The story is told in every pulpit and half the pubs of Christendom, and it needs no introduction to anyone who has sat through a homily on trust. A flood comes. A man climbs onto the roof of his house and prays. A neighbour rows past in a canoe and offers to take him off; he declines, saying that God will save him. The water rises; a motorboat comes; he declines again. The water rises further; a helicopter lowers a line; he waves it away. He drowns. Presented at last before the throne of God, he asks, with some justice as he sees it, why his faith was not rewarded. And the answer comes: I sent you a canoe, a motorboat, and a helicopter. What exactly were you waiting for?‍

King Charles III, the Coronation Oath, and the Incoherence of Royal Pluralism
There is a certain kind of confusion that presents itself as magnanimity. It speaks warmly of inclusion, of tolerance, of the spiritual richness of diverse traditions — and it does so with complete sincerity. What it does not do, because it cannot, is think the position through to its conclusions. King Charles III is a man of genuine religious curiosity and evident personal piety. He is also, on the specific question of his role as Defender of the Faith, in a position of irresolvable self-contradiction — and the coronation oath he swore before God in Westminster Abbey in May 2023 makes that contradiction a matter of public and solemn record.