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Defying the Shadow: Finding Grace in the Dark

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Sermon given at First Church Phoenix UCC on 2/2/2025. YouTube video below.


Today, I invite you to journey with me to the land of Oz—not the cheerful land of munchkins and yellow brick roads that many of us grew up with, but a more complicated, nuanced Oz, as seen through the musical Wicked and its recent movie adaptation. Through this story, we’ll explore a powerful concept: the human shadow—the parts of ourselves we reject, hide, or deny—and what it means to embrace them in the light of God’s grace.





The Shifting Sands of Good and Evil

How many of you have seen the movie or the musical? Well if you haven’t, I’ll catch you up real quick! Wicked serves as a prequel to The Wizard of Oz, offering a fresh perspective on the iconic characters and events from the original story of Dorothy and Toto. While The Wizard of Oz presents a clear-cut tale of good versus evil, Wicked complicates this binary by exploring the backstory of Elphaba, the so-called Wicked Witch of the West, and Glinda, the Good Witch. It flips the narrative, asking the audience to reconsider what makes someone “good” or “wicked” and illustrates how much of that is determined by perspective and normativity. It reminds us these labels are often far too simplistic to capture the messy reality of the human experience.


Wicked starts where the Wizard of Oz ended: with a celebration. The citizens of Oz are overjoyed: “The Wicked Witch of the West is dead! The enemy of all of us here in Oz is dead!” We immediately know who the villain is—or so we think. Elphaba, the green-skinned witch, is the villain, and her death is cause for rejoicing.


 But then, just as she is about to fly away, a child asks Glinda, the "Good Witch," a question that changes everything: “Is it true you were her friend?” This question causes Glinda to pause and reflect and invites us to reconsider the story we think we know. Was Elphaba—this so-called Wicked Witch—truly wicked? Or was she misunderstood, rejected, and hurt?


This question points to the heart of our message today. How often do we label parts of ourselves as “wicked” or bad without really understanding them? How often do we judge others based on surface appearances or societal labels?  And what is the cost of doing that?  The truth is that life is much messier than simple categories like good and wicked. We are all a complex tapestry of light and shadow, strength and weakness, virtue and vice.


Understanding the Shadow

Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung explains this messy inner complexity using the term “The Shadow” —the parts of ourselves we suppress or deny. These can include negative traits like anger, fear, or selfishness, but the shadow isn’t always "bad." It also holds buried gifts—creativity, ambition, courage—that we’ve hidden away. But why would we do that?

 

Because as children, we absorbed messages about what personality traits were acceptable to express in order to receive the love and belonging we needed. If we perceived that anger was unacceptable in our evironment, we learned to suppress it—even if it can be a useful response to things like abuse or injustice. If passion was discouraged, we buried it deep within our shadow self, abandoning all the capabilities and gifts that come along with it. Religion and culture further shape this process, reinforcing which aspects of ourselves we’re allowed to embrace—and which we must hide.


Imagine a child who is naturally sensitive and expressive, easily moved to tears when watching a sad movie or quick to share their emotions. If they have a parent who was taught that vulnerability is weakness, that parent might respond with impatience, saying things like, “Stop crying. Toughen up. The world isn’t kind to people who are too emotional.”

 

Over time, the child learns that expressing emotion leads to disapproval. They begin suppressing their sensitivity, stuffing it into their shadow to maintain their parent's acceptance. As an adult, they may struggle to express their feelings, feel disconnected from their emotions, or even dismiss the emotions of others—repeating the very pattern they inherited. The path of spiritual growth for such a person is to reclaim their vulnerability and sensitivity as the strength it has the potential to be. And that can be hard work after a lifetime of conditioning to the contrary.

 

Think of it like a bag into which we discard all the qualities we perceive to not contribute to our safety and acceptance. Once thrown safely over our shoulder and out of sight, we try to ignore it, pretending it doesn’t exist. But in doing so, we unknowingly cut ourselves off from the power, wisdom, and wholeness that some of those very traits could offer.


But the traits we stuff away in our shadow bag don’t just disappear because we ignore them.  They influence our thoughts, behaviors, and relationships in hidden ways. Think about this: Have you ever been overly irritated by someone, only to realize later that what bothers you about them is something you struggle with yourself? This is often portrayed as “When you point a finger at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at you.” That’s the shadow at work. It can be a VERY uncomfortable moment of recognition when we see a reflection of ourselves in someone else, a part of ourselves we’d rather not confront.


At its worst, when ignored and denied, the shadow can take control, driving us to act in ways that betray our values and even violate the laws of society. One of the most striking examples is found in the Catholic priesthood, where vows of chastity force the repression of sexuality. When such a fundamental aspect of human nature is exiled to the shadow, it can resurface in distorted and destructive ways, sometimes leading to gross violations of trust and abuse. This has been an epidemic in the priesthood, and as long as the church continues to force sexuality into the shadow, the abuse is likely to continue. Jung calls this the demonization of the unintegrated shadow.

 

Another striking example of what happens when the human shadow remains unintegrated is Donald Trump. Likely shaped by an upbringing that framed vulnerability as weakness, he may have suppressed traits like compassion, kindness, empathy, and mercy into his shadow. As a result, when he encounters these traits in others, they trigger an unconscious rejection—leading him to attack those who display them, as if to distance himself from what he cannot acknowledge within himself.

 

Left unexamined, the shadow can make us dangerously unbalanced. Because it holds repressed aspects of ourselves—some of which contrast with our conscious identity—ignoring it can lead to extremes that are both unhealthy and destructive. However, by confronting our own shadow, we cultivate self-awareness and balance, preventing us from veering too far in any one direction.

 

While many of us enjoy psychoanalyzing the current president, the problem extends beyond his personal shadow. Some commentators, such as Patsy Fergusson, argue that he embodies America’s collective shadow—manifesting traits like greed, racism, and bigotry that society often refuses to acknowledge. His administration’s resistance to DEI initiatives reflects a broader cultural impulse to deny the deeper forces of America’s shadow, particularly its unresolved history of racism, sexism, and economic exploitation.

 

Jung taught that when societies fail to reckon with their past, they empower leaders who embody what they seek to repress. In this sense, Trump’s rise to power is not an anomaly but a reflection of unexamined forces within our national psyche—forces that will persist unless we collectively engage in the difficult work of self-examination. The question remains: Will we take on the task of integrating this collective shadow, or will we continue to let it shape our future in unconscious and destructive ways?

 

Paul & The Shadow

Now let’s turn to our scripture for today. If you want to learn about what this phenomenon looks like in the Bible, then the apostle Paul is the WWF champion of shadow wrestling. Many of Paul’s letters reveal an ongoing internal conflict between his human nature and his desire to live in alignment with God’s will. In Romans 7, Paul openly admits, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do.” This raw confession demonstrates his awareness of the parts of himself he struggles to control—because they have been relegated to his shadow.

Paul’s transparency about his inner battles makes him a valuable source of insight for us because he neither denies his weaknesses nor allows them to define him. Instead, he embraces God’s grace as the key to navigating the tension between his shadow and his calling. His honesty and reliance on divine strength offer a relatable and hopeful framework for understanding and integrating the shadow in our own lives. He reminds us that we must engage in a lifelong process of self-discovery and growth with God’s help.


And here’s the good news: Psalm 139 reminds us that God already knows us and sees us fully—both our light and our shadow—and loves us just the same. “If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to You.” This is a powerful affirmation of God's unconditional love. We don't have to hide any part of ourselves from God. In fact, it's in bringing our shadows into the light of God's love that we can begin to heal and grow.


Elphaba and the Power of Authenticity

Now that we’ve laid a foundation, let’s travel back down the yellow brick road and pick up the story again in Oz. Elphaba, the green-skinned protagonist of Wicked, is a living symbol of the shadow. She is the result of her Mother’s extra-marital affair and is born with green skin, so from the moment she’s born, she’s rejected. Her father sees her for the first time and shouts: “Get it out of here!” She grows up believing she’s a burden, the cause of her family’s problems and her sister’s handicap. She internalizes the message that she is fundamentally flawed, that her very existence is a mistake. Her self-worth goes flying into her shadow.


Elphaba longs to be accepted, placing all her hope in the Wizard: “What a pair we’ll be, the Wizard and I.” She believes that if she can win his approval, her life will change. But when she meets him, she discovers the truth: the Wizard is a fraud, a man with no real power. He tells her: “The best way to bring folks together is to give them a real good enemy.” Sound familiar in 2025? And 1933? The Wizard represents the world’s tendency to scapegoat—to project our fears and insecurities onto others instead of facing them ourselves. It's often easier to demonize someone else than to confront the darkness within our own shadow.


Elphaba refuses to play along with the wizard’s demands to support his oppression and subjugation of the animals of Oz, who are intelligent, articulate and were respected in society for all of recorded history. She won’t help silence the animals or use her magic for harm. She is committed to justice. For this, she’s vilified. Her green skin becomes a symbol of “wickedness,” a convenient label for a society that fears what it doesn’t understand. She becomes a target for all the anxieties and prejudices of the people of Oz. They project their shadows onto her.


But Elphaba’s story doesn’t end there. In her defining moment, when she embraces her passion for justice and reclaims her full power: she sings “Defying Gravity.” She declares:

“Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.”


She stops hiding. She embraces her shadow—her power, her difference—and it transforms her. Her shadow, once a source of shame, becomes her strength. She discovers the power of authenticity, the courage to be true to herself, even when the world tells her she's wrong.


We could do an in-depth analysis of Glinda’s shadow as well, but I’d like you all to be home in time for lunch. So the important thing to talk about here is the key role she plays in Elphaba’s story.


In the dance scene, she defies her friends and stands beside Elphaba, saying: “No one should be scorned or told to keep quiet” and embraces the unique dance that Elphaba is doing. It's a small act of rebellion against oppressive normativity, but it marks a turning point in Glinda's journey and Elphaba’s as well.


This is the turning point where Elphaba feels seen for the first time and it helps her to start to love and embrace herself. Tears fill her eyes as the two women embrace, and the crowd joins in. It’s a moment of redemption, a glimpse of what happens when we step beyond judgment and into compassion. And compassion is a necessary tool to be able to be able to even become aware of our own shadow material, and even more necessary as we try to develop a relationship with it and integrate it into our own lives. Kindness and unconditional love and God’s grace help us begin the work of reintegrating our shadows.


Shadow Work

So how do we do this? The process of integrating the shadow, often called “shadow work,” is not easy. It’s like cleaning out that attic – it can be messy and uncomfortable, but it’s also incredibly liberating. It’s about bringing those hidden parts into the light of God’s grace, acknowledging them, accepting them, and understanding their influence on our lives.


Here are a few steps to start embracing the shadow:

  1. Pay Attention to Your Triggers: When someone irritates you, ask, "What is this revealing about me?"

  2. Be Honest with Yourself: Admit your flaws and insecurities. God already knows them, so there’s no use hiding. So explore how your shadow traits could become your strengths.

  3. Seek God’s Guidance: Through prayer or journaling, invite God into the parts of your life you’d rather avoid.


This is not about "fixing" yourself. It’s about developing a relationship with the discarded parts of yourself and becoming whole, as God intended for us to be.


Groundhog Day

And this brings us to a rather ironic observation suggested to me by Doug. Today is Groundhog Day. Punxsutawney Phil emerged from his burrow this morning, and what did he see? His shadow! And what did he do when he saw his shadow? He beat a hasty retreat back into the safety of his burrow! How often do we do the same thing? We glimpse a part of our shadow self and immediately retreat to the safety of our comfort zone. We bury it deeper, hoping it will just disappear.


But the truth is, spring – both literally and metaphorically – doesn't come from hiding from the shadow. It comes from acknowledging it, understanding it, and integrating it into the fullness of who we are. It comes from allowing God’s grace to illuminate even the darkest corners of our hearts. It’s about recognizing, as Elphaba eventually does, that our perceived flaws can actually be sources of strength, resilience, and authenticity. Her “wickedness,” her otherness, becomes the fuel for her fierce sense of justice.


So, as we celebrate Groundhog Day, let’s consider a different approach. Instead of retreating from our shadows, let’s invite them into the light. What part of your shadow is God nudging you to explore today? What truth about yourself are you ready to confront? Because when we stop running from our shadows, we, too, can defy gravity. We can embrace the wholeness God intends for us, and the spring of new growth can begin in our lives. We can finally say, with Elphaba, "Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game."


Whether individually or collectively as a family, a church or a nation, Psalm 139 invites us to step into the light and do shadow work. “Search me, O God, and know my heart.” God doesn’t ask us to deny our shadows but to bring them into the light of grace, where they can be healed and transformed, and used for our own good and for the good of all God’s creation.


Amen.



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