Rewrite the Stars

One of the motifs that runs through The Greatest Showman is social status, and a caste-like system that seemed to hold sway.  People are born into a certain position, and that’s pretty much where they stay.  And different groups within this system don’t mix.  Whether the division and positioning is gender-based, wealth- or class-based, ability-based or race-based, people were put in their place and expected to stay put.

  We’ve seen a bit of that in ‘This is me’.  The track ‘Rewrite the Stars’ is a variation on the theme.  This is a duet by Philip Carlyle (Zac Efron) and Anne Wheeler (Zendaya).  These “star-cross’d lovers” come from quite different social locations, from contrasting worlds.  Carlyle is from an upper-crust, wealthy family, an actor in serious productions (at least, he had been).  Wheeler was one half of an acrobatic act with her brother, a star turn in P T Barnum’s show – an oddity, because she was black.  Her place was fixed – no matter how talented or clever or anything else – society had assigned her a lowly place, as though it was written in the stars.  Carlyle had much to lose in doing so, but he at least could choose to cross the many social boundaries between them.

  The song ‘Rewrite the Stars’ comes from a desire to smash the social structures, to break the barriers to belonging, envisaging an environment that can include everyone equally.

  Bafflingly (to me anyway) this was absolutely scandalous at that time (and this time?).  And yet, I think Jesus courted such controversy with a central value in his presentation of the kingdom of heaven – God’s will, on earth as is it in heaven.  If we read the New Testament treatment of Jesus’ life in the Gospels, we find someone who consistently crossed cultural and ‘class’ chasms as though they weren’t there – perhaps because, where he came from, they weren’t…

  I’m only going to pick out a few examples here, as virtually every page of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John shows Jesus in this mood and mode.  We’ve already looked at some of his attitudes and behaviours with women – including foreign women, who ‘counted double’ in that culture.  Another serious taboo was leprosy.  ‘Lepers’ were fairly common in Jesus’ day, it seems, although ‘leprosy’ was something of a catch-all term for a variety of skin conditions.  In the old Levitical law, provision was made for the management of outbreaks.  In confirmed cases, the priest could send the leper outside of ‘the camp’ (into isolation) for a set time, to be reviewed and eventually re-integrated into society, ideally.  However, by the first century, it seems that a lot of lepers were sent away and left there.  For example, in Luke 17, on his way into a village, Jesus meets ten lepers at once.  This sounds like a ‘leper colony’ – similar to what we see in the film Ben Hur, set in the same time period.  The incident I want to look at here, though, is perhaps the most striking and controversial encounter between Jesus and a leper because it’s the first one.

  Jesus is ‘on tour’, doing his stuff, healing and teaching, when a leper comes and kneels in front of him, begging, “Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean” (Matthew 8:2; Luke 5:12).  Jesus reaches out to the man, touches him, and says, “I do choose.  Be made clean.”  And immediately the leprosy is gone (Matthew 8:3; Luke 5:13).  So the man could be re-integrated into his community; perhaps get some work; worship and learn at the synagogue; enjoy family life.  But what I love about this story is that Jesus touched him.  I get the sense that Jesus didn’t need to touch the leper to heal him, as we can see in other healings that he only needs to say the word.  But he breaks a barrier by touching the man.  He includes him as a human being, while most people had excluded him.  Jesus rewrote the stars.

  In Matthew’s gospel, the very next thing we read about is a Roman centurion coming to Jesus to appeal for the healing of his young servant, lying at home paralysed.  Apparently without a moment’s hesitation, Jesus says, “I will come and cure him” (Matthew 8:7).  But the centurion stops him, saying, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof…” Why would a Roman centurion say this to a Jewish man – whose land mighty Rome occupies?  Perhaps firstly because the centurion is a Gentile (non-Jew), and Jesus the Jew was ‘not allowed’ to enter such a person’s house.  That’s probably the real reason.  Another potentially controversial characteristic here may be that this centurion might have been gay.  The Greek word used for “servant” in this story is “pais”.  This word can mean servant, although as a slave, he might have been more correctly termed ‘doulos’.  A ‘pais’ can also mean a young boy, and sometimes described a young male lover.  I suspect Jesus would have been aware of all this about the centurion.

  The centurion explains his compromise, that Jesus need “only speak the word” and the servant will be healed, because as a centurion (a commander of a hundred soldiers), he knows about authority, and about his words making things happen.

  Jesus is so impressed by this man’s grasp of God’s kingdom – that it’s a reality where what God (Jesus, in this case) says, happens (on earth as it is in heaven) – that he publicly commends his faith, telling his followers:

 

“Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.  I tell you, many will come from east and west and will eat with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth…” (Matthew 8:10-12)

 

That sounds like a rewriting of stars to me.  The “heirs” lose their inheritance because they fail to ‘grasp’ it, when others do.  So those who ‘don’t fit’, who don’t belong, get it, while those ‘born into it’ are cast out.

  Jesus made a very similar point in an exchange with chief priests and elders at the temple, saying:

 

“Truly I tell you, the tax-collectors and sinners are going into the kingdom of heaven ahead of you…” (Matthew 21:31)

 

  He had pretty much enacted this fairly early in his ministry, when he called a tax-collector named Matthew to follow him.  Matthew did, straight away.  It seems that Matthew may have invited Jesus, along with some of his (now ex-) colleagues, to dinner because after that, Jesus and his disciples are at a dinner where a number of tax-collectors and “sinners” attend.  The Pharisees “saw this” and said to the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners” (Matthew 9:11).  Jesus answered for himself: “Those are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick…”

  The Pharisees couldn’t understand why Jesus would hang out with those sorts of people.  Tax-collectors were known cheats, extorting people out of more than they owed in tax, as well as being collaborators with the occupying force (Pharisees had a nationalist streak, among everything else).  And sinners – these people, the Pharisees thought, were preventing God’s kingdom from materialising, because they just wouldn’t fall into line with the(ir) rules (that’s what they thought “Thy will be done, thy kingdom come” was about).  But Jesus rewrote the rules.  And rewrote the stars.  These people got Jesus and what he was about.  These were his people.

  The final example I want to mention came from a discussion among Jesus’ disciples as to who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  In answer to their question, Jesus “called a child, whom he put among them, and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven…’” (Matthew 18:2-4).

  The visuals of this scene are helpful.  Imagine the normal set-up of disciples with their teacher.  They’re probably sitting or kneeling on the ground, at Jesus’ feet – who might also be seated.  Then comes the child, who seems to be standing, and as such is towering over them all.  Who is greatest in this picture?  The child, head and shoulders above the rest.

  Contrast this with the normal perception of such a child in that world – a “little child” (the Greek word is a diminutive form, suggesting possibly under seven years old).  At this age, they were not contributing to society, and there was every chance they might not live to adulthood.  They were almost seen as expendable, and probably not as a full person in their own right.  But here, Jesus turns all that on its head.  He rewrites the stars.

  While these examples may have been plucked out, they are not isolated incidents.  On the contrary, they are consistent with the general tenor of the Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – and Luke’s follow-up volume, Acts.  And the main contributor to the New Testament, Paul, agrees with much of the sentiment.  He was wildly inclusive, particularly of Gentiles/foreigners.  He also – controversially – addressed children in his letters, before addressing their parents (Ephesians 6:1-4; Colossians 3:20-21).  He addressed wives before their husbands (Ephesians 5:22ff; Colossians 3:18-19).  He addressed slaves before their masters (Ephesians 6:5-9; Colossians 3:22-4:1).  In even addressing these groups, Paul was being revolutionary – he was dignifying them with choice and agency, to behave in the way he suggests.  But by speaking to them first, before their supposed superiors, he was challenging the structures.  He was, in a sense, rewriting the stars.

  That is a central pillar of the Gospel.  It is good news because it releases people from the structures that hold us – slaves and masters, women and men, children and parents, those like us and those not.  The good news is: Jesus rewrites the stars.