Heaven's Light: The Supernatural in Disney's Tangled, The End

Tangled ends with the unlikely hero Flynn dying on the floor, stabbed by the evil, sorceress step-mother in order that she may keep Rapunzel's regenerative powers from doing any one any good but herself. Rapunzel cuts a deal with her step-mother: she will submit to slavery if only she is allowed to heal her knight-in-shining-armor, which she proceeds to do despite Flynn's protest. In the end, Flynn sacrifices himself on behalf of Rapunzel's freedom, cutting all her hair short and robbing it of its healing magic. Rapunzel cradles her dead Beloved in her arms and sheds a tear:

Flynn knew that in order for his beloved to "have life, and have it abundantly" (Jn 10:10), he needed to give up his own. Yet, surprisingly, after he does so, at that moment when it seems all hope is lost, Rapunzel's tear falls on his cheek. Turns out they too carry the "light of the Sun" and Flynn is healed.

September 14th is the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. This is followed immediately by September 15th's feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. When the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph went to the Temple, as was the custom, to present the child Jesus to Simeon the High Priest, he prophesied Jesus' death on the Cross. In the same breath he said to Mary, "A sword will pierce through your own soul also," (Lk 2:35).

There is a parallel being drawn here between Christ's sufferings on the Cross and Mary's at his feet. As Christ's "soul" was pierced by Longinus' spear, so his Mother's soul would be pierced in sorrow as she stood at her dying son's feet. Of course a mother would grieve for her son dying in horrible pain, but does this passage point to something else as well?

Recently we took a look at rood screens and their place in traditional ecclesial architecture. What we didn't talk about is why they're called rood screens. Atop a great many of these screens or beams stands the Rood, Old English for cross. Inevitably, under the cross on either side stand Our Lady and John, the Beloved Disciple:

It is significant that it is John specifically, continually referred to as "the disciple whom Jesus loves" that stands at the foot of the Cross with Our Lady and his Mother. Of course, God loves all his children, but, as Jesus himself said, "Not every one who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of Heaven, but he who does the will of my Father," (Mt. 7:21). But what is the will of the Father? St. Paul tells us that "we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him," (Rom. 8:16-17).

In other words, our salvation is dependent on our suffering like Christ: humbly, lovingly, and on behalf of others. St. Peter tells us that "one is approved if, mindful of God, he endures pain while suffering unjustly," (1 Pet. 2:19). Like John, if we are to be faithful and "beloved" servants of Christ, we must stand with him in his agony. We must live a life of humility and suffering as he did.

Amazingly, though, according to Paul, our suffering can do even more good than just getting ourselves into heaven: "I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, the church," (Col. 1:24).

Wait a second. Did he just say what I think he said? How can it be that "Christ's afflictions" on our behalf "lack" anything? Of course, strictly speaking, they don't. Christ's sacrifice was all-sufficient. What, then, could St. Paul mean?

What is lacking in Christ's afflictions is the application of his grace to the individual. Christ's death on the Cross redeemed the world, it didn't save it. In other words, Christ did everything necessary for it to be possible for us to be reunited with God, but it is up to us whether we will take advantage of the redemption he offers or not. St. Paul is telling us how to do that: be like Christ, humbly submit ourselves to the pain the world has to dole out, unite our sufferings to his, and so become true Christians, or "little Christs."

In this way, we participate in Christ's redemption of the world. Not adding anything, for one cannot add to something infinite. One can, however, cooperate with it. The love and suffering of the Church makes Christ's sacrifice effective in the world, just as Rapunzel's sadness brought about the happiness Flynn's sacrifice had made possible.

If, by our suffering, we can cooperate with Christ in the salvation of the world, surely the Blessed Mother, forced to witness the brutal death of her sinless, divine Son, should be the preeminent cooperator. This is what Simeon prophesied, and why Catholics name her Coredemptrix.

Why should Rapunzel's tears make her Beloved well again? Why should suffering heal? How is it that our suffering and, primarily, that of our Blessed Mother can work good in the world? Because it makes us like Christ. When we suffer willingly and in a good spirit, not seeking it out, but accepting it when it comes (and it will come), we hang ourselves on the Cross with Christ, which is exactly what he told us to do: "Take up your Cross and follow me," (Mk. 8:34). Thanks be to God, "as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too," (2 Cor. 1:5).

Heaven's Light: The Supernatural In Disney's Tangled - The Beginning

So, turns out the Disney Film Rankings need to be updated a bit. Tangled is definitely Top 10. I'm gonna go ahead and put it in between Peter Pan and 101 Dalmatians. Yeah, #5. It's that good.

The first thing I have to say is "Wow!" It's kitschy, I know, but really. I'm not the first person to talk about Disney Magic, but it really is apt here, seeing as Tangled is the first Disney film since The Lion King to have it. Hunchback, Mulan, and Tarzan come close, but they don't quite get there. Mulan and Tarzan try and fail by being derivative, and Hunchback, while suffering from some of the same issues, fails in the end by being quite unlike any other Disney film.

So far, most of the features which have had that magical quality have done so on account of their romance, by which I mean to refer to the genre of Medieval, Renaissance (and, later, Romantic) literature and NOT contemporary "romance" novels. The classic fairy tales on which many of the great Disney films are based can themselves be considered more or less great romances: Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, and, finally, Rapunzel.

Though the specific works from which Disney draws its material are individually more or less directly connected to these Medieval and Renaissance tales, all of them can trace their lineage, at least stylistically, to these works. It is the Medieval romances which are responsible for our (rapidly disappearing) cultural association of the Middle Ages with daring knights, evil witches, and damsels in distress; or, to quote Belle, "far off places, daring sword fights, a prince in disguise!" Through revivals in the Renaissance and the Romantic Age the specific form of the romance shifted quite drastically, several important elements remained the same.

The most important of these is a preoccupation with the supernatural and fantastical. The Middle Ages lived in a world alive with divine and demonic power, in a world where otherworldly forces intervened regularly, pulling Mankind back and forth between Heaven and Hell. What we consider "fantastical" was not at all so for them. It was simply life. There is something to be learned from this perspective.

Tangled begins when a drop of sunlight falls from the sky and enchants a flower with endless healing powers. This flower is later used to heal Rapunzel's mother in order that she may successfully deliver Rapunzel, who then inherits the flower's abilities. Whenever a special song is sung, Rapunzel's hair begins to glow with sunlight and heals anything it touches.

There was once another Woman who received a drop of Son-light (sorry) and was henceforth granted the ability to heal all she touches: "And a great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. ...She brought forth a male child, one who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron." (Rev. 12:1,5). This "woman" may be interpreted as the nation of Israel, from whom Christ the Physician issued:

"Surely he has born our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with he stripes we are healed," (Isa. 53:4-5).

The Incarnation is the single greatest event in history. God, perfect Love and Being itself, descended from Heaven like a drop of light, and became Man, taking a body like ours. This body was that of an Israelite, fulfilling the Old Testament prophecy that Israel would become "blessed above all peoples," (Deut. 7:14).

But, the redemption Christ brought is not just one of ideas and abstract principles, it must be a bodily one as well, for we are persons composed of body and soul. As such, Christ took a body, and by it, he heals our bodies, along with our souls, if only at the end of time when all shall be brought to glory as his body was at Easter.

The Woman can also be the Virgin Mother, whose God-given virtue allowed her to become the very vessel of redemption and grace:

"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generation will call me lessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name," (Lk. 1:46-49).

It is through the Blessed Virgin that Christ's spiritual and bodily health was made able to come to us. As Catholics, we believe our Blessed Mother sits at the right hand of her Divine son in Heaven, interceding to him on our behalf, raining showers of love and grace down on us all the time. It was us to whom Christ was speaking when he uttered these last words upon the Cross, "Behold, your mother!" (Jn. 19:27).

She may also be the Bride of Christ, the Church, within whom Christ resides, and thereby grants the ability to transmit his healing grace to the world:

"Jesus said to [the disciples], 'Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.' And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained,'" (Jn. 20:21-23).