Should Christians mourn the wicked?

The opening number of the Wicked film adaptation declares that no one should mourn the wicked. But shouldn’t Christians mourn all death, even CEOs of death-dealing insurance companies?

From the start of Universal Pictures’ and John Chu’s film adaptation of the musical Wicked, the audience is faced with a somewhat uncomfortable claim: no one should mourn the wicked. Glinda the Good questions the song's thesis, wondering whether we are born wicked or wickedness is thrusted upon us. The subject of the opening number, the infamous Wicked Witch of the West, is deemed, as her title suggests, fundamentally wicked. So the musical adaptation itself challenges how we assign wickedness to people and essentially destine them to such a moniker.

The musical questions how we see the Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba. It turns out she was born green and assigned a wicked status. She experiences prejudice and hatred as a result, and things turn even more sideways when she challenges the power structures of Oz. She is announced to be the wicked witch, and the film ends with her embracing her label.

The film’s basic premise–no one is wicked at their core–is a laudable message, especially for Christians who believe that everyone deserves a second chance, a chance for repentance, and not to be labeled by their worst actions or the prejudices that society holds against them. We’re all complicated and contain multitudes. We are not one thing or another, even as we aspire toward righteousness.

But even if we aren’t born wicked, we can certainly choose to engage in actions that earn us such a title. It is not the core of who we are, but our actions have consequences, and we should face that reality. Death is not to be celebrated and we should mourn it in light of our Lord conquering death. While it is heartless to suggest that no one should mourn the wicked, the grief we can offer people is not endless.

So, I lament the death of Brian Thompson, the 50-year-old CEO of UnitedHealthcare. No matter what someone does in their life, being killed in cold blood ends the chance at repentance and reconciliation. An assassination is hardly a political victory, but the death and the reactions to it can inform us.

While we still are not sure what the motives of the killer were, we do know that he wrote “deny,” “delay,” and “depose” on the bullets he fired to kill Thompson. This fact at least suggests some discontent with the often brutal and compassionless health care system in the United States. The mocking reactions to Thompson’s death are brutal to see, but should help us understand that the lack of empathy toward his death is rooted in massive anger in the population at our healthcare system. What’s more, unlike many of our society’s ills, the expressions of frustration appear to be across the political spectrum.

On the same day as Thompson’s death, Anthem Blue Cross Shield, announced that it would be placing time limits on its coverage of anesthesia. A few days later, after sharp criticism from doctors, they reversed their decision. Hopeful anarchists might wish the threat of assassination spurred the change. It’s impossible to verify such a claim, but what we can do is note that violence is not a predictable or precise way to enact any sort of change. What the violence does show us in America’s anger with how their health is cared for.

Death is always to be mourned, even of the people we call wicked. Violence is not a suitable solution to express our discontent and it limits the possibility of individual reform, as well. But the message, perhaps not just from the killer, but from the reactions to Thompson’s death is simple: Americans are unhappy with the inadequate healthcare coverage of their insurance providers, and the state actors who have done little to change the status quo.

In addition to mourning Thompson’s death, we must also mourn the deaths caused by the denials and delays from insurance companies that also deal out death. We should mourn the state of our healthcare system and its victims. We should see the reactions to Thompson’s death not as a personal indictment of him–the vast majority of us didn’t even know who he was until he was killed–but rather as an indictment of our healthcare system and the officials in charge of it. Thompson’s death is worth lamenting, but that lamentation should be met with the lamentation of all victims of our healthcare system’s depressing outcomes.

Everyone’s death is worth mourning. Mourning death is one thing that holds our collective humanity together. But the brutal lack of empathy for Thompson should serve as a wake-up call that Americans are fed up and angry. In response, we should organize for mutual aid to support people who need health care, lobby for policy change, and politicians should exercise their political will to ensure everyone’s right to health care is fully realized.