Months of anticipation culminated with the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in Windsor on Saturday. There was much discussion regarding whether Meghan, an American-born biracial actress, would honor her African-American heritage during the festivities. It was impossible to escape conversations about race and the royal family as Prince Harry and Meghan’s marriage signaled a new day for the monarchy.

Speculation would prove futile: The couple ensured the introduction of Blackness into the royal family would not go unnoticed. Participating in the wedding ceremony were Rev. Rose Hudson-Wilkin, the first Black woman to hold the office of Chaplain to the Queen; Bishop Anba Angaelos, the Egyptian-born first Coptic Orthodox Archbishop of London; and Sheku Kanneh-Mason, the first Black cellist to win BBC’s Young Musician of the Year. A gospel choir sang “Stand By Me” and ended the ceremony with a medley of “This Little Light of Mine” and the Black church benedictory staple “Amen.”

Yet, one of the most poignant moments came during the wedding homily. When it was announced that the Most Right Rev. Bishop Michael Curry, presiding Bishop of the American Episcopal Church, would deliver the sermon, sheer joy was expressed by members of my church and those of us who love him. Bishop Curry began his ministry in my hometown of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church and has been a powerful presence in my life. I am among many he has mentored and guided as we navigate finding our voices and place in the fight for justice. He continues to push one of the nation’s oldest and largest denominations to be even more progressive on issues such as gender equity in leadership, full LGBTQ inclusion, prison reform, and gun control. A strong proponent of human rights and social justice, he continues to be one of the leading progressive theological voices in America.

For a little more than 13 minutes, Bishop Curry reminded those in St. George’s Chapel and around the world of the radical and transformative power of love. He movingly stated that “there is power in love,” and “our lives are meant to live in that love.” One day after school shootings in the American cities of Santa Fe, Texas and Atlanta, Georgia—and days after the killing of many Palestinian protesters in Gaza—the world’s lack of love is palpable. Before one of the world’s great superpowers (two if you count how many Americans watched alongside Brits), Bishop Curry prophetically spoke to the truth that justice is rooted in love. When he reminded us of Jesus’s words, we were challenged to acknowledge that we cannot fully celebrate the love between Meghan and Prince Harry if we cannot commit to loving our neighbors as ourselves.

But this is what Bishop Curry does: He lovingly challenges us to remember our interdependence and responsibility to create just worlds that will enable us, as he said, to “treat each other like we are actually family.”

In a moment where Bishop Curry represented the boldness of progressive theology, he also brought the best of the Black preaching tradition. Though Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, he often recalls attending Baptist services with his grandparents as a child. It was in those spaces where Bishop Curry learned the mechanics of Black preaching. While many in attendance and watching might have found it unorthodox, his cadence and delivery was reminiscent of what most Black people experience every Sunday morning. In fact, had Bishop Curry preached that same sermon the next day in a Black church with a Hammond B3 organ, hands would be raised, shouts would fill the air, and more than a few would be in the aisles dancing. In short, he preached.

Black preaching is never without emotion: It leans into the depths of African Americans’ relationship with a God who has sustained and continues to sustain them throughout turbulent social times. Black faith is rooted in the belief that love ultimately triumphs over all forms of hatred, and when African American preachers stand within that trajectory, they shine. In fact, I would argue that it is Bishop Curry’s roots in the Black church that ground his social justice ministry—much like someone else we know.

Bishop Curry stands in the lineage of Black prophetic preachers like the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Bookending his homily with Dr. King’s words, Bishop Curry reminded us that Black preachers have always challenged the world to be better. In December 1964, in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, Dr. King himself preached that a love for humanity is one of “the three dimensions of a complete life.” In the 50th year since his assassination, the world has sought to remember and honor Dr. King. Much has included a revisionist history of America’s relationship with him. While Dr. King remained steadfast in his belief that love could change the world, it was not well received and, ultimately, led to his death.

Yet Bishop Curry reminded that the revolutionary call for us to love remains clear. And in his invocation of Black America’s ancestors, those who were enslaved in the antebellum South, he reminded us that this call to love, to confront bigotry and hatred, has always come most clearly from those whose voices are often stifled and silenced by many of the empirical powers represented in that sanctuary.

The excitement of celebrating the love between the royal couple is magnified by the delight in what it means for a revolution in the British monarchy and, quite possibly, the world. The wedding that introduced the world to the first Black Duchess of Sussex also prominently reminded that same world of the healing and prophetic power that comes from lifting Black voices. It was an intentional centering that the royal family—and all who witnessed this beautiful day—will not soon forget.

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