Over this past Christmas, I watched Frank Capra’s classic 1946 film, It’s a Wonderful Life, keeping with the annual tradition I have.
If you’ve never seen the film, George is an ambitious young man who wants to get the Hades out of Dodge (Bedford Falls). But he’s forced to take over the family’s building and loan company when his father dies of a stroke. The antagonist, rich and heartless Henry Potter, intentionally makes trouble and tries to remove George as competition. George becomes suicidal. A guardian angel, Clarence, shows up to help George see the value in the life he has.
As far as inspirational stories that can endure, I doubt anybody can do better. The performances from the entire cast similarly are hard to top. But as I watched this year, it occurred to me that much of George’s frustration comes in little moments. It’s the accumulation of all those moments, not just the immediate financial crisis Potter deliberately creates, that causes the real trouble.
The weights put on George’s shoulders
The problems start early. As a kid, George loses his hearing in one ear as a consequence of saving his brother, Harry, from drowning in an icy pond (put that in your pocket for a moment). He gets his ears boxed when he has to help the grief-laden druggist, Mr. Gauer, from making a potentially deadly mistake. He’s excited about going to college, and over dinner, his father finally tells him it’s OK to seize his opportunity and leave instead of staying to help at the building and loan — George loses his father to a stroke the same night. He thinks he’ll still be able to get an education as he sorts out the company’s affairs. But the board backs him into a corner. They agree to keep the building and loan open, but only if George runs it. Unwilling to let Potter have more financial control over the town, he accepts the terms and uses his college money to send Harry to school.
George later goes to the train station with his Uncle Billy to pick up Harry, who is returning from college. As they wait, George shows Uncle Billy brochures about jobs and places to go. When Harry reveals he’s eloped and introduces everyone to his new wife, Ruth, George playfully asks why Ruth married his two-headed brother. Ruth explains that her father has offered Harry a job. At that, Uncle Billy says, “He got you and the job! Well, Harry’s cup runneth over!”
Uncle Billy wasn’t trying to cause George pain with his comment. But it’s salt in George’s wound, nevertheless, considering Harry’s cup runneth over largely because of George’s kindness — no one seems to notice that.
As Uncle Billy and Ruth go on ahead, Harry clarifies that Ruth spoke out of turn and that he never said he’d take the job. He implies he’ll give George the chance to take the position instead of taking it himself.
Barely daring to hope, George walks over to Ruth and asks if the job is good. She reassures him that even though it doesn’t offer much money, it’s the chance for a good future. And oh, how George has longed for a good future!
But at Harry’s homecoming party that evening, George stands outside his mother’s house by himself. He knows as everyone celebrates he cannot take the chance of a bright future away from his brother. He hears the train whistle. He discards his brochures.
He then makes his way over to Mary’s house, where he has to confront his inner conflict in the most dramatic way. He tries to tell Mary he doesn’t need her, because not having a wife would leave him free to leave town the way he always wanted.
But he does need her.
The scene isn’t just about two lovers finally confessing how they feel. It’s also about the torture of choosing between two good things the heart genuinely cares about.
A scene of tiny, dangerous cuts
As you watch George and Mary build a life and have their children, you might get the idea that George finally has been able to find some peace. But when Uncle Billy misplaces a deposit for the building and loan and Mr. Potter hides that he’s got the money, George gets desperate. He screams at Uncle Billy that he won’t be the one to go to jail.
Still trying to figure out what to do, George goes home. Mary doesn’t know about the money yet, but she can tell something is off. Through their conversation, the little daggers keep coming to make the situation worse.
- He’s in no mood to entertain, yet the family will be coming — not only to celebrate Christmas, but also to celebrate that Harry had won a medal for his effort in the war. (Harry, Harry, Harry. And remember how George lost his hearing saving him? The fact George can’t hear in one ear meant he couldn’t even join the war effort, even though Uncle Billy proudly crowed to Mr. Potter that, if George had gone to fight, he would have won two medals.)
- Their daughter, Janie, practices a Christmas carol — hearing a song about a savior as he struggles is not a balm, but ironic and irritating.
- He’s told the neighbors have a new car — yet another reminder that, as the door on his own car will barely shut, others are doing better than he is.
- He finds out the doctor’s had to come for Zuzu — it’s yet another expense. He goes upstairs to check on Zuzu and tries to be cheery for her, yet in her trust and innocence, she presents another fix-it task for him — pasting petals back on her flower.
- He looks around the house and sees only its problems, the top of the newel post for the stairs coming off in his hand.
- When Zuzu’s teacher, Mrs. Welsh, calls to check on her, George takes out his frustration and blames her for Zuzu being sick, which escalates into a conflict with Mr. Welsh.
George finally loses it and yells at his kids.
But then he walks over to the corner where his drafting papers and model bridge are. That moment tells us that, even through all those years, he has been holding on to his dream. Even through all of those years, he clung to the possibility he could live out what he’d envisioned.
He destroys the bridge. He shoves all the papers off the table.
George attacks those things because he had hoped that his sacrifices would mean something and that, someday, he’d still be able to achieve what he wanted. He had hoped that if he were patient and tried hard enough, he’d be rewarded. But as he looks at the papers and bridge, it seems prison is his only future. There will be no reward for his sacrifices, no justice for doing the right thing.
The last bearable hits
George tries to get himself back on track. He apologizes. But Mary asks him why he has to torture the kids. His family stands on one side of the room. He stands on the other. And everything he thought he had, even Mary, seems gone.
Desperate, he goes to a bar and prays for God to show him the way…
…only to have Mr. Welsh punch him in the face for his previous insults.
So, when George leaves the bar, goes to the bridge, and prepares to jump, he’s not just desperate about Mr. Potter and the money. He’s desperate because he feels like he can’t fix things the way he always has stepped in to fix things. He thinks the only thing prayer delivers is a fist to the jaw, and that his entire life of sacrificing has been for nothing.
If God doesn’t answer when you need Him to, and if a life of sacrifice has been for nothing, why keep it?
It’s time to live again
It’s a Wonderful Life is about a crisis of faith and identity as much as it is a crisis of money. But over the rest of the film, with Clarence’s help, George gets to see that he really has had a wonderful life. Everyone in town gathers at his house and donates money to help.
As it’s announced that Sam Wainwright will advance George up to $25,000, the expression on George’s face changes. George realizes that he has earned the respect even of someone who did the kind of things George tried his entire life to do.
Harry, too, who George believed had everything, toasts George and concedes that George is the richest man in town.
George hasn’t failed. Not even close.
It’s a huge change in beliefs. But as Janie finally gets to play the Christmas carol she practiced, George makes a mental shift that’s even bigger and more healing.
He doesn’t have to fix everything.
He doesn’t always have to sacrifice.
He can be the one to take help.
He can be protected, rather than only being the protector.
It’s not just a realization that community, not money, defines success (the most popular interpretation of the film).
It’s a realization he has permission to leave the helm. That he can rest. That he can let others manage it all for a while. That responsibility isn’t only his.
Life isn’t wonderful just because we can give the way Christian doctrine teaches us we ought to. Life is wonderful because we also can surrender and receive. We do not have to solve all the problems alone. We can share each other’s burdens so the weight of it all doesn’t become crushing (Galatians 6:2). We can take rest sometimes.
As you seek in your career to do the right thing for others and God, and as your responsibilities grow with your advancements, don’t let the cultural message of grit and individualism cloud the truth of how important and valuable this reciprocity is. No person, however good their intentions might be, is meant to have all the answers or be the only warrior who fights. Getting joy out of life and surviving even through the worst of it paradoxically requires that sometimes you have to stop fighting and let others sacrifice on your behalf.
That includes Jesus, who cared so much that he completed his sacrifice for you thousands of years before you were ever born.
He sacrificed so that, like George, you have the opportunity to live again.
Get off the bridge and do it.