We all wanted the glass slipper to fit, it seems.
     The death of Princess Diana inspired a worldwide outpouring of grief. Details about the accident that caused her death are still making the news.
     Other celebrities like Jimmy Stewart, John Denver or even Mother Teresa barely make a ripple when they die. But for some reason, the emotional response engendered by Diana's funeral, broadcast around the planet, surpassed the outpouring of grief for JFK, Martin Luther King Jr., Selena and Elvis combined. Her death seemed to touch deeply something in people from China to Africa to North Dakota.
     I didn't wake up at 3 a.m. to watch Di's funeral "live." (Is "live funeral" an oxymoron?) But many people I know did set their alarms. And a surprising number of acquaintances claim to have been awakened automatically. I must confess that I shed more than a few tears as I watched the funeral replays. It was conservatively estimated that the funeral was seen by two billion people. It is believed to be the most-watched event in the history of man.
     Elton John's tribute song, "Goodbye English Rose" has become the most popular single of all time in just over 30 days, selling more copies than the previous record holder – Bing Crosby's White Christmas – had sold in the past 55 years.
     What in God's name is going on here?
     Some commentators have proposed that Diana served as a Jungian archetype, a touchstone for the deep yearnings that all people feel but are unable to express or even consciously acknowledge; that she was a mythical projection that every generation has to create to make sense of their lives.
     But if so, why her? And what did she represent?
     Certainly we've seen this kind of thing before. From the Gilgamesh stories of ancient Sumeria to the Greek myths on our bookshelves, to the fairy tales beside our children's beds, mythical themes do something to us at a deep level.
     Where does this fit in the economy of God?
     Jesus said, "Unto you it is give to know the mystery of the kingdom of God, but unto those who are outside all things are done in parables" (Mark 4:11).
     The most powerful metaphor in the Bible is the love story between God and Israel – or Christ and his Bride – the church, formed by believers since the time of Abel. Although referred in the New Testament, the Old Testament prophets talk about this relationship all the time, and it's most direct presentation is in the love story told in the Song of Solomon. Jews read this story at Passover to commemorate God's "betrothal" to His bride, Israel.
     And Jewish commentators don't relegate this story to the background as the modern church does. The Talmud says, "The day one understands the Song of Solomon outweighs everything else in the world."
     What does all this have to do with Princess Di?
     The Song of Solomon has a strange passage that may unlock the mystery – a parable that may help explain the "Diana deluge."
     "I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots," or, as the Talmud quotes the passage, "as a mare in Pharaoh's chariots" (Song 1:9). Since God himself compared his beloved to a horse, I hope I will be forgiven for comparing Princess Diana to a mare.
     The Rabbi's list eight characteristics that compare Israel to such a mare. Princess Diana typified these characteristics more closely than any woman in this generation, despite her failures and weaknesses.
     The Rabbi's said the prize horses of Pharaoh were distinguished by:
Bloodline— Pharaoh's horse had the benefit of hundreds (even thousands) of years of selective breeding toward their one purpose. Diana, of course, had a royal bloodline through her father, the Earl of Spencer. The church, as the body of Christ on earth, partakes of His heavenly paternity, a spiritually "royal" bloodline when we experience a new birth through faith in Him. He can truly say of us, as Solomon did of the Shulamite maiden, "My sister, my spouse."
Adaptability— Pharaoh's horses were as comfortable toiling in the desert sands as parading in the Egyptian capital. Diana appeared to be as comfortable around refugees and the needy as she was around the palace. She seemed always at ease, no matter what the circumstances.
Spirit— The Egyptian horses had tremendous energy tempered by single-minded focus. Within their defined parameters, they pushed the envelope and tested the barriers, as real believers do, and as Diana did.
Meekness— In the New Testament, the Greek word for meekness evokes the picture of a courageous and spirited war-horse under tight discipline. Diana showed tremendous restraint in the face of raising her children, fulfilling her public responsibilities, and dealing with the disapproval of the queen without seeming to be rebellious, all under the glare of the paparazzi's flashbulbs.
Endurance— The horses of Pharaoh didn't bolt when there was a problem, and were able to run great distances without tiring. The princess persevered in a bad marriage until Charles filed for divorce.
Discipline— A disciplined horse in Pharaoh's chariots was so perfectly trained it could respond to and even anticipate the slightest direction from its rider. Diana's upbringing was reflected in how well she filled the role assigned to her as a royal representative (i.e. better than anyone else in the palace).
Grace— The idea here is how a horse could make any task or technique look easy. Princess Di never projected an "upper-class" distance, but effortlessly seemed to bestow a sense of respect and even nobility on people she dealt with.
Majestic in Beauty— The phrase includes elements of awe, mystery, a state of readiness and possible danger. When they appeared together, Diana made even Charles look good. In fact, compared to Diana, the Windsor's come off as caricatures of royalty. They try to act royal; Diana was royal while remaining apparently unselfconscious. Sort of like the contrast between Pharisees and honest believers.
     In other words, for much of the world who watched her life unfold after her marriage to Prince Charles, Diana was Cinderella, she was Sleeping Beauty, she was acting out a fairy-tale love story that everyone pictures themselves in but don't know how to achieve.
The tragedy— and this is the reason for the grief and the sense of loss – that this princess married the wrong prince. And before she could find the real one, her mortality caught up with her.
     This is humankind's spiritual predicament, and it shows itself most clearly in a story like Diana's.
     Instead of the Lord, we find ourselves in a spiritual relationship with Baal, or Molech, or the Law, or Prince Charles, or some other fill-in-the-blank imposter of our own devising, a pairing where our needs are not met, our beauty is never called forth, and our shame is ever before our face.
     So we weep for Diana when death leaves her quest unfulfilled. And we weep for ourselves for settling for whatever it is we're worshipping at the moment, with no hope of real joy or satisfaction.
     And all the time, if we had ears to hear, He whispers to us, "As a lily hidden among thorns, so is my love among the daughters."
     So was Diana.
     And so are we.