by Mary Scifres
Similar “either-or” attitudes frustrated Jesus. Despite a Pharisee judging a woman of ill repute unworthy of Jesus’ time and attention, Jesus continues to receive her attentions. As this woman bathes Jesus’ feet with her tears and her hair, Jesus reminds his followers that she has blessed and anointed him, whereas the Pharisee (the host of the dinner party) has not even bothered to offer a basin of water to wash his feet upon entering, let alone a kiss of welcome or an anointing blessing. Jesus then turns to the courageous woman who had given him all of these gifts, and offers her forgiveness and healing. He then sends her on her way, as he so often does, with the assurance that her faith has saved her and made her whole.[18] Where the Pharisee sees only a woman who has broken the rules of righteousness, sanctity, and cleanliness, Jesus sees a woman who has been created in the image of God, and who glows still with the potential for purity and cleanliness. Rather than cursing her or casting her out for her past transgressions, Jesus receives her hospitality, notices the deep remorse expressed in her tears, and extends his own hospitality in the form of forgiveness and an invitation to begin anew. Rather than judge her as either sinner or saint, Jesus heals her and makes her whole. In the same way, we are all healed and made whole in the image of our Creator.
This perspective of wholeness comes from seeing each and every human being as a divinely created child of God. In God’s creation, we are all perfect. From this perspective, there is no person incapable of love nor is there a person capable only of hatred and evil. Our imperfections may create bumps along the journey of living into that perfection, but they do not prevent the divine light from living in our very being. Our inability or unwillingness to love fully, as we are called to love, simply slows down our journey of expressing perfect love for God and neighbor. Our inner beauty is always there, encouraging us to shine forth with the light of God’s image.
Lack of Hospitality and Welcome: A Truly Beastly Perspective
Accepting the beautiful perspective that everyone is created in the image of God, and therefore capable of love, doesn’t mean beastly behavior doesn’t exist. In the 2017 film, we learn that the prince has been taxing people unjustly, living selfishly at their expense, and neglecting his role and responsibility as ruler. This is not just a man who hasn’t fallen in love; this is a man who refuses to offer even the most basic level of compassion and hospitality to those who most need his protection and care. If only his story were an unusual one! This story stands the test of time precisely because we have all known and seen the Beasts in our world forsake journeys of transformation by rejecting the needs of others, resisting actions of love and compassion, and refusing to offer even basic hospitality to those who need it most.
Witness our world’s long struggle to welcome new immigrant communities, even into countries that have been built from immigrant populations. Reflect on the long history in the United States of racial segregation—segregation legally mandated in many states for much of this country’s history. Illegal as such segregation may be in 21st century North America, inhospitable divisions and unwelcoming attitudes are still reflected in neighborhoods, churches, and schools throughout the cities and towns of this diverse corner of the world. Such a lack of basic human hospitality reflects a beastly perspective of self-absorption and neglected compassion.
In French medieval culture, like first century Palestine, the basic ethic of hospitality required those with power and means to protect the widows and orphans in need of assistance and shelter. In ancient times, the extension or refusal of such hospitality was often the dividing line between life and death. Castles, forts, manors, and city walls were built to protect communities from the dangerous world outside of civilization. A fortress stood as a welcome sign of hope to people traveling from one destination to another, particularly as darkness fell or inclement weather arrived. Any weary traveler could expect to find safety and at least a modicum of welcome at the doors of a French medieval castle; for the prince and his royal household were responsible for all of their subjects, not just those who resided within the castle walls.
Scripture guides us to this same welcoming, hospitable perspective of seeing others, particularly those in need, with the eyes of love and compassion. Stories teaching the importance of hospitality are frequent throughout both the Hebrew Scriptures (Old Testament) and the gospels of the New Testament. Sadly, the stories are so numerous precisely because hospitality is so often neglected—even by communities founded upon the ethic of hospitality. A welcoming, hospitable perspective is beautiful and loving; and when lived, creates communities and strengthens relationships. When we lack this perspective, we bring our own beastly attitudes and outcomes to potentially life-giving encounters. Maintaining a welcoming and accepting perspective, in both attitude and action, creates transformative communities and strengthens our journeys toward transformation.
Regrettably, maintaining this welcoming and accepting perspective has challenged nations and peoples throughout human history. Jesus witnessed this struggle in the Roman and Jewish communities of his day. Hospitality was a common expectation among both Greeks and Romans in ancient times. Often viewed as a sacred obligation instituted by the gods, the ethic of offering hospitality to strangers held their communities together. Within Judaism, rules of hospitality were shared through the telling of ancient stories long before they were ever written down and codified into Jewish law. Jesus was well aware of this ethic, even as he knew the challenge people experienced abiding by it. Not only did Jesus’ own family lack lodging on the day of his birth, they were forced to flee their homeland to escape a murderous Jewish king.[19] Raised on the stories of his faith and nurtured by scriptural decrees depicting how people were to treat one another, Jesus weaves these lessons into his own stories—stories that teach the importance of caring for strangers, neighbors, friends, family, and those in need.
Jesus speaks again and again of the importance of welcoming the stranger. In The Good Samaritan, perhaps the most famous of all the gospel parables, Jesus illustrates that loving one’s neighbor means extending hospitality when it is most needed, regardless of how convenient it is or what we may think of our neighbor.[20] In this lesson-story, a man who was beaten during a robbery lies by the side of the road in need of help. As he lies there, a priest and a Levite pass him by—people who know and teach the religious requirement of hospitality. Astonishingly, a kind Samaritan offers assistance to the man, even though Jews and Samaritans typically despise one another. Jesus lifts the Samaritan to hero status, in contrast to the priest and Levite who pass the victim by. This story offers a two-fold lesson in hospitality. First, when someone is in trouble, we are to stop what we are doing in order to offer assistance. Second, don’t be surprised when hospitality is offered, or denied, by those we least expect. A tree is judged by the fruit it bears. “By their fruit you will recognize them,” Jesus advises.[21] A Samaritan, who bears good fruit, can be the kind-hearted hero of a story; and a priest and Levite, who bear bad fruit, can be the hard-hearted bystander of a story.
To understand how scandalous this parable was to Jesus’ audience, some background is needed. In Jesus’ community, Samaritans were the “bad” descendants of Jacob, the ones who refused to center their religious life and worship in the land of Judah—which meant they were not Jews. Even though Samaritans were descendants of the ten tribes of Israel, they followed Samaritanism, rather than Judaism—worshipping at their own holy sites, rather than at Jerusalem’s holy temple, and neglecting the rules of the Pharisees who ruled Judaism in Jesus’ time. Worst of all, Samaritans lent assistance to the Babylonians when they invaded Jerusalem, destroyed Solomon’s Temple, and forced the people of Judah into exile in 586 BCE. Such sins just couldn’t be forgiven. And so, six centuries later, Jews continued to view Samaritans as traitors and apostates, worthy of loathing and contempt. Through the power of story, Jesus shatters this unassailable perspective and prejudice, offering a radically new perspective in its place. Namely, those who care for a
stranger with compassionate hospitality—regardless of heritage, label, or status—are to be praised for bringing the kingdom of God near, as they give fuel for the journey toward life-giving transformation; while those who withhold hospitality—regardless of their ethnicity, wealth, religious role, or social standing—are to be chastised for pushing the kingdom of God away, as they impede such life-giving growth.
Jesus offers a similar message in The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats. In this lesson-story, Jesus warns that when we fail to show hospitality to those in need, we neglect to show hospitality to God.[22] Only in welcoming the God-light in one another are we able to truly light our own path forward and light the path for others. When we neglect this calling, we limit our journey, and theirs as well. Through the power of story, Jesus teaches the importance of offering hospitality (at all times to all people) as he points out the divine connection between each and every created human being. We are all created in the image of God, and live as reflections of God’s likeness. By nurturing our connection with one another, we strengthen our connection with God and with the image of God at the core of our very being. We live into that image and reflect our divine light all the more brightly when we answer the vital call to care for the least and the last. Jesus calls attention to the importance of caring for these vulnerable members in the community, because the most vulnerable are so often neglected, despite the laws of hospitality established to guide cultures both then and now.
Things were not all that different at the time our fairy tale was written in 18th century France, governed equally by its royal history and its Catholic heritage. A young prince in a French Catholic kingdom would surely have known these lessons well. He would have known that casting an old woman back out in a storm would put her in harm’s way, perhaps even leading to her death. And yet, the prince of our story rejects the vulnerable woman at his door, as if her haggard appearance somehow exempts him from the expectations of a man in his position. Operating from a perspective that his likes and dislikes, his needs and personal preferences, trump the needs of others, the prince is blinded to a deeper perception of the woman. Self-absorption never leads us to manifest the most beautiful parts of ourselves. Indeed, the prince’s beastly perspective leads the enchantress to change his outer appearance to reflect the repulsiveness within. While the powerful enchantress possesses no spell that can transform the prince’s unloving heart, perhaps another enchanting hero one day will. As we will see in our final chapter, the seeds for the prince’s transformation are actually hidden in the enchantress’ spell. For the spell contains a blessing whereby a creature filled with love will drift into the prince’s life and teach him how to love, even as he learns to receive love from this special being of love. And so, our story turns to a young girl living in a small French village with a dreamer’s mind and an optimist’s loving heart—a heart big enough to save a beast.
Dreams: A Sacred Perspective
When our story leaves the castle to focus on a small French village, we hear Belle singing of the townsfolk as simple and quaint; we also hear the townsfolk singing of Belle as a dreamer with her head in the clouds. To the villagers, Belle is an enigma. She is a beautiful young woman dreaming her life away. To Belle, the villagers are trapped by the limits of their dreams. Their lives are predictable and small, lacking imagination. Neither sees the other in the fullness and complexity they deserve. The villagers’ perspective on dreamers prevents them from perceiving how much larger life might be outside their village. And Belle’s perspective on those who are happy with a simple, country life prevents her from seeing the richness of village life: a woman gathering food to feed her large family; merchants preparing their wares and opening their busy shops; a young man wandering the streets, wondering about his future marital life; a wonderful, wise mentor sharing his love of books with the beautiful young daughter of the local inventor.
When Belle’s dreams lead her to sit in judgment on her neighbors, they lose their sacred power to help her see and envision a world where everything belongs. Belle is left with a naïve perspective of neighbors who are far from simple. When Gaston stirs up the townsfolk toward our story’s climax, we are reminded that people who live on the edge of survival are fierce in their determination to protect themselves and their loved ones from perceived threats like Beast. We underestimate such people at our own peril.
Fortunately, Belle’s dreams also bring a wide-open, broad-minded perspective to her own future story. Here, her dreams have a sacred dimension that is seen in all the world’s great dreamers. Jesus is very much a man of sacred dreams himself. As a descendent of Jacob, the father of holy dreamers, how could he not be? Jacob dreamed of a stairway to heaven—a ladder connecting earth and sky with angels moving freely up and down its rungs to aid the descendants of Abraham. But Jesus’ dreams were even bigger. Jesus dreamed of a stairway connecting heaven to all of God’s children—even tax collectors and sinners, lepers and outcasts, Samaritans and Gentiles, children and widows. Jesus talks, dines, and shares his healing touch with these unlikely recipients of God’s mercy and care, these surprising citizens of the realm of God. Jesus dreams God’s dream of a world where none shall hurt or destroy one another. Dreamers carry the power of the One who bestows us with dreams.
When Belle allows the sacred dimension of her dreams to guide her perspective and perception, she sees greatness and possibility in the most unlikely of candidates: her beloved horse Philippe, who almost seems more a spiritual guide than simple companion to Belle; her father, whom she believes in and trusts unequivocally; her book-loving mentor (a sort of priest-teacher in the 2017 film, a fun spin on the loving bookseller from the 1991 film); and even the great outer world, as she sings to the heavens and the wider world of her hopes and dreams. As Belle runs across the fields and sings of her dreams and hopes for the future like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, we see the echoes of Jacob’s ladder connecting her to the heavens. As she dreams her dreams, Belle almost seems aware that she is surrounded by angels of possibility, revealing songs yet to be sung, and sacred connections yet to be touched.
And so, this young dreamer brings her sacred seeing to a most amazing place of adventure—an enchanted castle, cursed by its own limiting perspectives, yet brimming with possibilities for transformation. This dreamer enters a world where a magical enchantment rules over its residents, hiding their path toward blessings and transformation. Belle is about to change the castle’s fortune upon her arrival, for Belle is guided by her own blessed dreams—she is not ruled by the nightmares that haunt the castle.
Creativity and Imagination: A Holy Invention
Belle is more than a just a dreamer, she is blessed with the gifts of imagination and creativity. Much to the consternation of her village, Belle is a creative and imaginative inventor like her father. In almost all versions of this fairy tale, Belle loves reading and explores worlds that can only be imagined, not seen. Reading is the muse that sends Belle to faraway lands and wondrous dreams. Books unlock her mind in the mystical way of the creative arts. Disney’s 2017 film expands Belle’s creative nature by depicting her as an inventor in her own right—a sort of renaissance woman who draws up plans, and experiments with new possibilities, like her father before her. With an inventor’s imagination and an artisan’s skill, Belle cleverly constructs a device that will wash the household’s laundry while she teaches a young girl to read, sharing with that child a world beyond the village’s borders.
In the 1991 film, a binocular-style peephole at her front door, a mechanical woodcutter in her basement, and a waterwheel powering her home invite Belle to see the world more creatively each and every day. In the 2017 film, she is surrounded by complex music boxes, beautiful paintings, and piles of sketches exploring memories and dreams yet to come. She and her father are not limited by the routines that define the boundaries of their neighbors’ lives. They share a dreamer’s perspective, believing creativity, imagination, and innovation are more important than blindly f
ollowing social expectations and established ways of doing things. Belle positively bursts with creative, inventive energy—an energy that pushes her to see the world in new and imaginative ways and to question the limitations of unquestioned assumptions and prejudices.
Jesus makes good use of both creativity and imagination. Through parables and lessons, Jesus explodes the unquestioned assumptions and prejudices of his day. When asked who is to blame for a man being blind since birth (the man or his father), Jesus says, “Neither.”[23] By challenging their assumption that bad things don’t happen to good people, and by shifting their perspective away from the need to blame someone for life’s tragedies, Jesus directs his hearers’ attention to the miracle he is about to perform—giving sight to this blind man and displaying God’s creative, glorious, healing power. At another time, when confronted by a perspective of scarcity, Jesus challenges his audience to set aside their fear and place their trust in God’s providential care. Inviting the crowd into the spaciousness of imagination, Jesus asks them to consider the birds that soar carefree upon the winds. If God provides for the birds of the air, which are sold two for a penny, how much more will God provide for them, who are worth so much more? Likewise, inviting the crowd into the freedom of a changed perspective, Jesus asks them to consider wildflowers in a field, which neither spin nor toil; yet Solomon in all his glory was not adorned with such God-given beauty.[24]