An African-American preached God’s word in the still-unshaken remnant of a colonial empire, to a congregation not notable for their marital fidelity or their evangelical warmth, and he spoke with tenderness and passion and hope. He didn’t flatter or pander. He didn’t cajole or castigate. He didn’t talk about them at all. He talked about the power of God’s love to renew a tired old world. He spoke of the wisdom of slaves who knew the healing balm of Gilead to a congregation whose suffering is more often related to excessive wealth and fame, not to oppression.

And it shook people, which was not what anyone expected of a sermon at a royal wedding.