By Kathy Burken
On Deck
Not only did I find the Wicked Witch of the West (Elphaba) in the recent film, “Wicked for Good” intriguing, I saw it as a morality play worthy of consideration in a spiritual/religious context. Margaret Hamilton’s interpretation of the witch in the 1939 film, “The Wizard of Oz,” was that of an evil character and malevolent ruler with a sketchy backstory determined to wreak havoc anywhere and everywhere.
The reinvented Elphaba, on the other hand, is a fundamentally good but misunderstood anti-hero. Born with green skin and magical powers, she became the scapegoat of the Wizard and Madam Morrible, bent on upholding her reputation. We witness her grace in her friendship with the Good Witch, Glinda. This new version of the original story by L. Frank Baum is even more of a parable with Elphaba as a modern everywoman.
Elphaba had the best of intentions when she inadvertently created those three flawed characters on the yellow brick road headed to see the Wizard. In her desperation to save her friends Boq and Fiyero from dying, she chants incantations using words she admits she doesn’t understand. As Boq’s heart shrinks, Elphaba changes him into a man of tin who can live without a heart. As her great love Fiyero is attacked, she wants him to be indestructible, and the outcome is a man made of straw. Years earlier, she and Fiyero saved a lion cub from torture, but the animal’s fear of pain turned him ever cowardly.
Seeing what her actions have done, Elphaba realizes that her “road of good intentions led where such roads always lead,” to misfortune. Fed up and frustrated, she decides never to do a good deed again, or even intend to do one. She sings, “One question haunts and hurts, too much, too much to mention: Was I really seeking good or just seeking attention? Is that all good deeds are when looked at with an ice-cold eye? If that’s all good deeds are maybe that’s the reason why.” In Elphaba’s mind, no good deed goes unpunished. She isn’t creating canonical truth but a description of her life so far. In resignation, she says “never again.”
The parable of good intentions gone awry is one many of us can relate to. We just can’t do anything right. No matter our good intentions, life just turns on us. Like Elphaba, we give up trying to be good, and begin to embody our belief in our self-fulfilling prophecies.
Feeling dejected and powerless, Elphaba questions the value of virtue and her sense of self. Her unusual skin color gave bullies plenty of fodder for abuse and the actual wicked characters in her life maligned her after she revolted against them. She is marked as the evil one, so taking advantage of her magical powers, she became someone to be feared.
When we carry shame, guilt, and anger born from rejection, helplessness, or victimization, we create emotional, psychological, and spiritual armor, often acting out in ways that defy our true nature. Our pain can cause us to quit when it seems that every time we try to do good, we fail miserably. God is nowhere to be found, and if others perceive us as wicked, we might just as well justify their beliefs.
Our motto echoes that of Elphaba’s: no good deed goes unpunished. We can’t win for trying. Everything we touch turns to stone. We feel doomed.
However much Elphaba was blind to her goodness, Glinda and Fiyero redeemed her with their love. Elphaba moved from isolation to acceptance, eventually finding strength in being true to herself.
The parable of Elphaba is one of hope, faith, and love. God was always present in those who loved her, as God is present in our lives, often expressed by others who see us for the child of God that we truly are.
(Kathy Berken is a spiritual director and retreat leader in St. Paul, Minnesota. She lived and worked at L’Arche in Clinton — The Arch from 1999-2009.)
