With a budget of £100 million, it's hardly surprising that the adjective 'lavish' is by almost every reviewer to describe The Crown: the New York Times describes the ten part series as 'an orgy of sumptuous scenes and rich performances'.
And yet, there's a fragility, edginess and humanity in every scene. Queen Mary bluntly tells her granddaughter: while you mourn your father, you must also mourn someone else. Elizabeth Mountbatten. For she has now been replaced by another person. Elizabeth Regina. The two Elizabeths will frequently be in conflict with one another. The fact is, the Crown must win. Must always win'.
There are conflicts between instinct and impartiality; marriage vows and coronation oaths; promises made to a sister and commitment to the church; the business of government and ensuring good governance. It's a world where too much character, personality and knowledge are seen as dangerous.
An ordinary, modest young woman is anointed queen and is adorned as a goddess; or in the bitter words on the lips of the Duke of Windsor: 'we are half-people. Ripped from the pages of some bizarre mythology, the two sides within us, human and crown engaged in a fearful civil war, which never ends. And which blights our every human transaction as brother, husband, sister, wife, mother'.
As the director Stephen Daldry says: 'it's not just the story of a family, it's the story of post-War Britain'. The glamour and possibility of this new Elizabethan age is fraught with catastrophe. Hospitals are at breaking point as a result of the smog; rationing is ongoing; the impact of the abdication looms large; post-War becomes Cold War; the Suez Canal brings crisis and controversy; both Churchill and Eden face loss of power and loss of heath.
Untimely elevation to high office vies with thwarted personal ambition; devotion to public service tests other human loves and loyalties. What we thought were stable political realities jolt and shift like tectonic plates. We talk of metropolitan elites and those left behind; of experts and popular opinion; the will of the people and parliamentary representation.
This isn't just the stuff of The Crown - in reality or in lavish drama. It's the world as we know and experience it, locally, nationally and internationally.
This isn't just the stuff of Brexit and President-elect Trump. It permeates the life of the church as we grapple with authority, influence and faith in the public square.
This isn't just the stuff of 1918, 1947 and 2016. It's also the stuff of the Book of Daniel.
The story of the lions' den is more than a dramatic imaginative tale; it takes to the heart of the questions of our time. Questions for church, state and for each on of us as disciples of Christ.
How do we seek stability and God's peaceable kingdom in the mess and compromise of life?
How, in the responsibilities entrusted to us, do we live with integrity and faithfulness as people called by God?
Daniel's working within a system designed to ensure stability - and the security of the king. His service is distinguished by his excellent spirit. His brilliance was a threat to others; his promotion aroused suspicion of corruption. He led a life which was consistent and centred on God; that very steadfastness becomes a means to ensnare him.
An irrevocable ordinance signed by the king would not disrupt his pattern of prayer. When human authority was elevated to serve as an idol, he prayed. Regularly, openly and faithfully. In the mess of life, that is where we find mercy.
In the face of uncertainty, our laments, petitions, and hopes are uttered on our knees; they rise like incense to our heavenly Father. As Daniel found, praying is the most risky thing we can do. It changes us as we discern God's will and purpose for us; it changes the world as we, in Christ, commit ourselves afresh to love and service.
We hear of Daniel's fate through the words of a narrator attuned to the reaction of King Darius: he faces the implications of human attempts to manipulate and flatter. Vanity turns to distress. As the ink dries on the page, his own signature leads to condemnation rather than rescue. And yet, in fasting and sleeplessness he speaks of human faithfulness to God and of God's ability to deliver. Against all the odds, the blameless is unharmed; the accusers are overpowered.
In turbulent times, we justice, peace and stability can seem like a mirage.
It is then that we need to be both steadfast and prophetic in making it real.
In turbulent times, prayer is the anchor of hope.
It is then, we need that anchor more than ever.
In turbulent times, we pray without ceasing.
It is then that our Remembrance is held in God .
President Obama has frequently quoted Martin Luther King's remark that 'the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice'. We speak of the arc of God's kingdom. A kingdom of justice and equity which we only glimpse in our fragile earthly polity. In Jesus, that kingdom has come near; in his life, death and resurrection, he reveals the end of the story - that love wins. In his own teaching, he uses parables to explain how we are to live in the light of that truth.
So in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus isn't offering advice about how to sow seed effectively. Instead it is explained as a description of the impact of the proclamation of God's kingdom. We are good soil - we are in Christ. And yet, we too are subject to the cares of the world; the lure of prosperity chokes us; the cost of love disillusions us; the fear of lost status hardens authority.
Sower: Vincent van Gogh
For we are called to walk as disciples of Christ, the one in whom love divine was made perfect in human weakness.
In a turbulent world we are to articulate a vision of God's loving mercy as we exercise the responsibilities entrusted to us. We do that, because in Jesus we see and hear God's 'yes' to us and all creation. May the Spirit strengthen us as we embody with integrity a narrative of fruitful, fearless and forgiving love. May God's radiance bright illumine our us and our world; may those bright beams refracted in us bring hope and joy; transforming church and transforming lives.
© Julie Gittoes 2016
