Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Frozen and Theology of the Body: The Gospel According to Disney


*Warning: this post contains major spoilers to the movie Frozen, so if you have not seen it yet, go see it, then come back and read this*

When I first saw the trailer for the movie Frozen, I was not particularly interested in seeing it. My sister and I shared this view, and discussed how The Snow Queen was one of our favorite fairy tales as children, and from the trailer we could see that Frozen was a huge departure from the original story. The first trailer I saw was also only a short (which is not even in the film) about Olaf and Sven racing to get Olaf’s carrot nose, which has fallen off on the ice. It all just seemed a little ridiculous and silly to me. 

An image of the trailer I originally saw
 
But then, I started hearing rave reviews about it from my friends from grad school, and I started hearing some of the songs that were blowing up on Youtube; so I decided perhaps I did want to see it after all. Fast forward to February, when I finally got around to actually seeing it, and subsequently had my mind blown by the sheer awesomeness of the film.

This semester, I also happen to be taking a class on John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, and I could not help but notice some amazing parallels in Frozen, although it took several weeks of pondering to fully work them out into something coherent enough to post in a blog. I have read a few other posts about how Olaf represents Original Man and his original innocence, or about the theme of agape love in the film, but nothing quite like what was going on in my mind when I watched it.

I’m sure none of this was intentional by Disney, but why not use it for the glory of God?

Let’s start with Elsa. 


In the beginning...
Elsa represents humanity in general. We see her “in the beginning” completely happy with her powers (her “gift”), using it for creativity and fun, and enhancing her close relationship with her sister, Anna. In my interpretation, Anna represents God or, more specifically, Christ. So, “in the beginning” Elsa and Anna have a close relationship (just like humanity had with God in the Garden of Eden “in the beginning”), and Elsa sees the beauty of her own identity and gift/power. Her gift represents that gift that we all have as human beings – our gift of self, which is expressed in a particular way through our sexuality.

According to John Paul II, our sexuality means the fact that our bodies are sexed, that is, either male or female, and that this aspect of our bodies is meant to show us that we are created for self-donation. In other words, we are called to give ourselves to another. In marriage, a man is called to give himself to his wife (and vice versa), and the body becomes the way in which he gives himself to her, not just physically, but totally – his whole self, body and soul.

However, this potential for self-gift, particularly in the context of sexual activity, but also in the context of any human relationship in which there is love and sharing of self, also carries within it a potential to hurt others or be hurt by another.

In Frozen, this concept is expressed by the Troll King, who tells Elsa about her power “there is beauty in it, but also great danger.” It is significant that he tells her this right after she has injured her sister, Anna, with her power. We can see this as an analogy to humanity’s broken relationship with God through Original Sin. Instead of trusting God, Adam and Eve “injure” him by breaking his trust and eating the forbidden fruit, which leads to them being ashamed and afraid of him. When God comes looking for them, they hide, much like Elsa is hidden away from Anna because she and her parents are afraid she will hurt her again. Obviously, there are a lot of factors in the Genesis story that do not line up perfectly with the plot in Frozen, but this is a basic analogy between the two.

The Troll King also tells Elsa “you must learn to control [your power]; fear will be your enemy.” This is essentially what Christ tells us about our passions – we must learn self-control and attain self-mastery to avoid hurting ourselves and others, but we must also “not be afraid,” since fear is an enemy that keeps us from making a true self-gift, which always involves vulnerability.

However, Elsa’s well-meaning parents mistakenly interpret the Troll King’s words, and tell her “conceal it; don’t feel it.” This is not the same as self-control and self-mastery, which allows us to rightly order our passions towards the good, but is actually a suppression of the true self with all its feelings. Because Elsa is forced to try to suppress her gift out of fear, she ends up struggling more, becoming more isolated (even from her parents), and she has even less control of her powers. 

  
I compare this particularly to sexuality, because it is such an easy analogy, and something that so many people struggle with. Like Elsa, when we try to suppress our sexuality, instead of learning true control, those urges often come out in times of intense emotion (particularly negative emotion), and can manifest as sin. Part of this is because of a denial of the goodness of the gift of sexuality, and failure to act in a way that respects that goodness. Instead, the true goodness is overlooked and the potential danger becomes the focus. In Elsa’s case, this is a denial of the goodness of her gift/power, which is seen only as dangerous and something to be feared because it has the potential to harm others or us, much like our sexuality does when not used properly.

Elsa's powers when she is afraid
When Elsa is ultimately put in a stressful situation, we see her lose control of her power. When she finally does “let go” without fear of hurting others (she thinks), we see that the power she has is creative, beautiful, and even life-giving. When she reacts out of fear, her power manifests in a way that pushes others away – all the icicles, etc. are jagged and threatening to others. But when she is removed from the place of fear, the snow and ice is smooth, beautiful, and she even creates new life in Olaf the snowman. However, she still has the isolation mentality, and does not share her creative gift with others out of fear of how people will perceive her. 

This is similar to how sin isolates us, but also how our sin affects the community (the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ). Elsa thinks that her power is only affecting her, now that she is isolated on the mountain, meanwhile the snowstorm she created is still affecting those she left behind in her kingdom. This is why we, as Catholics, go to a priest for confession, because as part of the Church (the mystical Body of Christ), we are all connected, and even our personal sins affect others in ways we may not be able to see, much like Elsa could not see how her powers were affecting others. Once alone on the mountain, Elsa believes that she is free and fully herself. Although we do see a glimpse of this in the beautiful and life-creating manifestation of her powers, we also see how deep inside, she is trapped by the same fear, which imprisons her in “a kingdom of isolation.”
Here we also see how Elsa's powers start to turn in against her, so it is not just keeping people out, but keeping her trapped inside alone, much like our sin does to us
True freedom leads to self-control, not simply suppression, and is guided by love, not fear since “perfect love casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18). Similarly, it leads to communion, not isolation. When Anna tries to convince Elsa to come down the mountain with her, we see this invitation to communion and redemption. In their reprise of the song “For the First Time in Forever,” Elsa insists that although she is alone, she is “alone and free” and tells Anna “just stay away and you’ll be safe from me.” Anna recognizes that Elsa is not truly free, since she is isolated by her fear, telling her “for the first time in forever, we can fix this hand in hand…you don’t have to live in fear, because…I will be right here.” However, Elsa rejects Anna’s offer because she does not believe she can “reverse the storm” she’s made.

This is one of my favorite parts of the movie, not only because the song is amazing, but because it says so much about how we often react to Christ when we are in sin. Like Elsa, we often mistakenly think that our sins are too great to overcome, even with help – and even with help from Christ himself! Like Anna, Christ invites us to “face this thing together” and “make the sun shine bright” by reversing the storm made by our sins.

Now here’s the best part…

Elsa’s rejection of Anna’s offer of help and freedom can be likened to our rejection of Christ. Like Anna’s heart, which is pierced by Elsa’s ice, Christ’s heart is pierced by our rejection of him. This rejection is most dramatically seen in his passion and death on the cross, in which his heart is literally pierced by the centurion’s spear, but more so by people rejecting his love. Like Christ, Elsa’s rejection of Anna pierces her heart and she dies because of this rejection. 


 However, also like Christ, Anna dies to save Elsa – an act of true, sacrificial love as a complete self-gift for the good of the other. This act of love leads to Anna’s “resurrection,” which shows Elsa the true meaning of love and enables her to submit her power (her “gift”) to that love, which frees her from her prison of fear, and reunites her with her community. This can be compared to how Christ offers us the gift of his grace and the gift of redemption, which he accomplishes through his sacrifice of love on the cross. This gift of redeeming love and grace enables us to attain self-mastery, and use our gift of self (and our sexuality in particular) to bring about communion and life. Elsa’s power, when under the control of love, leads her to communion with her sister and her kingdom, so she is no longer isolated, and is able to use her gift to bring joy to others.

Anna shows Elsa what true love is – “love is putting someone else’s needs before yours” and “some people are worth melting for” (Olaf). Similarly, Christ shows us that we are worth dying for, and it is his sacrifice of love on the cross that not only teaches us how to love, but gives us the love and redeeming grace that enables us to live a life of love. The love that Christ offers us leads us to true freedom and self-mastery, as well as to communion with himself, the Church, and others (our neighbors) so that we are freed from fear and isolation, and our gift of self becomes life-giving.


Sunday, March 2, 2014

The Beauty of Presence

I started writing this post after I had been living at home with my parents in California for about four months. Their house is very full - both of my sisters are at home, and my grandparents (my father's parents) live with them in their own separate apartment downstairs. This was always the plan when my parents bought our house over 16 years ago. No, they didn't plan on having three adult children at home, but they bought the house with my grandparents in mind. They moved in with us 7 years ago, and it has been a blessing having them home with us. We always lived within 3 miles of them, so having them close was nothing new, and I instantly loved being able to just walk downstairs to visit with them, and share in my grandmother's traditional Portuguese cooking.

My grandparents enjoying each others' company before her dementia worsened

However, in the last couple of years, my grandmother's health has deteriorated, and she now struggles with the daily cross of dementia/Alzheimer's. Although it has been a blessing having her in the same house where my father and our family can help care for her, it has also been a great cross and trial for him, his brother (who lives nearby and often comes over to help as well), and the rest of our household. My grandmother often thinks that she is back in Portugal, but does not recognize her own home, and will try to leave the house to walk home to her mother's house in Faial (the Portuguese Island where she was raised), which she believes is nearby. In her altered state, she often has fits of hysteria and crying, and I can only imagine her pain and confusion as she cries out through sobs: "I want to go home; I'm alone and scared; I don't know why my family is punishing me by sending me here alone without my family; I think the people here are trying to poison me; they want to kill me; I want to go home..."

Many times, while I was living at home, I had the blessing of helping calm her down during several of these fits. I say blessing because, despite her anguish and the difficulty in witnessing her pain, I saw through it the beauty of the Cross, and how close she must be to Jesus in those moments. The words of Psalm 22 come to mind:

"My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? All who see me mock me; they curl their lips and jeer; they shake their heads at me..."

 As Catholics, we often speak of uniting our suffering to Christ's suffering on the Cross, but even we sometimes forget the value and beauty of those times of suffering that we do not choose, but are inherently linked to Christ's suffering. The suffering of my grandmother is just one of those times. There is a beauty in it in that it may end up being the moment in her life in which she is most united to Christ.

And, what can one do in the presence of such suffering? I found that with my grandmother, the only thing I could do for her was to be present to her.

Because of the nature of her suffering, it is almost always useless to try to explain to her that she is not in Portugal, but in California, and that she is not abandoned, but among family who loves her. The difficulty is often compounded by the fact that she reverts to speaking almost exclusively Portuguese in such moments, and although I know some, it is only enough to understand about half of what she is saying. So, I sit with her. I hold her hand. I tell her that I love her, and won't leave her alone. Any other speaking between the two of us is minimal, and most of it is not understood by either of us anyway. But love is a universal language, and it is in those moments that I can speak to her through my love, expressed by my presence.

It is also in those moments that I feel the intense love of God stirring in my heart, and I realized that this is one of the fullest expressions of love - pure presence. I do not see it as wasting time, although by outward appearances I am simply sitting with her not "doing" anything. I am simply being present to her. Loving her. And I believe this is one of the truest forms of love, and one which we see in the life of Christ as well.


Those closest to Christ, who loved Him enough to stick by Him during His passion and death on the Cross could do nothing to relieve or ease His suffering - but they loved Him merely by their presence with Him at the foot of the Cross.

In those moments with my grandmother, I came to fully understand the meaning of contemplation, and of loving Christ in the Eucharist without any expectation of receiving anything from Him during my prayer. When we mature in our faith and spiritual life, we reach a point where the Lord asks this of us. Although we may often experience times of great grace and consolation in prayer, feeling the intense love and presence of God when we pray, and perhaps benefiting from any number of gifts He may be giving us as a fruit of our prayer, this is not the best way to love God. We are called to love God for Himself, not merely for His gifts. Similarly, we are called to love others for who they are, and not what we can get from them.

This is they key to loving - be present to those you love, and love them without expectation of gaining something in return. Similarly, in your prayer, seek to love God purely - be present to Him, seek Him, but don't give up because you don't "feel" like you are gaining anything by it. You are inevitably gaining something - you are growing in love.

"If I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing...Love is patient, love is kind...it does not seek its own interests...It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:2-8)