This article contains spoilers for Wicked.
When I saw Wicked, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Elphaba and the prophets in the Bible.
Prophets, by nature of their calling, are not well-liked. They must tell a community or nation what they’re doing wrong. In biblical times, modern times, and Ozian times, people don’t like to be told that they need to change their ways. So when Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is called to disrupt the oppression that many have become complacent with, she is rejected for it.
Elphaba was born of mysterious circumstances. The first part of her life is quietly spent in the company of her nanny, Dulcibear. Her ascent to prophetic status begins early. Likewise, biblical prophets “are completely uncredentialed and without pedigree, so they just rise up in the landscape,” biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann said in an interview with Krista Tippett.
Throughout her childhood, it’s clear that Elphaba stands out and possesses unique abilities. Similarly, the prophet Samuel had a momentous calling on his life since childhood. He was called to be a prophet when he was just 11 or 12. We learn in 1 Samuel 3:1 that “visions were not widespread.” Samuel grew up in unique circumstances, living at the tabernacle and away from his family, under the guidance of Eli.
Years later, when Elphaba arrives at Shiz University, her magical abilities and green skin capture attention, making her an outlier. She has the ability to recognize others who are marginalized — human and non-human alike. In The Prophetic Imagination Brueggemann explains, “The cross is the assurance that effective prophetic criticism is done not by an outsider but always by one who must embrace the grief, enter into the death, and know the pain of the criticized one.”
And Elphaba has known pain. Her father resents her, and her sister Nessarose is embarrassed that they attend the same university. She’s looked upon as a fearsome spectacle by her classmates. In fact, they sing about it: “She’s a terror, she’s a tartar / We don’t mean to show a bias.” Eventually her classmates warm up to her, and suddenly she’s whisked into a new direction.
During a history class at Shiz, we learn that the Ozians faced a drought, which is blamed on the animal population. They become the scapegoats. The animals mysteriously lose their ability to speak and begin to disappear. Elphaba immediately notices their mistreatment. But when she urges her classmates to speak out against the oppression, they falter. “Animals should be seen and not heard,” someone writes on a chalkboard in class.
Elphaba receives an invitation to visit the Emerald City, where she learns that the campaign against the animals has been committed at the hands of the Wizard of Oz himself. The two engage in a showdown of sorts. Here, we find the most poignant moment of the film.
Elphaba confronts the Wizard of Oz and proclaims that she will dismantle the oppression that he inflicts upon the animals. Madame Morrible, headmistress at Shiz, calls Elphaba a wicked witch, warning the Ozians that she is a troublemaker. “The best way to bring people together is to give them a good enemy,” the Wizard says.
When the Wizard of Oz sends his people to capture her, Elphaba boldly responds, “It’s the Wizard who should be afraid of me.”
Here we find similarities between Elphaba and the prophet Elijah.
The Lord calls Elijah to visit and confront King Ahab. When the pair meet up on Mount Carmel, Elijah calls on Ahab to bring hundreds of false prophets to stand against Elijah. Elijah asks Ahab to prove his idol Baal is real by summoning him to set fire to an altar.
Ahab’s false prophets call on Baal for hours with no results; they have no true power. In verse 27 Elijah gets cheeky: “At noon Elijah began to taunt them. ‘Shout louder!’ he said. ‘Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened.’”
Ultimately, the efforts of Ahab’s prophets turn up fruitless:
Then it’s Elijah’s turn. With the power Elijah wields as God’s messenger, even the rocks around his water-logged altar light up in flames.
Similarly, Elphaba realizes that while the Wizard's power is all smoke and mirrors, she has the true gift. “This is why you need all of this. Spells and cages. You have no real power,” Elphaba says. Elphaba, on the other hand, can speak powerful spells and change realities. Both Elijah and Elphaba are empowered by their strong conviction of what is right and just, even when it ostracizes them.
In The Prophetic Imagination Brueggemann writes, “It is the vocation of the prophet to keep alive the ministry of imagination, to keep on conjuring and proposing futures alternative to the single one the king wants to urge as the only thinkable one.” In a moment where Elphaba could ask to remove the parts of herself that make her an outlier, she instead chooses to petition for those on the margins. Keeping her sense of self will be imperative for the long journey ahead.
In the forthcoming sequel to Wicked (Wicked: For Good), Elphaba and Elijah’s paths diverge. But as their stories stand, both prophets defy norms, and, erm, gravity — be it by chariot of fire or broomstick.
Olivia Bardo is a writer, artist, and baker from northern New Jersey and is a former editorial assistant for sojo.net.
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