This past Friday, the highly anticipated sequel to last year’s “Wicked” movie was released. In case you need a refresher of the first movie before seeing the second, I’m happy to help. Wicked is kind of a prequel to “The Wizard of Oz”; it tells the story of the Wicked Witch of the West long before she meets Dorothy. Far from being a malevolent sorceress, the witch (whose name is Elphaba) actually starts as a shy teenage outcast whose skin had been bright green since birth. She turns out to be quite a likeable protagonist: she’s fiercely protective of her younger sister and has an unshakable sense of justice, especially when it comes to anyone that Ozian society has deemed “less than”.
When she begins her studies at Shiz University, she’s forced to share a room with the most popular girl on campus, Galinda (who later renames herself “Glinda” - long story). The two young women loathe each other at first, but eventually become best friends. When Elphaba shows an aptitude for magic and is invited to meet the leader of Oz - the Wizard - Glinda goes with her. Elphaba is hopeful that she and the wizard will be able to help the citizens of Oz together, but soon realizes that he’s a manipulative despot intent on using any means necessary to advance his own agenda. Angrily, she vows to stop him. In response, he launches a vicious propaganda campaign to turn all of Oz against her, branding her as a “wicked” witch. Glinda, however, is hesitant to make an enemy out of the wizard, and despite her love for Elphaba, chooses to stay behind instead of fleeing and joining the rebellion. So there you go - the first half of “Wicked” in 300 words or less.
Although “Wicked” the musical premiered on Broadway more than twenty years ago, its story still feels surprisingly relevant today. The vast majority of people I spoke to after seeing last year’s movie saw our current national context mirrored almost point for point in its narrative (although, of course, people with different political perspectives had vastly different opinions about who each character represented). But as prescient as it may seem, “Wicked” isn’t just an allegory for our own time. If the ancient Israelites had some way to catch a matinee, I bet they’d see their political situation reflected in it, too. They’d probably identify themselves with the outcast Elphaba, forced into exile by the manipulative and evil Wizard (who represents the Babylonians, of course). The parallels would be clear as day for them - good guy versus bad guy.
But here’s the thing: as dramatic and exciting as the relationship between Elphaba and the Wizard is, it’s not the one at the heart of the story. The Wizard is not a main character. Instead, the relationship that the story REALLY hinges on is the one between Elphaba and Glinda. Unlike her black-and-white, good-guy-bad-guy dynamic with the Wizard, Elphaba’s relationship with her roommate-turned-bestie is complex. It’s the one that gives “Wicked” its depth, and it’s the one that does the most heavy lifting in showing us who Elphaba really is.
In fact, although the second half of the story is driven by the contrast between Elphaba and Glinda’s respective choices regarding the Wizard (no spoilers!), it’s how they choose to deal with each other that shapes the narrative as a whole. They start off as mortal enemies who absolutely hate each other - there’s a whole musical number devoted to their loathing. But when they manage to move past their knee-jerk reactions and practice even the smallest bit of empathy, their relationship transforms into something that changes both of their lives “For Good”.
In today’s scripture reading, the Israelites find themselves in a similar situation. After decades of dire warnings from many different prophets (including Jeremiah), the worst has finally happened: they’ve been assigned new roommates. No wait a second; I mean they’re exiled and forced to live among their Babylonian captors. In this moment, they probably feel something akin to what Elphaba and Glinda felt at first, only a million times stronger: unadulterated loathing. These people are the reason that the Israelites’ entire way of life was destroyed. No one would blame them if they broke out into a choreographed musical number in order to fully express all of their complicated negative emotions towards the Babylonians.
Advice was coming at them from all directions. Just like the ensemble egging Glinda on in her hatred for Elphaba, false prophets were more than happy to tell the exiled Israelites what they wanted to hear. “These circumstances won’t last very long; two years at most,” they’d say. “Stick to your guns and hold on to your anger; we’ll bounce back from this and become even more powerful than before!” But Jeremiah wasn’t having it. None of this was the truth, and if the Israelites followed this advice, he knew that it would set them up for even more failure in the long run. So he shared God’s unexpected instructions: settle in. Live your lives. Make peace with your new neighbors. Seek their wellbeing, because your fate is tied up with theirs.
This is hard advice for anyone to swallow: to live peaceably among people that you despise. How could this be right? The Babylonians caused the Israelites’ suffering. They are the enemy. Loathing feels like the ONLY appropriate response. But God puts the kibosh on this line of thinking by immediately redirecting the blame: “*I* am the one who carried you off from Jerusalem to Babylon,” God insists. “*I* have scattered you far and wide.”
While our theology rejects the idea of God causing bad things to happen, God’s choice to claim responsibility for the exile isn’t so much about demonstrating God’s wrath as it is about removing the Israelites' excuse to remain hostile towards the Babylonians. With this rationalization gone, the Israelites are forced to confront the reality that remains: that the Babylonians, flawed as they are, aren’t innately evil. They’re just people trying to live their lives the way they think is best. In spite of their pain and anger, the Israelites have to start thinking about the people that they hate as their neighbors - for their own good.
Glinda didn’t choose to side with the Wizard because she was evil. She chose his side because it seemed like the best option for her at that moment. I’m not saying her motivations were without fault, but her choice wasn’t rooted in malice. If Elphaba had never looked beyond her loathing of her roommate, she would never have been able to understand this, and she would have been utterly alone in her campaign against the Wizard - in fact, she would have had TWO enemies to fight. But because they’d each taken the time to try to understand each other as human beings - because they practiced empathy - they were able to help and support each other, despite the different paths their lives had taken. (Don’t worry; no spoilers!)
God insists that the real enemy for the Israelites isn’t the Babylonian people. Their “Wizard”, the ultimate “bad guy” in their story, is actually their own sin. The Babylonians are their Glinda. No matter what role they may have played in the exile, hating them isn’t going to fix the larger situation. And there’s a chance that, if they’re able to move past their loathing and actually work towards the wellbeing of their new roommate/neighbors, it would wind up helping them. That’s God’s promise to them in exile - a promise of peace, not disaster, and a future filled with hope. They just have to practice a little empathy and cooperation, and they will flourish.
So now comes the hard part. We have to apply this difficult teaching to our own lives. As I mentioned earlier, different people interpret each character in “Wicked” differently. So assuming you see yourself and people like you as Elphaba - who is YOUR Glinda? Which of your neighbors do YOU loathe? Which group of people do YOU blame for your suffering? The first thing that popped into your head was probably members of the opposing political party. That’s a good place to start - but who else? Maybe it’s members of a different generation than yours, or other Christians that are giving Christianity a bad name. Maybe it’s people from a culture that you don’t understand, or those who need more help than you’re willing to give. Be honest with yourself. None of these people are your enemies. They’re your neighbors. And like it or not, your welfare is tied up with theirs.
Of course, praying for them and engaging with them doesn’t mean overlooking harm or injustice. The Israelites were still expected to hold tight to their laws and religious identity. Elphaba always called Glinda out on her questionable choices. The point isn’t to get rid of tension and conflict altogether. The point is to remember that the people themselves, the beloved human beings who also bear God’s image, are not villains to be defeated. Injustice and suffering are the real enemies - and we need to fight it not only for ourselves, but also on behalf of the neighbors who frustrate and anger us. Because our wellbeing is bound up with theirs.
Even though Glinda supports the wizard, that doesn’t mean that she’s equivalent to the wizard. Elphaba holds her accountable, but never, ever makes her the enemy. That’s how God calls the Israelites to act during the exile, and that’s how God is calling us to behave towards those we vehemently disagree with - not with loathing, but with patience and forbearance. The false prophets of our time may tell us otherwise, but we have to resist their appeal to our negative emotions. Because like it or not, we’re stuck with each other, and it turns out that when we love our neighbor - or roommate, if you go to Shiz University - we’re not just being kind. We’re making an investment in the future that we’ll share. A future of peace and hope - which we could ALL use a little more of in these times. Amen.
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