The Gospel According to Beauty and the Beast

by Mary Scifres

  We Don’t Need an Enchantress to Be Cursed

  Although this is a fairytale story of enchantments and spells yet to be broken, Beast’s predicament points to the truth of a larger story: We become imprisoned when self-centeredness is the force that rules our lives, and when selfish motivations define our decisions and actions. In a world that rewards self-promotion, personal success, and personal gain at the expense of others, self-centeredness and selfishness can easily become the highest values that guide us. No enchantress is required to curse us into following selfish pursuits, neglecting our body’s health, denying our soul’s higher desires, and turning away from our community’s needs. We see this curse in our addictions to food, alcohol, drugs, shopping, and gambling. We feel this curse in isolationist attitudes that have us washing our hands of responsibility for violence and poverty in our world. This beastly curse destroys the very foundation of our lives, as personal gratification slowly erodes our spiritual strength and our capacity for love, grace, and compassion. Without a spiritual foundation of love, grace, and compassion, beauty and light dim and fade.

  Beast knows this only too well. Before Belle brought love and beauty into his life, he had no magical antidote to the curse of selfishness. But as his love grows and his self-giving expands, he inwardly becomes the handsome prince he yearns to reclaim—a prince his servants have been pulling for all along.

  Serving Out of Duty

  The castle servants have served the young prince his entire life, suffering alongside him during the long years of the enchantress’ spell. Faithfully performing their duties, they have cared for Beast, Belle, and one another. While duty and obligation initially drive their service, they eventually find the hope and courage to believe they can save their castle and master.

  The servants of Beast’s castle are similar to the servants of Jesus’ parables, whose lives and roles were defined by the Roman world in which he lived. Servants and slaves serve because they are required to do so. In a hierarchical society, they survive in the lowest levels of power and authority. In Jesus’ parables, when these servants perform their duties well, they are merely doing what is required of them. But when they fail to perform their duties well, he uses them as literary examples of moral failure. No wonder preachers and teachers struggle to interpret these ancient parables in ways that are useful and edifying in the 21st century!

  Things had not changed significantly when this fairy tale was penned in 18th century France. As in Jesus’ parables, these castle characters exist to serve their master. The chain of command is clearly delineated: As master of the castle, Beast has all of the power and authority, whether he deserves it or not. Their loyalty derives from their station in life, rather than any self-giving ethic on their part. The castle servants of this story, however, are remarkable in their sincere compassion and love for their master—even in the face of his cruelty and his responsibility for their enchanted condition.

  This had once been a castle filled with servants of all ages and backgrounds, in the tradition of the European Middle Ages. Not quite as dignified as the cast in Downton Abbey, Beast’s servants follow a similar chain of command and represent as diverse a make-up as we would find in any 19th century English or French novel. Transformed by the enchantress’ spell into common household items, the servants continue to serve their beastly master—loving and caring for him as best they can, despite his beastly temper and their altered forms. Even in their strange circumstances, they function as they had before in their interactions with one another. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, and the chief steward, Cogsworth, debate over “best practices” when Maurice arrives uninvited to the castle. The same disagreements emerge when Belle leaves her room in search of a meal after Beast has forbidden it. The maître d’, Lumiere acts as master of ceremonies and vocal artist for Belle’s luxurious feast when he is not flirting with the maid.

  Even back in the village, Gaston has a faithful, if sycophantic, sidekick, LeFou, who gives selfless service to his powerful master. For most of the film, LeFou is a jester-like character, always humorous and helpful, serving dutifully as he knows he must. When Gaston pounds LeFou on the head or drops a chair on him, it seems to be more for the benefit of comic relief than anything else. But when LeFou obeys Gaston’s command to stand faithfully in snow while awaiting Belle’s or Maurice’s return, or when he travels into the dangerous forest with Gaston, even LeFou seems willing to sacrifice himself in service to Gaston.

  Since ancient times, servants have been used in literature to provide more than entertainment; they convey valuable lessons to those both inside and outside the story. The servants in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast are no exception. Shakespeare used servants and messengers to forward the plot in his plays, in much the same way Chip forwards the plot in the 1991 film when he asks Belle why she left the castle. For the viewer, LeFou’s playfulness takes the sting out of Gaston’s cruelty, helping us to laugh and even enjoy his twisted and sinister plots—thus keeping the movie safe for children and fun for adults. Similarly, the castle servants keep us aware of the spell’s terrible toll on everyone in the castle—helping us love Beast when he is cruel and angry, making us laugh as Belle and Beast get in a snowball fight, and leading us to cheer Beast on as he learns to love.

  Expanding in Service of Love

  Their roles and purpose change, however, when Beast’s servants assume the duty of defending the castle from the invading villagers. In the siege against the castle, these servants become yet another example of sacrificial love. During the village attack upon the castle, the castle servants display the transformative power of self-giving love, just as Beast and Belle before them. These servants defend the castle with their clever abilities as living household objects, protecting one another time and again. Mrs. Potts and her troop of teacups defend beer steins with their hot tea. Cogsworth saves Lumiere from being melted by sailing down the banister and plunging household scissors’ into the rear end of an unsuspecting LeFou, breaking his own strict adherence to proper castle behavior. Lumiere quickly recovers to use his powerful flames to save the lovely maid, turned feather duster, in a quick scene that is perhaps the most typical Prince Charming moment of the entire film. And finally, the knife drawer and stove defend the royal dog, turned footstool, with a burst of flame and operatic cry of power that sends the villagers fleeing in fear for their lives. The castle is saved, but more importantly, the servants show yet another example of sacrificial giving in this story of sacrificial love.

  These servants are no longer simply serving out of duty and obligation. After all, when informed of the impending attack, Beast replies dolefully: “It doesn’t matter now. Just let them come.”[58] As the servants disobey a direct command from their master, they are transformed from servants who merely do their jobs into self-defined warriors—a team of friends and colleagues who work together to save their home and their lives because they choose to do so, without reference to their master.

  No Longer Servants, but Friends

  These are no longer just servants, these are friends to their master—for they have defended a friend, too weak and sorrowful to defend himself. [59] They have defended his home, risking both their lives, and even their livelihood should Beast decide to dismiss them for their insubordination and disobedience. These servants are more than they were, and can help us delve more deeply into Jesus’ parables and proverbs about servants, slaves, and service to others.

  These servants have much to teach us—particularly those of us who live with more privilege and power than a 1st century slave or a 19th century servant. Although we may not be trapped in roles that require us to serve others out of obligation and duty, we may be trapped in rigid understandings of what serving God and neighbor actually means. Too many preachers and theologians teach that servanthood is a Christian obligation to be obeyed, rather than a natural outgrowth of love to be cherished. Too many religious leaders depict God as a cruel taskmaster who will punish us when we don’t serve fr
equently enough, perfectly enough, or lovingly enough. Some depictions of God seem more beastly than even the Beast of our fairy tale.

  In contrast, mystics and spiritual teachers of every tradition speak of union with God as an encounter with unconditional love and acceptance. As the great mystic, Julian of Norwich, writes: “The Lord looks at us with mercy, not with judgment. In our eyes, we do not stand. In God’s eyes, we do not fall. Both visions are true, but God’s is the deeper insight.”[60] We can spend our lives in fear of God’s wrath, or we can rejoice in God’s extravagant welcome and unfailing love. The choice is ours.

  When Jesus calls us to serve, he does so in hopes that we will serve, not as slaves to an angry God, but rather as faithful companions of the one who longs to gather us in, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.[61] We are called to give selflessly, not out of fear, but out of joyous gratitude. Self-giving love, freely given, does not cause us to lose ourselves, but rather to discover ourselves more fully as we grow into the fuller, freer, more beautiful versions of ourselves. Created as a human being, Beast can only become fully human when he learns to love and give of himself joyfully. Created in the divine image, we become the fullness of that divine image when we love and give in this way, growing in our relationship with both God and neighbor.

  We are called into union with God, as friends and companions with Christ. We are invited to serve out of love and joy, not out of obligation and duty. We are encouraged to serve out of faith and hope, not out of fear and trembling. Only then can we grow into self-giving servants who care for the least and the last, who courageously defend the weak and the vulnerable, and who gladly rejoice when others benefit from our gifts of service and care.

  Perfect Love Drives Out Fear

  In some parables, Jesus criticizes servants who shrink from their duties out of fear, or who serve out of obligation alone. He expects a frightened slave entrusted with one talent (the equivalent of a year’s wages) to make the value of that talent grow. Fearful that he might lose his master’s money, the slave plays it safe, burying the talent entrusted to him in the ground.[62] How my colleagues chafe at the ending to this parable, when Jesus says the slave will be cast into the outer darkness! Surely the gentle, loving Jesus we have come to know in Sunday School would never be so cruel, especially to someone who was afraid. Surely a beautiful enchantress would never turn a young prince into a beast for being selfish and unkind. But what if our parable and fairy tale have lessons to teach? What if both stories warn us that we create our own beastliness, and we cast ourselves into outer darkness, when we act out of selfishness and fear. Scripture assures us that “perfect love drives out fear,”[63] but what if the reverse is true as well? What if fear and despair have the power to thwart love’s bloom and to paralyze us into self-absorption?

  Think of Beast. His inner transformation has awakened his full humanity, and his outer transformation into a handsome prince is within his reach. Yet he hides in the West Wing, paralyzed by grief and despair, while his castle is under attack. The love within him has the power to drive out this grief and despair, but only if Beast embraces this last and greatest power of love. As bereavement counselors often teach: Grief is a process, but recovery is a choice. Love, like God, invites, but never compels. Beast has allowed love to fill his heart. The fullness of its holy and sacred power is in his grasp—but it will not give him courage and hope against his will. Perfect love may drive out fear, but only when we let it. The choice is ours.

  Finding Our Courage—Finding Our Purpose

  Only when Beast sees Belle again and he allows love to burst forth from within, does Beast find the courage and the hope to become fully human again; only then does he grow into the princely purpose he is called to fulfill. In the same way, it is only as the castle servants find their courage while working together and defending their home that they grow into their family-like purpose. Through a common struggle, and the courage required to meet it, the servants rediscover their gifts and purpose as the castle community.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, the servants embrace their responsibility to selflessly protect one another and their precious home. Cogsworth, so frightened about rule breaking early in the film, is fearless as he sails down the banister to save Lumiere. Gone is the scared little steward, fearful of disappointing the master, and so worried about Beast’s explosive temper. This tiny mantle clock has transformed into a giant grandfather clock of a man—ready to take on the world. Perhaps even ready to take on his master, should Beast remain as lost and fearful as he’s been in the past.

  Like the servants of Beast’s castle, we can find the courage to grow and expand through self-giving love. As we realize that the world we serve is not only God’s world, but also our world, we recognize that this world needs our gifts and our giving. What a joy it is to love and serve, when we realize that the people we are called to love and serve are not just God’s people, they are our people!

  We are, after all, one human community, living on one planet earth. Together we share a common purpose: to strengthen our community through love and service, and to take care of our planet. Sharing a birthright as God’s children, we are not just servants to one another, we are family and friends. We are not just servants to our God, we are partners and reflections of God’s very image. We are blessed by the divine Spirit in our lives, that we might be a blessing to others. When we bless God, we bless one another. When we bless one another, we bless God. When we bless God, we bless God’s world. When we bless God’s world, we bless God. Funny how that works.

  We are intimately connected in ways that are impossible to fathom. Just as Beast’s servants are drawn into his fateful enchantment, they are blessed by his transformation into the beautiful being he was created to be. And just as we are drawn into one another’s sorrows, and failings, we are also blessed by every act of transformation that brings beauty and sacred power into our lives and our world.

  When Fear Leads Us Astray

  When Belle leaves Beast to save her endangered father, all three are drawn into a tragic situation. While Beast sinks into despair and laments the loss of his beloved, Belle is so fearful of losing her father that she cannot perceive the danger her village poses to herself, her father, and to Beast. Belle’s family crisis turns tragic, as Gaston whips the community into a frenzied mob, and has Belle and Maurice imprisoned so they cannot warn Beast of the villager’s impending attack. In trying to save her father, Belle has simply exchanged one form of imprisonment for another. Worse yet, after rescuing her father from incarceration in Beast’s castle, Belle now finds herself the cause of her father’s imprisonment at the hands of a man who looks like Prince Charming but who acts like a beast.

  It is worth pondering that this story might have unfolded very differently. If Beast had not found it in his heart to release Belle and had kept her as his prisoner, Gaston might have been the true hero of this story: risking his life to rescue the poor maiden locked away in an enchanted castle. But Beast does find it in his heart to release Belle, and Gaston does not have the heart of a hero. As Belle pleads for her father’s freedom, the plot twists unexpectedly. In trying to protect her father from Gaston’s evil plot, Belle inadvertently endangers Beast, by showing Gaston and the villagers Beast in the magic mirror.

  As Gaston hears Belle’s loving depiction of Beast and sees the affection in her eyes, Gaston plays on the villagers’ fears, riling up the crowd to fear and hate this beast who might one day terrorize their village. Playing upon their passions, Gaston inflames the community’s suspicions and stereotypes about magic, beasts, and the danger of the unknown. We are often quick to fear those we do not understand; and we are far too ready to sacrifice those we perceive to be a threat. Fear can lead us astray, blinding us to the chance of transforming an adversary into a friend or ally—a friend who might bring joy to our lives and to our world. Without the courage to expand and grow, our journey toward transformation may be delayed or even blocked, and the world may miss
out on a beautiful blessing.

  No one in the early church believed that Saul, who persecuted the early Christian community, was anything more than an evil man to be feared and loathed. No one would have believed he could be transformed through an encounter with love and grace on the road to Damascus into the greatest evangelist the church has ever seen. A dead Saul could not have become the Apostle Paul, who wrote so much of the New Testament. A dead Beast could not have transformed a cursed castle or become a blessing to the territory in his royal care.

  The Final Sacrifice

  When Belle races back to the castle to warn her beloved Beast and his castle servants, she cries out to Gaston for mercy as he stands poised to take Beast’s life. At the sound of Belle’s voice, Beast awakens from his grief-filled despair, and with something now to live for, defeats Gaston and suspends him by the throat over the castle wall. Looking into Gaston’s eyes and perhaps recognizing the lost soul he has recently been, Beast realizes that he is no longer a beast and refuses to act like one. Seeing this enemy through the eyes of his transformed heart, Beast’s anger is transformed by empathy and understanding. In this transformation, we begin to glimpse the heroic prince within—a prince that has been emerging since love’s transformative power took seed and began to grow.

  As Beast offers compassion and mercy to Gaston, a new type of self-giving love transforms the cruel beast into a kind-hearted warrior. The artistry of the animation and acting is powerful in this scene—Gaston devolves into a frightened little boy with huge eyes, desperately seeking mercy, while Beast’s face grows gentler and smoother. Beast’s eyes, formerly crinkled in anger, now open in wonder and reflection, as they see Gaston with new-found empathy—perhaps even recognizing similarities between their two lives.