself free and turned back. But what was Ruth waiting for? ‘Look,’ said Naomi, ‘your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and her gods. Go back, follow your sister.’

Then Ruth answered: Entreat me not to leave thee, Or to return from following after thee: For whither thou goest, I will go; And where thou lodgest, I will lodge: Thy people shall be my people, And thy God my god: Where thou diest, will I die, And there will I be buried: The Lord do so unto me, and more also, If ought but death part thee and me.

I can’t think of anything more moving. For what could Ruth possibly know about this people and their God, that she should entrust the whole of her being to them?

You will understand why this story is central to today’s ceremony. For despite all the differences between this ancient tale and the story of your lives, there must have been times, Máxima, when you asked yourself: ‘should I really do this, go with him to a country far from my own homeland, to a foreign country with a people I don’t know, who have a different history, a different identity, a different culture?’ A choice that would cause some pain, and has indeed made demands on many people. You must sometimes have heard a voice saying: ‘go back, my daughter … go back to your people. ’

That brings us again to the story of Naomi and Ruth and what happened when they reached Bethlehem. The bible says the whole town was in uproar, with people asking one another: ‘is that Naomi?’ You can imagine the women in the fields stopping their work, putting down their rakes for a moment to look at her. ‘No, surely it can’t be.’ you can hear people whispering: ‘haven’t you heard?’ everyone talking about her but nobody talking to her. And Ruth must have sensed what was going on.

Máxima is not the only one who must have hesitated. Willem-Alexander must have done the same. He writes in his letter: ‘can I, do I have the right to ask Máxima to give up the greater part of her free, independent life, a life she has worked so hard for, that is so important to her? I was still very young when I realised the demands that kingship makes. I am asking my future wife to make a sacrifice, an almost inhuman sacrifice. She is marrying not just me, but an entire country.’

But at the same time it is clear from the letter that if there is someone who can really be a support to him, she is the one: this woman with her sunny nature and her talents, her open mind and her ability to put things into perspective. As he, for his part, is a true support for her, because he so obviously believes in her and, as she herself says, surrounds her with care and consideration, so that with him she feels safe and able to be herself. Being herself: to him, that means all the spontaneity and joie de vivre characteristic of her, qualities that he fervently hopes she will retain in her new life.

Together, you two have worked things out. You, Máxima, have now met a great many people here. You have touched many with your warmth and concern, ever since the first words could finally be said in public, words that echoed Ruth’s pledge to Naomi: ‘your people shall be my people and your God my God .’

Your people shall be my people. You have mastered our language very quickly. Once, when we were still speaking english together, I couldn’t remember a word, and I asked someone else for the english for ‘gevolgen’. But before that person could answer, Máxima said ‘consequences’! And oh, what consequences your love has had. For instance, you have been eager to learn about protestantism, the church in which Willem-Alexander was brought up. But you already had in common faith itself, the faith in the god of Abraham, Moses and Jesus, the faith that has brought you to this church today.

And that is the second point this morning: your discovery that despite all the differences between you – and it is fitting that there should be differences – you were both shaped, as Willem-Alexander said in his letter, by the same norms and values. Norms and values that are rooted in faith. In your letter you said that without that faith you could not live. ‘It gives me something to hold on to in difficult times and when I have to make difficult decisions. It also gives me something that I can, indeed must, ultimately answer to. That is my way of keeping my self-respect and my self-esteem, and sometimes to keep swimming against the tide, because I know I’m on the right tack.’

These are the words of someone who has been destined from birth to shoulder an onerous task; someone who has to be the visible representation of something that is almost impossible to represent: namely the solidarity of the Dutch through the ages, in their struggle not only against the waters but also against all the waves of injustice and violence that threatened and sometimes inundated our country. That same solidarity that through the ages led this people to shelter others threatened by oppression and persecution. Although we know – and this city bears the scars – how badly we sometimes failed.

Willem-Alexander, Prince of Orange, no one knows better than you how hard it is to accept a mission in life that you cannot choose for yourself. Or is it possible to make such a mission so much your own that accepting it does become a conscious choice? It may have been like that for you. A difficult road, and sometimes a lonely battle, too. But still you were never entirely alone on that road, however lonely it seemed, because he was there, the God – as your letter put it – who gives you something to hold on to in difficult times and when making difficult decisions. And so, at some point you were able to make a conscious decision to accept your mission in life.

Having finally accepted this very special calling, you have developed a broad interest in everything that is going on in this country and in the world at large. You have also developed a capacity for being close to people in all manner of different circumstances. And so there stands before us today a man who has stood firm no matter what happened, and who has grown stronger as a result. A man who has finally found a woman willing to accompany him on the road he has to take, so that together they can give it meaning and substance.

‘Your God shall be my God,’ said Ruth, and today the bride is saying the same to her bridegroom. She has a lot of questions. But who doesn’t? Like the question of how this world can come from god. This world, as she said in her letter, with all its beauty and human kindness, yet with all its pain, its sin, and its evil. And yet despite these questions one thing remains constant: ‘that there is a little corner of myself that from time to time makes me pray, makes me raise my eyes to him and believe in him, and trust that he will always be there. To me, God is love. A love that brings people together, a love that gives you strength and makes people treat others with respect.’ That is why you wanted to begin your marriage together in church, because after all, as you yourselves said, ‘it’s all about love, when two people promise to stay beside each other for the rest of their lives, bring each other happiness and strength, and work together for a better world. And where better to do this,’ said Máxima, ‘if God is love, than with his blessing in his own house of love?’

‘Your God shall be my god.’ perhaps the traditions that you grew up in, the roman catholic and the protestant, each with its own wealth of religious experience, will enrich and deepen your lives.

We don’t have enough time for the rest of Ruth’s story, except to say this. Naomi would have told Ruth – it was harvest time in Israel – about the law of her country that allowed the poor to follow the reapers and glean any ears of grain that might fall to the ground. So Ruth went. And when the landowner arrived in his fields he saw this stranger and asked a farmworker who she belonged with.

Perhaps you can already guess how the story continues, for the landowner was a kinsman of Naomi’s and in Israel a childless widow could always count on a male relative of her husband’s to marry her to give her children and safeguard her future. And so this landowner, Boaz by name, lived up to his family obligations, even though it meant marrying a foreigner, a Moabitess. What’s more, love grew between them there amid the alien corn, a love with blessed consequences: a son was born to them. And they called him ‘Obed’, meaning the one who serves. As if both of them wanted his name to reflect what life is all about. And Obed, so the story goes, was the father of Jesse, who in turn was the father of David, who became king of all Israel. As if the story means that kingship is rooted in service. And that is why a good king prays to God ‘that I may stay a pious servant of thine for aye’. (dutch national anthem)

And lastly, when, centuries later, Matthew wrote the story of the birth of Jesus, a distant descendant of David, he included the name of Ruth, the Moabitess, among his ancestors. As if to say: remember, the love of god, which was manifested so wondrously in Jesus of Nazareth, extends to all peoples. God writes his story with and through all peoples. And when the church sings praises to Mary, the mother of Jesus, in its hymns – like the one the bride has grown so fond of, which we shall hear shortly – today you must visualise behind Mary all the foremothers of Jesus, and for a moment remember Ruth, the Moabitess. Ave Maria, hail Mary, hail Ruth of Bethlehem.

And if we think back to the story of Peer Gynt, the man peeling the onion he found, have we come a little closer to the core, to the secret of our lives?

Willem-Alexander, Máxima, the blessing of the lord go with you in your marriage and in your life together. And may you be a blessing to many.

Amen.