Going to church would be much easier without all the people getting in the way, right? Goodness, life would be much easier if we never had to interact with anyone who challenged us.
I’m reminded of a film that knows exactly how aggravating it can be to be saddled with someone who just grinds your gears. But the film also recognizes how much two imperfect souls need each other. My favorite anime film, Mamoru Hosada’s The Boy and the Beast, paints a picture where love turns an infantilized manchild into a warrior, guardian, and mentor, and a directionless runaway into a hero.

The titular boy and beast are Kyuta, a 9-year-old runaway, and Kumatetsu, a brutish swordsman. Kyuta stumbles into Kumatetsu’s world, a realm of animal-like beasts who have the capacity to ascend to godhood. Kumatetsu is one of the top competitors, but tradition dictates that Kumatetsu must have an apprentice before he can submit his name, and no one wants to train under the crass and volatile Kumatetsu. No one, except a human runaway named Kyuta.
Both strong-willed and stubborn, Kumatetsu and Kyuta are constantly at one another’s throats. You spend the first half of the movie so fed up with these two that you start to wonder if you even want them to work together. But when they’re not in a screaming match with one another, they build one another up. This they do in a way that only two people who really knew each other ever could. The anger and yelling give way to something more tender and intimate: two alienated souls whom the world has given up on but who will never give up on each other.

There’s one episode early in the film in which Kumatetsu challenges his rival for the crown, Iozen, to a public battle. The crowd is handily on the side of Iozen for the entire match. But as the entire city scoffs at Kumatetsu, Kyuta only feels empathy. Kyuta and Kumatetsu have already come nose-to-nose screaming at one another by this point, but when Kyuta sees the entire town against Kumatetsu, he sees himself in him. Kyuta knows what it’s like to feel alone and unsupported. So moved is Kyuta that he starts yelling at Kumatetsu to get back on his feet and keep fighting. For the first time, Kumatetsu hears someone cheering him on.
Kumatetsu ultimately still loses this fight, but the incident marks the beginning of their partnership. Kumatetsu finally has an apprentice, and Kyuta finally has a home. The partnership they enjoy means only that much more because we know they’ve seen one another at their worst and still choose to support the other. Their surrogate family carries Kyuta into young adulthood, ultimately shaping him into the man he needs to become.
Our own quests for greatness often force us to align ourselves with someone for whom we have little esteem. Perhaps someone in our family or our congregation who just drives us nuts. But if we recognized that our imperfections gave us a common ground, perhaps we would see each other less as stumbling blocks and more as allies. We’re all on the road to exaltation, we might as well take it together.
