I never thought I would dare say I know how the Prince of Wales feels – but unfortunately I can now.
Should he turn or stay, contact Harry on his return to England or avoid him?
Should he act like a wiser? big brother or decide that relations have deteriorated too far for that?
Every fiber in my body screams out: go for reconciliation, see if it is possible. Isn’t that what family means? Doesn’t the New Testament tell him that as the future supreme governor of the Church of England he should turn the other cheek?
Certainly, the story of the prodigal son has the message of welcoming an apostate member of the family back into the fold. The principle is the same for a brother: life is warmer together and colder apart.
And yet, my urge for a happy family reunion is brought to an abrupt halt when I think of one of my own brothers. We haven’t spoken in eight years and have no intention of doing so. I don’t even know where he lives.
In fact, I’m ashamed to admit this, as everything above indicates that we need to meet and reconcile. But sometimes theory and reality collide, and that certainly applies in our case.
The added sadness is that, like William and Harry, we were once very close.
Prince William and Harry are said not to have spoken for the better part of four years, and were last seen together in public at Charles’ coronation in May 2023.
There is a gap of thirteen years between us, and my mother often said that I was like a second father to him, changing his diapers as a baby, taking him to the local playground in the stroller, and spending time with him as he grew up.
It is difficult to pinpoint the moments when the relationship soured and the bond was severed. I left home for college and saw him a lot less. When I got home we had an argument. Somehow it turned into distrust and disgust.
When he was an adult, we also had very different views on how to care for our aging parents.
One result was that while living in the family home, he restricted access to my mother, initially at my expense and later at my children’s. He would say she was too sick to see them, which I found unlikely because she adored her grandchildren.
It ended with a complete blackout of all news about her – including her decline, so much so that we were not informed by him of her death or even the funeral.
Painful, especially for my children, who should not have suffered from whatever went wrong between him and me.
Have I tried to improve the relationship before? Yes, but looking back I can’t be sure I did my best.
I take some of the blame for the consequences, but certainly not all of it. I also know that we are not alone in our brotherly enmity.
Harry, Meghan and their children Archie and Lilibet recently returned to Britain, but relations between the brothers are complicated
It is certainly significant that the very first example of brothers in the Bible – Cain and Abel – is not a story of love harmony with violins in the background.
Instead, it’s a story about a dysfunctional relationship, about jealousy and anger that spirals so out of control that it leads to one killing the other. Biblical fratricide is at the extreme end of family feuds.
Most, thankfully, show only stubbornness, pride or a sense of betrayal – just ask the Gallagher brothers, who admirably completed their Oasis tour last year after a decade of bubbling hostility, or Brooklyn Beckham, who so publicly cut ties with his family on social media.
“Just pick up the phone and make it right,” I hear you shout in annoyance. It’s perfectly sensible advice, but it’s not that simple.
First of all, I feel like this is not my job, but the other person’s. He insulted me, so he has to make the first move!
Yes, it can be healthy to reconcile, but pride means I will respond but not take the initiative. The problem is that when both sides feel this way, the impasse continues.
Another obstacle is shame. It’s hard to say, “Hello, it’s me” after not speaking for so long and having lots of blue skies when we did.
I know the best course of action would be to write down a few lines so as not to blurt out something garbled, but that still raises two questions about how the other person might respond.
It is believed that the Waleses and the Sussexes have not communicated with each other for some time
What if he rejects the effort, repeats past insults, and hangs up the phone? Do I really want to expose myself to that rejection?
Or what if he accepts the approach and welcomes it wholeheartedly? That’s great in many ways, but it comes at the cost of letting go of my own resentment of past hurts and wiping the slate clean.
Maybe I’m just not ready for it. It’s much more comfortable to be wrapped in a blanket of anger and victimhood. It also saves me the question of where I might have gone wrong.
This is why I do not advise Prince William to extend the hand of peace to his brother. Sometimes a wound is best left untouched.
Instead, he was able to turn away and let go of the relationship completely.
There is, at the very least, an honesty in recognizing that there are points of no return, nor is one trading a deeply held belief for the meager reward of forced smiles and small talk at the next family function.
Therapists will argue that despite the initial discomfort that contact may cause, it can ultimately lead to mutual understanding and a rich relationship.
Maybe, but in my case I would like to be convinced of the odds and there are no guarantees.
Giving up your brother can be a painful situation, but at least it has been accepted, boxed up and put away. It will be even more painful to reopen it.
Yet it bothers me that as a minister of religion I have often encountered struggling families and my usual response was that they should err on the side of generosity.
But I also know that some pains cannot be forgotten and some misdeeds cannot be undone: Prince William has endured the shame of his brother revealing his private feuds to the world for a quick buck. My brother buried my mother without telling me.
This may not be a high moral or religious response that I could aspire to, but it is real. I regret it, but I won’t change it.
I really hope that Prince William can do better than me, but he will know very well that much depends on the wounds he has already suffered and the likely response he might receive.
– Jonathan Romain is author of Confessions Of A Rabbi, published by Biteback.
