This week, I had the chance to see Wicked: For Good, where the final conclusion about which witch is really good and which one is really wicked is fleshed out. Well, sort of…No spoilers here. But I did discover some rather fascinating theological connections for our journey through Advent. Are you ready? Buckle up. I’m gonna bounce around a little.
In the Episcopal tradition, theology is often described as “faith seeking understanding.” It involves thoughtful reflection on the nature of God, the teachings of Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the ways in which God is present and active in the world and in our lives.[1]
Theology is about asking the good questions. For example, “Are people born wicked or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?” That is the question posed at the very beginning of the book, turned musical, turned blockbuster film. This is the kind of question Episcopalians love to discuss, but it barely begins to scratch the surface of all the theological pearls in Wicked.
But then it’s Advent, the beginning of a whole new church calendar year, a weird and wonderful season - a time to prepare for the Christ child, to stay alert for God to break in at any possible future moment, a time to consider the end of time. In Advent, we begin at the end, and we end at the beginning…[2]
This Advent, we start near the end of Matthew’s Gospel and move, in what might feel like a “clock tick” for some and an excruciatingly long time for others, to the birth of the baby Jesus. Wicked also begins at the end of the story and works its way back to the beginning, an effective literary device, similar to what will unfold for us as we journey from Advent One to Christmas. The ever-present clock motif in Wicked reminds us of the relentless tyranny of time. Our Advent wreath marks each of the four weeks with themes of hope, peace, joy, and love.
On this first Sunday of Advent, Matthew’s Jesus challenges us to step out of our obsession with time, out of our daily ruts and routines, into an alert, awakened state to ready ourselves for Emmanuel – God with us. The tricky part is we don’t know precisely when that will be. So, in Advent, we prepare, and we wait.
Elphaba, the green witch in Wicked, also waits. She waits for an audience with the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz, in hopes that he will agree to “degreenify” her. In the Hebrew Bible, two words were used for waiting. Yakhal, which means simply “to wait for,” is used in the story of Noah, who waited for the flood waters to recede. The other Hebrew word is Qavah, which refers to a sense of tension and hopeful expectation while waiting for something to happen.[3]
First-century Jewish Christians who had lost everything to Roman occupation were waiting for a return to normalcy. Jesus’ words offer hope for a more promising future. Timelines converge as Matthew’s Jesus speaks from Jerusalem during Holy Week. There is an urgency, as much for the disciples as for Matthew’s community around 90 CE, and likewise for us today, to stay awake and watchful for the coming of Christ.
Can you recall a time of waiting? Studies show that anxious anticipation can hijack our cognition, making time seem to move more slowly. Anxious anticipation can certainly hinder our ability to make wise decisions. Experts suggestmindfulness practices, time in nature, and the regular practice of stillness to mitigate the stressors of waiting. Easier said than done.
In our Gospel reading, the theological drama intensifies. “One will be taken and the other left behind.” Is it better to be taken or left? I’m not sure. What do you think? Matthew’s community surely had some thoughts during their long years of exile.
While first-century Christians awaited the imminent return of Jesus, he did not return as they had imagined he soon would. Still today, we sing, O Come, O Come Emmanuel…Lo he Comes with Clouds Descending, Soon and Very Soon…
But when? As Matthew tells us, only our God of all time and all eternity knows. And so, as people of faith, we are left to wait for God with hopeful anticipation. But how do we muster hope when days are darkest?
In her keynote at our diocesan conference this past weekend, the Very Rev. Winnie Varghese spoke to us about developing a broader theological imagination. The new 12th Dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City challenged us to consider new ways of thinking about our theologies of mercy and justice. She also suggested seeing our most pressing issues through different eyes – the eyes of the immigrant, the stranger, the marginalized, those from other cultures and faith traditions, and those with no faith tradition at all.
Wicked director Jon Chu shared his ten-year journey of developing the two Wicked films. Shooting the two films concurrently required seeing the big picture, the entire arc of the story. In scripture, for better or for worse, for good and for wicked, humanity’s triumphs and struggles are all there. When we see the big picture, it can be easier to hold space for others, easier to forgive, and to question systems that threaten human dignity. It can be easier to imagine God’s love meeting us exactly where we are.
Over the course of our long marriage, my husband has learned to wait patiently for me to get ready. I appreciate this. He knows me, and he knows it doesn’t go well when we rush the process.
That’s how I imagine God to be. God knows us and patiently waits for us. In an increasingly divided and secular world, a more imaginative theological vision of a loving God waiting for us to be ready is both hopeful and provocative.
Don’t let the sentimental melody fool you; the lyrics in Wicked’s final number, For Good are also strikingly provocative:
“Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood
Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea
or a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood…
God is creative and is always looking for new ways to break into our everyday lives.
What if this Advent we welcome the disruption? What if we let it wake us up?
Our Episcopal theology, with its emphasis on scripture, tradition, and reason, is a faith that seeks wisdom. Deeply grounded in the Anglican liturgical tradition, we are open, aware, and even critical of the shifting culture and its impact on our discipleship. One reason I love the Episcopal church is our capacity to take on different shapes within our unique context, without compromising our values or vocation.[4]
Advent calls us into nothing less than mystical union, at the very intersection of time and eternity, where we can be and see the Christ light shining out in the world.[5] If we are awake, Advent, this yearly opportunity to check our theology, can change us for the better. If we’re really ready, it could even change us for good. Amen.
Spiritual Practice: Take a 10-minute silent walk outdoors this week. Where do you sense God’s presence in the unfamiliar or quiet places? Or try candle gazing!
No Extra Charge: Here’s Wicked, the book, author Jeffrey Maquire talking about Wicked: For Good.
[1] Ellen K. Wondra, Introduction to Theology Third Edition (La Vergne: Church Publishing Incorporated, 2002), 1.
[2] Laurence Hull Stookey, Calendar: Christ’s Time for the Church (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996), 121.
[3] “Advent Season: What Is It, and How Is It Celebrated?” accessed November 29, 2025, https://bibleproject.com/guides/advent/.
[4] Ralph McMichael, Vocation of Anglican Theology: Sources and Essays (London: Hymns Ancient & Modern Ltd, 2014), 291.
[5] Stookey, 17.
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