“When the sharpest words wanna cut me down I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out I am brave, I am bruised I am who I'm meant to be, this is me” - The Greatest Showman
When I lived in Glasgow, I lived on a winding road that stretched between a posh area (Hyndland) and a not-as-posh area (Partick). Depending on who I was speaking to, I would describe where I lived differently. I liked having the flexibility to fit in with different people.
I think we all do it in lots of little ways. Our accent changes depending on who we’re speaking to. We volunteer information that we think will be received favourably. Because really, we’re all the same: we long to be thought well of by other people.
Taylor Swift, one of the most popular women in the world describes this feeling: ‘My entire moral code as a kid and now, is a need to be thought of as good…It was the complete and total belief system that I subscribed to.’
I wonder if it’s one of the things that unites us actually – that we all have an ache to be accepted. To be seen for who we really are, and accepted. And the flip side of acceptance: rejection – is probably one of the things we fear the most.
The Greatest Showman illustrates really well the various ways that we can feel rejected – the ways we can feel shame. Of course there are the stars of Bartnum’s circus show whose unusual looks or abnormalities mean that many people reject them. There’s the black trapeze artist, who isn’t accepted by racist white americans. Or there’s the best singer in Europe – Jenny Lind – who reveals that she feels like an imposter, despite having standing ovations every night, because of her background.
There’s the wealthy young man, who fears the rejection of his parents if he dates one of the ‘freaks’ from the show. And there’s the main character, Bartnum, our flawed hero, who ruins himself because he longs for acceptance from his well-to-do parents-in-law. I’m sure we can all identify with different aspects of these.
The film taps into our desire for acceptance, and our fear of rejection. I think we all carry around a little of that fear with us.
In the face of this fear, our culture’s response can be summed up by the film’s banger of an anthem – This is Me:
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out I am brave, I am bruised I am who I'm meant to be, this is me Look out 'cause here I come And I'm marching on to the beat I drum I'm not scared to be seen I make no apologies, this is me Another round of bullets hits my skin Well, fire away 'cause today, I won't let the shame sink in
I think this song says: accept yourself. Don’t care about what others’ think – just accept yourself. When people are saying to you – ‘I don’t accept you’, shout back louder ‘I accept myself.’ Honesty with yourself, acceptance of yourself, is the dominant narrative about acceptance in our culture.
But there are a few things that make me question whether or not this way of thinking about acceptance is working.
For a start, it doesn’t tell us how to get there. Do I just need to speak to myself very loudly, to drown out the other voices? What about the things that I’m ashamed of – not just what I think others are ashamed of… things I’ve done, said, that I know are shameful?
And amongst young people in today’s society, that message doesn’t seem to be working that well – Mental health problems and self-harm are on the rise among British teenagers.
But finally, I just don’t think it’s true to our experience of life. Because other people matter in my life. It’s not wrong to desire the care, and affection, and acceptance of other people. I’ve got two children – and I recognise my responsibility in helping them to know that I accept, love, and cherish them. I don’t expect that to solely be their responsibility.
Even the Greatest Showman isn’t consistent with the message ‘just accept yourself’. In a very moving section at the end of the film, one of the cast members says to the circus owner, Bartnum:
“You gave us a real family. And the circus - that was our home.”
Isn’t that what we all really long for? People who know me, and yet accept me. Who knows the things I’m rightly ashamed of, and who love me all the same. Someone who can deal with my shame.
That’s why our hearts sing at the love stories in the film – because you see something of that acceptance of one another.
Now, we won’t all live love stories like we see in the Greatest Showman. We won’t all find a family like that. But I wonder if the reason we find that so compelling is because ultimate reality is actually a love story. What if the universe really is a love story – the greatest love story ever told. That all other love stories – between the trapeze artist and the posh young man; between Bartnum and his wife; between the cast members as a family – were all just echoes of?
A story that we can all experience is the story of Jesus. Again and again in the accounts of Jesus’ life – the gospels – Jesus shocks the ‘in’ crowd of the time by drawing near to those who had been rejected. Take this example from Mark 2:15-17
In this account, Jesus doesn’t just acknowledge those considered outsiders, or outcasts, he gets as close as he can to them – has dinner with them. And it’s this act that the powerful people in the society – the Pharisees – are so horrified by.
Because the Pharisees thought that in order to be accepted by God – and by others – you had to perform certain rituals, do certain things. Touch some things, don’t touch other things. Pay money towards this thing, not to those things.
We live like that, don’t we – ‘If I can earn enough good points then maybe on balance I’ll do ok. I flew to Majorca, so I’m down some life points because of my carbon footprint, but I sponsored a koala, so I’m ok.’
Jesus operates in a different moral economy.
He embodies a kingdom that is topsy turvy – where those who feel shame are honoured. Are held up as people that Jesus came for. And Jesus was not just any man – the man claiming to be the Son of God, claiming to give the keys to unlock what real life is all about.
Those of us who know what we’ve done; are given a second chance. Are given a welcome home. It’s interesting how radically different Jesus’ answer is to the dominant answer given in our age. Where our society says, ‘Just accept yourself’, Jesus says ‘Your shame is real – but I will take it away.’
And how does he deal with our shame? He doesn’t sweep it under the carpet; or tell us how to earn enough ‘righteous’ points. Instead, in a cosmic act of universal significance, our shame is passed on to Jesus.
Just as Jesus says he has come for those who are ill – Jesus says that his death on the cross (the most shameful death anyone could die), is on our behalf, taking the weight of our shame, so that we can have his honour. You cannot look at the cross, and doubt God’s love for you, and acceptance of you.
It is an upside down, life-altering historical event, that changes everything.
Where do I go with my shame? Jesus.
How can I accept myself, with all of the things I’ve done? Jesus. Because he has dealt with my shame.
This is the love story to outshine all love stories; this is the acceptance our hearts are searching for.
