Pursuing True Justice: Why Black Panther is a Hero

       Like many of us, I very much enjoyed the latest installment to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Panther!  It is hard to ignore the not-so-subtle societal implications of the movie.  Yet, even before getting into all of that, I enjoyed it because T'Challa debuted in Captain America: Civil War as a very cool and interesting new addition to the ever-increasing landscape of Marvel heroes, and his first solo outing did not lower the bar for this great new character, in my estimation.

    Still, while I think the societal implications of the movie are not needed in order to appreciate it, of course, they ought not be ignored.  Personally, I have very much appreciated all of the discussion emerging from this movie, even though - as with so many discussions - I can't say I agree with all of the voices coming from either side.  Still, there are good things to discuss.  Mostly, I've just been listening.  And there is much to listen to.  Not only am I not threatened or insulted by the fact that there are aspects to the significance of this movie that I cannot fully appreciate or identify with, I appreciate that fact.  One reason is because I have come to realize that it can create opportunities to attempt to better understand, and thus to be better equipped to engage the world in which we live, not to mention being personally enriched.  I have often thought that some of the approaches to responding to racial tension, which focus on altogether ignoring or disregarding a person's race or ethnic background (ie. "color-blindness" or "one race") are well intended, but might not be the best solution.  Is it not better to embrace one another as we are, remaining open to the fact that a person's race or ethnic background just might be a part of who they are?  Are not those elements of a person's identity, personality or temperament they themselves consider to be connected to their race or ethnic background worth striving to understand and even appreciate?  I have often found this to be the case.  That is why I appreciate listening to the various perspectives on this movie.

       From my perspective, I find it easy to see how Killmonger is portrayed as a sympathetic villain.  It was striking how he was attempting to reclaim something that was taken from him, how he was a victim of his circumstances, and how he seemed to have a sincere intention to save his people and even to save Wakanda.  It was also striking to watch the respect and compassion of T'Challa toward him.  Yet, this is part of what made him interesting, because on the surface he also seemed to be a pretty blatant parallel to a very common perception of our current president, by so many of the loudest voices in our culture.  I mean, when you consider how many of the "good guys" are conflicted because of this "enemy on the throne" (because he apparently obtained the throne legitimately) whose solution is apparently to arm more people... it looks like they are either talking about Trump or the episode of "The Office" when Dwight was manager for a day.

       Yet, there is even more to the understanding of how this villain is sympathetic that has required a bit more listening.  Even I have often considered how I experience a sense of disconnect from the European cultures from which my ancestors came and yet, one of the reasons I mention this is precisely to point out that this is hardly comparable to the experience of those whose disconnect from their cultural ancestry was not due an ancestor's free choice to emigrate here in pursuit of freedom and prosperity, but rather to the abomination of slavery.  One moment that helped me to better understand the full extent to which many people might identify with Killmonger's plight was in reading about the thoughts of the movie's star, Chadwick Boseman himself.  In a recent interview, his explanation of the sympathetic nature of Killmonger's character extends to the point of saying that he considers his own character, T'Challa (Black Panther) to be the real enemy.  His explanation for this speaks of the power that T'Challa grew up with and took for granted, in contrast to Killmonger, who identifies more with the experience of so many African Americans.  I truly am grateful for his perspective.

       Why, then, do I emphatically disagree with him, to the extent that I find his suggestion very dangerous?  Boseman identifies "power" as the enemy and acknowledges that Killmonger is pursuing "greatness" (although it seems like his comments might imply that he also acknowledges that his pursuit of power and greatness is warped).  Having power does not make one a villain.  Abuse of that power is what makes them a villain.  After a few readings of Boseman's thoughts and giving it some serious consideration, it does not seem that he intends to imply that by Killmonger is, then, a hero.  But, rather, that T'Challa represents the very "system" of power that turned him into a villain.  This makes sense, on one level, and one can see how sympathizing with him can even lead to a sort of grief that he went down the path he did.  However, if one were to attempt to channel that grief in a productive direction, rather than perpetuating the problem, it seems they would seek to respond differently to a similar hardship.  It seems a very basic level of this different response would be to refrain from indiscriminately viewing those with power as an enemy, without considering how they are using that power.  What makes someone a hero or an enemy is not the problem they are experiencing, but their solution to the problem.  Killmonger's solution is undeniably wicked and to reach the conclusion that such murderous actions are justified because of the depth of the problem is extremely dangerous.  I don't think that Boseman has come to that conclusion, but I do fear that his comments could leave people with that impression.  If we were to apply this mentality to real life, which is a connection many people are making, this will continue to tear our culture apart.  We agree about the injustices done to Killmonger and I am grateful to better understand how many people can identify with his plight on a level that I cannot.  But, there is a difference between affirming that he is a victim of injustice and going on to conclude that he is then justified in taking so many human lives in the pursuit of power.  Pursuing power for its own sake has never made anyone great or heroic, but it has made many into villains.  The response to the injustices he has suffered ought to be the pursuit of justice, not power or even greatness necessarily.  Precisely what makes T'Challa such a great hero is that he does sympathize with Killmonger.  He does respect him.  He even grows because of him.  Yet, it does not change the fact that he must be stopped!  

      By contrast, T'Challa is aware of the brokenness of the situation from which he comes and he clearly intends to work to correct it.  But, he will not do so by perpetuating reactionary violence and injustice.  This makes him a true hero and a worthy king.  He is not perfect.  Like so many of the Marvel heroes, he is complicated, messy and even broken, but he is striving for goodness, justice and truth.  We ought to stop and notice that.  We ought to follow that example.  So many of the disagreements that tear our culture apart are not about the problems, but the solution.  The failure to make that distinction is one of our greatest modern downfalls.  Far too often, we fixate upon the solution we are promoting to the extent that we will not listen to or respect the other side, but judgmentally accuse them of being unconcerned about the problem.  This has to stop.  Otherwise, we will raise a generation of Killmongers and we will lose sight of any basis for establishing justice.  Instead, may we recognize the plight of our neighbors and work together, communicating with one another with a clear mind and mutual respect in order to pursue a solution that works to promote genuine justice.

More Thoughts on the Avengers

Previous Thoughts on the Avengers 

Discerning the Spirits of the Force, Episode IV: The Last Spark of Hope

       Why did I choose the sub-title, "The Last Spark of Hope"?  Perhaps because that is precisely what they left us with, in terms of hope for the future of this series.  I'm sure some of you are suspicious of the claim that they left us even with that.  I have talked to, read, and watched countless fans who are determined to hate the latest installment in the series, "The Last Jedi".  And I sympathize with many of the criticisms they bring up, and in some cases, I wholeheartedly agree.  Yet, I find myself growing weary of the sense that this movie (or any movie) can "ruin my childhood" as is sometimes said or implied.  Thus, I suppose the principle I would like to begin from is the first of the seven principles upon which I have founded this blog: Stay Grounded.  Yes, this story has meant a lot to a lot of us over the years, but if we have allowed it to define our lives, or even any part of our lives, something went seriously wrong a long time ago, which is not the fault of Disney or Rian Johnson.  I think a lot of that is seen in the way many fans uncritically embrace the "wisdom of the jedi" and apply it to their lives, in the process sometimes even twisting what they believe, perhaps because they subconsciously want Star Wars to be more consistent with it than it actually is.  And a world of hurt results.  There are certainly some good things to be embraced in what this story has offered us over the years, and some more problematic ones.  We have to be willing to be discerning about that.  For more on that, feel free to go back to the first episode of this series (or jump forward to this one).  For now, I will simply conclude this little introduction by sharing that one of my favorite responses I have read to the film is this one.     

     *** WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD ***

       So, what is the last spark of hope?  Despite all of the weaknesses in the film, and taking for granted that they do indeed exist and may even be plentiful, this episode in the series did leave us with something very valuable, which is best summarized in the quote of the princess-turned-general, repeated by multiple characters in the movie.  "Hope is like the sun.  If you only believe in it when you see it, you'll never make it through the night." ***leaving a moment for angry fans, tempted to give up on this series altogether because of one movie that wasn't what many of us wanted it to be, to consider the implications here for their hope in the series (C'mon, people! We made it through the prequels!)***  Much like my thoughts on "Rogue One," one of the things I appreciate about this movie is how the portrayal of a very dark story becomes an opportunity to plant a potent seed of hope.  However, in a sense, the darkness of the story is even more fitting here.  Remember, this is the second episode in a trilogy.  It is supposed to leave us with the sense that everything has fallen apart.  For this reason, we have good reason for reserving final judgment until we see how things are resolved in the final episode of the trilogy.  Although, I will try hard not to think too much about how different that movie could have been (Eternal rest grant unto Carrie, O Lord...).

       
       Meanwhile, it is Ben Solo that stands at the center of the more interesting reflection on hope.  Remember that Star Wars has always been a story about a family.  Leia's "last spark of hope" in the eventual victory of the Resistance/Rebellion is really a reflection of the last spark of hope she holds for her son.  Thus, the incredibly dark ending of the movie, when there is barely a final spark left, is not just about the dire state of the war against the First Order, but about the fact that, by this time in the story, we have seen two tragically failed attempts to reclaim him from the dark side.  And this really makes sense.  While Kylo Ren is not as menacing and strong of a villain as Vader was (and that's supposed to be part of the point), he is certainly as shiver-inducingly evil, if not more so.  In fact, while he may not have been the villain some fans wanted from a sequel trilogy, it makes him a very interesting next step in the story.  He is determined not to "fall away" from the dark side the way his grandfather finally did.  What finally broke Vader?  His love for his son.  That is the beauty of Leia's response to Han, in "The Force Awakens," when he tries to pass off the job of reclaiming Ben on Luke: "Luke's a Jedi; you're his father."  Luke was not able to reclaim Vader because he was now a Jedi.  He was able to do it because he was his son.  Ben realizes that, and he is determined to rid himself of the "weakness" that finally became his grandfather's "downfall." Thus, while the story does seem to allude to definite tension between father and son, this is not about daddy issues.  He didn't murder his father because he hated him.  He did it because he loved him (which is why it's sad that his motivation seems to be a little watered down in this film).  That is the depth of his sickness.  Yet, that same love truly is the "weakness" that remains as the last spark of hope for him.  He meant what he said that he needed Han's help to kill him.  He could not do it on his own, but had to take advantage of that spark of hope that was fueling Han's love, as he laid his life on the line for his son and for the woman he loved.  For the same reason, when he was alone in a cockpit, he could not bring himself to fire the shot that might have killed his mother.  That final spark of hope remains, leaving us to wonder whether there could be any actual truth to Rey's claim, when she finally leaves Luke, that Ben must be their last hope.

       And that takes us to the biggest controversy of all: the portrayal of Luke in this movie.  This may be a very unpopular opinion, but that is one of the parts of this movie that I thought was more well done than the rest. ***ducking to avoid flying vegetables or rocks***  First of all, the portrayal of the very dark place Luke is in, at this his final hour, is not unrealistic.  It's just not what (many) fans wanted.  Well, to that, I can only say (with love), get over it.  The irony is that the strong backlash to Luke's portrayal proves part of Johnson's apparent point.  It is proof that many fans have idealized Luke into this legend who couldn't possibly be in this dark place near the end.  Well, this idealization fails to recall what Luke was actually like in the original trilogy.  He was whiny, impulsive, and overly emotional.  It was not his unbreakable strength or wisdom or added maturity that made him the hero of "Return of the Jedi".  It was his love and his childlike faith that there must still be good in his father.  The beauty of his return to Endor as the hero, at the end, is that he didn't go there to kill the Emperor or win the war.  He went in to save one soul.  And in the process, his lack of control over his emotions was almost the end of him multiple times.  Part of the reason he proves Yoda wrong is, not only because his father's final destiny is not "forever dominated" by the dark side, but because he himself (according to the rules Yoda has taught him about the light and dark) falls down the dark path a few times in that throne room battle.  So, the character traits he has demonstrated over the years make it quite likely that, in the end, after a failure that cuts him so deep, he could mask his despair in now more sophisticated sounding whining.  That is totally Luke Skywalker with Rey on that island.  We just don't like to see him that way.  I get that.  I didn't like it, per se, either.  But, it becomes a very interesting "final chapter" for him.

       So, what is it that really cuts him so deep?  The irony is that all of the silly philosophical, religious critique he launches into is just a distraction.  It reminds me a bit of the moment in the dialogue with the Samaritan Woman at the Well (John 4), when Jesus starts talking about her own personal sin and brokenness and she responds by quickly redirecting the conversation to external matters of rules for worship.  Yet, Rey eventually unveils the truth, during the "lesson" about failure, that the real issue is about his failure with his nephew.  Yet, an important part of that pain is clearly about how he failed his sister, who entrusted her own son to him.  It is most interesting how both Han and Luke are profoundly motivated by their love for Leia in their final episodes (just as them discovering their respective loves for her was crucial to the original trilogy).  The story has always been about the love within the Skywalker family.  Thus, with all this emotion involved, the impulsive fear response he describes when he realized the depth of Ben's darkness is not unbelievable.  But, it is just that: impulsive fear.  It was not a clear and decisive act.  But, it could not be undone.  It reminds me a bit of the story behind the martyrdom of Saint Thomas Beckett, whose murder was unintentionally ordered by his friend, King Henry II.  He was speaking out of pure emotional impulse, without any decisive intent to order his friend's death.  But, it could not be undone.  There is definitely some truth to Yoda's insistence that failure is a powerful teacher.  Luke's failure is meant to teach us all not to allow ourselves to be ruled by our emotions, as he so often is.  This final failure to control his emotions (which was always a battle for him) shows us just how disastrous the result can be, even if we would not have necessarily followed through.  And so this story about "the last spark of hope" was not just about hope for redeeming the villain, but about hope for redeeming the one with whom Leia identifies the spark itself, who now finds himself at the lowest point of his life.  And his final "redemption" is very interesting indeed.  But, some spark of hope is finally reignited in him, which is enough to prompt him to go, not only to help the rebels escape, but to relight that spark of hope in his sister.  His dialogue with Ben in the process of the showdown is most interesting and we will see whether it amounts to any seeds planted for the future.  But, it is interesting to see how Rey was instrumental in forcing him to deal with the source of his despair, his inability to reconcile with his own failure.  With the help of a final appearance from his old mentor, the spark is reignited (with the not-so-subtle symbol of a tree set ablaze).

        Truly, this was not the story many of us wanted, but it does become an interesting tale about the last spark of hope for the Skywalker family and for the galaxy.  In both Ben and Luke, we see how love is both what leads to their downfall, in different senses for each, and what holds the hope for their redemption.  Love indeed is a "weakness."  It makes us vulnerable.  It leads us to change and even to lay down our lives.  And it also renews our lives.  It is the full extent of our strength.  It is the last spark of hope.  And it is not snuffed out.                                       

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5 Songs Worth Learning to Listen To in 2017 (Christmas & New Year Bonus!)

       Last year, I laid out the meaning of a "Song Worth Learning To Listen To."  This year, we have an especially diverse list.  And let me say before going further that I am far less attached to the order this year.  With some of these songs, I went back and forth as to which should be first, second, third, etc.  The significance of the order lies more in the flow of the overall reflection, from one meaning, theme, or topic to another.  But, focus on the list, rather than the order.  Now, let's just dive right in...

Honorable Mention: Only Wanna Sing

by Hillsong Young and Free

     This song was chosen as an honorable mention mainly because, as a praise and worship song, it technically falls outside of my own established parameters.  Nonetheless, there is something striking about this song, which I would describe precisely as making it worth learning to listen to.  My first encounter with the song was during the evening programs of a youth service camp this past summer.  What struck me was the great irony of the song.  My generation found such irony in "Heart of Worship," as we were moved by a beautiful song, which challenged us to give "more than a song."  "Only Wanna Sing" takes the concept to a whole new level.  No other song that whole week had the same level of energy to get them so hyped.  Yet, the whole point of the song is to challenge us to not get caught up in the hype.  I was struck by this one night, as the worship leaders stopped in the middle of the song, surrounded by a thick mob of dancing teenagers caught up in the moment, to invite them to understand what they were really being invited into.  This was not because the dancing was bad, but because they wanted them not to miss the depth being offered to them.  May every such moment challenge us to go deeper...

5: Hopeless Romantic

by Michelle Branch

     When I was a teenager, I thought like a teenager, spoke like a teenager, and listened to Michelle Branch like a teenager.  When I became an adult, I rocked out to her new album.  When Branch released Spirit Room, there was something about the youthful optimism with which she sang about love that struck me at the time as sometimes bearing a certain resemblance to the way a young, recent convert might sing of their relationship with the Lord.  By the time of the release of Hotel Paper, it was clear that her earlier optimism had grown jaded by broken relationships. (Incidentally, this sophomore tragedy found an interesting little counterpart in the one-album wonder, The Wreckers.) The long awaited follow-up full-length album seems to tell a tale of reaching a point of resolution.  In some ways, she sings of a rather tragic resolve.  But, there is beauty in that tragedy.  The honesty of "Hopeless Romantic" captures that beauty in a unique way.  Even the words themselves contain a striking honesty.  Understand that I don't claim to be able to speak for Branch's own thoughts or intentions.  Furthermore, I do fear that many listeners will miss the caution this song carries.  But, the kind of hopeless romantic depicted in this song is one whose passions are stirring them toward something that is not good for them, that will not satisfy them, but will actually become their downfall.  The more they allow themselves to be driven by these emotions the more their hope is lost, since hope is what reorders our passions toward their fulfillment.  Yet, reason continues to keep hope alive in the form of her honesty.  May that hope, grounded in reason and truth, continue to stir within each of us, that we may find true fulfillment. 

4: The Promise
by Chris Cornell

     Even preparing to write this description, and listening to the song again in the process, takes me back to that place I was in earlier this year, when I was hit unexpectedly hard by the news of the passing of such an iconic figure of an era of music that will always remind me of my youth.  I don't speak of simply surprise at the news of his death, or the reports regarding the cause of death.  It is not my intentional at all to get into any judgment or speculation about his own interior struggles.  But, when I listen to his music now, I am simply overwhelmed with... gratitude... as well as grief.  Yet, the thought that the final song we would hear from him, one of the best songs of his career, beckons its listeners (regardless of its original intention, which I do not think is lost or detracted from by the new significance it holds in light of his passing) to keep a promise to "persevere and thrive" ... I can't put into words what that does to those of us who were impacted by his music.  And yet, I don't think I have to.  Thank you, Chris.  Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.  And let perpetual light shine upon him.  May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.

3: Wounded Healer
by Audrey Assad

     I have to admit that this is a song that I myself am still learning to listen to.  Yet, it keeps pulling me back.  With a marvelously simple chorus, Assad draws us into the ever new mystery that we can trust Our Lord with our broken hearts.  The reality of His suffering, His identification with pain and woundedness emboldens us to trust Him.  Assad has revealed her pain, as someone who understands suffering, through many beautifully honest songs over the years.  She has also shown us glimpses of the healing power of love she has encountered along her journey.  She is one of those powerful song-writers who blends the depth of the Catholic Christian tradition with the depth of her own experience, whether painful or joyful.  Along the way, she has shown herself as one who understands the process of healing.  In this song, she is simply introducing us to the Healer, and inviting us to join her in entrusting our hearts to Him.

   

2: True Sadness 

by The Avett Brothers

     This song is an interesting follow-up to the number one song of the 2016 list ("Happiness" by NeedToBreathe), as it also features a refrain, which references that sense of being awakened in the middle of the night by dreams of something greater.  Yet, it initially seems that The Avett Brothers take that experience in the opposite direction, not toward "Happiness," but toward "True Sadness."  But, upon learning to listen to the song, we begin to realize that they are utilizing their characteristic honesty to point toward the futility of the things that we seek after in life, the things we dream of, which we imagine will bring us happiness.  The reality of being left unfulfilled, because of this misguided seeking is indeed the "True Sadness" that we find within humanity when we "peel a few layers."  Yet, the song is not one of pessimism of despair.  Rather, it seems to be challenging us to keep peeling away layers to find something deeper.  It seems we are meant not only to pity, or even just to respect, but also to identify with Angela (sung about in the third verse), and to have a moment of realization, not just about about her, but about ourselves, when they finally ask "Does she not have a heart?"

1: Gloria
by Josh Garrels

     Just over a year ago, Garrels released a beautiful Christmas album (The Light Came Down) that played, not like he chose to play into a gimmick or take his turn at a token holiday album, but rather like he wanted his next project to be a reflection on the Incarnation, and knew that the best way to do that would involve tapping into the rich existing tradition of Christmas songs, yet from his own unique perspective.  Of all the excellent tracks on this album, "Gloria" best reflects what makes the whole album great: the rich infusion of Garrels' own unique flavor with a variety of existing Christmas classics, leaving us with an original work, which also pays tribute to some of its precursors.   In this song, the 'gloria' feels very real, because it rises victoriously out of the entrance of our God into the depth of our darkness, where, "All of life's surrendering, beneath the death that winter brings, in hope of new life."  Yet, part of the beauty of the song is how the inclusion of elements of a couple familiar carols leaves us with the remembrance that this hope of a victorious 'gloria' rising out of our darkness is something both ever ancient and ever new.  The faithfulness of our God is learned from the stories and the hymns handed down, yet it is incarnated in our own unique and unrepeatable lives.  This is indeed a great depiction of the joy of Christmas in all of its glory.

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A Reality Bigger Than We Know: Thor and The Value of Myth

       It is not surprising to find rich symbolism in the story of a hero based in mythology, however unlikely it may seem find it in that of a comic book superhero.  I have begun to comment on this before, in my first presentation at the Heart Speaking to Heart Symposiums, Communio and Heroism.  But, this was just the beginning.

      We already established the basic concept that Thor was the first in the Marvel Cinematic Universe to expand the audience's vision of the universe beyond earth.  His home planet is spoken of as a different realm, the inhabitants of which visited earth generations ago, spawning a series of myths, found especially among the Norsemen. As such, he comes to us as one from a mythical land and has the mythic quality of inviting us to ponder whether reality is indeed bigger than we realize.   In the process, the entrance of Thor into the movies also begins the process of what seems to be a common theme in how the Marvel Cinematic Universe approaches many of the more mythological or quasi-spiritual components of its stories, namely de-mythologization.

       De-Mythologization: This is essentially the process of decoding the "myths" in such a way that seeks to offer a perfectly scientific explanation to what those who sought to explain the inexplicable called a myth.  In the process, all myth is reduced to simply things that represent components of reality of which we simply were not yet aware, or did not yet understand, but are nonetheless strictly natural and understandable through the physical sciences.  Now, there is an element of truth here, because faith and reason are, in fact, compatible because faith is the relationship with the Creator, who is in fact Reason Himself.  Furthermore, just because we are not aware of something, cannot understand it, or furthermore don't believe in it does not mean that is untrue.  Reality truly is bigger than we know.  But, it does not logically follow that all that is real can necessarily be emperically observed and studied in its totality.  Nonetheless, we see how this method of de-mythologization can be used for good or for ill.  On one hand, it has been used by some supposed Scripture scholars to attempt to eliminate anything miraculous or basically anything Divine from that glorious and True Myth, the story of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  In the process, they betray both faith and reason.  However, it is actually quite helpful that Marvel did in fact apply the method to the mythology upon which Thor is based, so that the viewer need not accept that Thor is in fact "a god" in the context of the story, thus impacting the whole worldview upon which this many-faceted story is based, even though this will not stop them, in future references, from making endless plays on words with regards to him being "a god".  So, the question that remains is how far they will extend this method.  Will they actually attempt to de-mythologize everything that the natural sciences cannot actually explain, every myth (real or fantastical) that has ever captivated the human heart?     

      Thor and The New Adam: This takes us (closer) to the main point.  Intentional or not, for better or for worse, there does appear to be a handful of parallels drawn between Thor and Our Lord, Jesus Christ.  He is the son of the father, who is sent down to earth - it seems, to some degree - to become one of us (in the first Thor movie).  His mission to earth culminates with an act of self-sacrifice, which gives way to a sort of resurrection.  Upon apparently rising again, he is restored to his full Asgardian strength, manifesting his power.  Here we see one of the key differences, which may in fact represent a way in which the Incarnation of Jesus Christ is sometimes misunderstood.  Christ did not lose His Divinity, waiting to be restored to it at the Resurrection.  He was always fully God and fully man.  Meanwhile, the nature of Thor's mission to earth and the apparent change in his nature is left unexplained, but it seems he is neither fully man nor fully Asgardian.  This looks like the Incarnation, but it is quite different (besides the fact that he is not God, of course).

       The First Adam: Also striking is the difference found in what brings him to earth in the first place.  Here, he resembles not so much the New Adam (see Romans 5 or 1 Corinthians 15), Jesus Christ, but the first Adam.  In his arrogance and pride, he is tempted and persuaded to defy the father.  His disobedience and dishonor to his father result in him falling out of favor for a time and being cast out of Asgard.  Yet, there is a theme running through his debut movie that Odin (the father) has a plan to restore what was broken and bring his son home.  In this way, we do see some small glimmer of the hope of restoration given in the "Proto-evangelion" (first gospel) in which God, the Father offers the first hint (Genesis 3:15) that there will be an Offspring (Christ) of the woman (Mary) who will crush the head of the serpent (Satan) by accomplishing the work of redemption by His Cross and Resurrection.  Ultimately, the first Thor is not as much a story about him coming to earth as a savior as it is about this arrogant, foolish young man learning a lesson of humility, which he will need as king.

       A Prodigal Brother?:  For me, when it really gets exciting is when his brother, Loki (the deceiver of the first film) comes to earth as a villain in The Avengers.  When Thor comes back to earth, it is clear that his mission is not simply to stop his brother, but to bring him home to the Father.  Seriously, that scene on the mountain... so good!

       Redemption:  As the story continues into Thor: The Dark World, we see that he still has not lost hope for the redemption of his brother.  Of course, the deceiver still does not stop deceiving, and we see the effects of this as they continue to try to rebuild their relationship in the latest installment, Thor: Ragnarok.  On one hand, we see Thor's hope and trust in his brother waning even more.  Yet, we also see glimmers that perhaps Loki does still desire some kind of relationship... perhaps he even holds some desire for redemption?

But, before we continue discussing Thor: Ragnarok...

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD
I mean, technically, we've spoiled the other movies already, but let's be honest, if you haven't seen those yet, why are you reading this?

If you haven't seen Thor: Ragnarok, you probably don't get this.  If you have... just think for a minute.

       Hope and Meaning: Very early on, we see Thor lose nearly all that he holds dear.  On one hand, one may think he has every reason to despair.  And to be fair, perhaps it more his stubbornness or even his pride, rather than simply hope, that causes him to keep fighting.  Yet, his misfortunes bring him into contact with a few key characters in need of having their hope restored.  Of course, there is everyone's favorite green smashing machine.  And we can see how he does this for Hulk, who doesn't want to return to earth, where he is hated and feared.  Yet, perhaps even more striking is his interaction with Valkyrie.  She was a great warrior who fought for the same world as Thor.  But, her kind were defeated long ago, leaving her the lone survivor.  In her stubborn reluctance to go back and fight for Asgard, we see the connection between despair and meaninglessness.  Her despair has caused her to cling to a meaningless existence, in which nothing is really worth fighting for... except perhaps for entertainment.  And this is part of the insulting nature of the Grandmaster's games.  For Thor, battle is not a show (for more on this idea, go here).  For him... the struggle is real (sorry, couldn't resist).  It was once real for Valkyrie too.  Yet, her sense of honor has been disillusioned by defeat.  And we see her apparent disinterest in the games.  We sense she's a bit disgusted by them, but she's not willing to do anything about it.  She'll just keep bringing the Grandmaster contenders as long as she profits and it keeps her liquor cabinet stocked.  Until Thor finally is able to restore her sense of purpose and her hope that her home world is worth fighting for... Just in time for that world to be destroyed.

       Asgard Is a People:  I love this.  Besides the surprising nature of the ending, it was the perfect next step for a new direction for the character and the series.  (Seriously, don't tell me I'm the only one wondering how it will affect Earth to have all those Agardians running around.)  Cap already had his moment of initiating the crumbling of SHIELD, but that was more about destroying something that was far too deeply broken (all the while striving to save the people, who are never too far gone for Cap).  But, in its deeper meaning, this looks even more like Tony's ending in Iron Man 3, only it hits much harder and cuts much deeper.  Thor was not destroying (or letting the 'big monster' destroy) something because it was broken, but because he had to learn he could live without it.  He was missing the point of what it meant for him to king.  It wasn't about saving "the world," but about saving the people.  This character who has gradually been learning the lesson of humility, which he needed to shepherd and lead his people (which bears some resemblance to Stark already), is now brought to a point in which he steps in to lead under circumstances he likely never would have imagined.  It holds some small glimmer of the misunderstanding of the disciples of Christ about the nature of His Kingship.  Granted, it would precisely not be their task to destroy anything.  Yet, we cannot help but think about Our Lord's prophecy about the destruction of the Temple, and its symbolic connection to the New Temple of God (1 Peter 2), the Body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12), the Church.  And of what does this Body consist?  It's many members, the people that the King has redeemed, to whom "He gave power to become children of God" (John 1).  The Kingdom consists of the people, yet the people would not be a people, if not for the King who alone brings the fulfillment of His own prayer: "that they may all be one, as You, Father, are in me and I in you, that they may also be in us" (John 17).  Jesus unites us as a people, in Himself, as members of His Body, in order to bring us home to the Father.

      These are just a few of the things I noticed.  What have you noticed?               


Previous Thoughts on the Avengers

More on the Avengers

Fatherhood, Motherhood and Stranger Things

"I give praise to You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, 

for although You have hidden these things from the wise and the learned 

You have revealed them to the childlike." 

- Matthew 11:25

       The childlike simplicity that increases one's capacity for true wonder plays a role in many great stories over the years.  One great example that comes to mind is the C.S. Lewis fantasy, The Chronicles of Narnia. This is quite a different story from the more recent Netflix sensation, Stranger Things - in fact, it was very tempting to attempt to make this post a comparison and contrast piece between the Pevensie children and the kids from Stranger Things.  The style of the show is more readily and commonly compared to the adventures told from the perspectives of children in the 80's and 90's, especially by Steven Spielberg.  However, another example, which is still closer to the genre than Narnia and probably has not been drawn into comparison as frequently, can be found in the early works of M. Night Shyamalan, such as Signs, Unbreakable and The Sixth Sense. 

      Perhaps the most striking aspect of the role of children in these early Shyamalan works is how the noble simplicity of the children is contrasted, not only with the darkest parts of our broken world, but with the brokenness of the adults, who have been weathered by years of navigating the darkness of the world.  In fact, the role of the children, particularly in the danger of their encounter with the darkness in our world, sometimes becomes the occasion for a sort of reawakening of the goodness and strength in the adults, which had grown dormant.  In fact, it is striking how both Unbreakable (more on this series here) and Signs seem like essentially stories of the restoration of broken fatherhood, with the help of the father's child or children.  The restoration of his fatherhood enables an awakening or reawakening of a deeper strength that enables him to be of service to more than just his family.  It enables him to become a hero and a servant to others.

Perhaps the most striking quote from Signs

       It is hard to miss this dynamic between the children and the adults in Stranger Things.  Most prominently, we have the examples of Joyce Byers and Chief Hopper.  Both are dealing with a lot of brokenness in their lives, both tied to the (feared or actual) loss of a child.  Joyce exhibits many strange behaviors and shows signs of possibly suffering from some mental illness, as most of the other characters presume of her.  However, it becomes clear that her unrelenting motherly devotion to her son and commitment to finding him at all costs - no matter how crazy she appears in the process - has actually made possible a hope within her that enables her to uncover some of the "stranger things" into which her son has become caught up.  Her fearless devotion to the task of finding her son - which most within the town believe to be hopeless - gradually prompts Chief Hopper to take up the task in earnest.  

       When we meet Chief Hopper, he is a rather degenerate character.  We soon learn that at least some of his issues are tied to the loss of his daughter.  While there is still much about that story that is left unlearned by the audience, we do gradually see how his commitment to finding Will and unraveling whatever web the boy has been caught up into renews his concern for his past life and his family.  There is an intriguing sort of redemptive story arc with Chief Hopper, who does become a sort of unlikely hero, as the mystery unravels.  Yet, it is still the case that the primary heroes of the story seem to be the children.  

       The devotion of Mike, Dustin and Lucas to the task of finding their friend continually drives them onward, aided by the childlike worldview that they possess, despite having already encountered much of this world's brokenness (and only finding increasingly more, as the plot thickens).  Yet, to stay on topic, it is worth noting their relationships with their parents.  The only parents we really get to know are those of the Wheelers (Mike & Nancy) and the Byers's (Will & Jonathon).  The Wheeler family is depicted as the typical suburban "happy" "nuclear family."  Dad is distant and aloof, not even noticing how inaccessible he is to his children.  The mother tries to be supportive and understanding, but fails to listen and understand her children, thus failing to really guard them from the brokenness they get swept into.  Still, beside some moments when she really misses the mark, in general it seems she is genuinely doing the best she can.  The Byers family is portrayed as what appears, on the surface, to be the exact opposite.  While we have to look a little deeper to see the brokenness in the Wheeler household, in the Byers home, we meet a mother who is widely considered to be "crazy" (as discussed above), who has already been left by the rather deadbeat dad.  

This is not to literally endorse violence, but simply a firm
rejection of any boy who doesn't treat you with due respect.

       This leaves Jonathan to basically become the responsible adult in the household.  We see how he is dealing with a deal of brokenness of his own.  And yet, he is left to be the one trying to hold the household together.  The teens on the show appear in a unique position in this dynamic between children and adults.  In different ways, they each depict children growing to be adults, each within their own obstacles.  Jonathan's protective and defensive concern for his family is juxtaposed with Nancy, whose lack of feeling understood and affirmed by her family leads to a whole mess of ruin.  Very quickly, we get the impression of a girl who is so starved for affirmation and affection, that she is vulnerable to falling into the arms of a predator.  Make no mistake.  Everything about Steve's behavior reveals a boy whose selfishness and immaturity leads him to take advantage of girls like Nancy (notice how the bedroom scene is interwoven with Barb's abduction - Nancy is being preyed upon).  It is heart-wrenching how easily he charms Nancy, taking advantage of her longing to feel beautiful and loved, despite his total unwillingness to express any noble or clear intentions, not to mention any genuine respect for her.  We will see whether the gradual redemptive arc Steve undergoes is genuine and holds or not.  Nonetheless, if any young ladies are reading this, I beg you not to give any boy who behaves like Steve the time of day.  And to any young men reading this, don't be like Steve; don't necessarily be like Jonathan either, but definitely don't be like Steve.  This is not a love triangle meant to prompt viewers to choose "Team Steve" or "Team Jonathan."  It is also not as simple as Jonathan being the good guy.  He has his darkness too.  But, the relationship between Jonathan, Nancy and Steve is meant to offer contrasting glimpses into how children can respond to brokenness in their own homes and in our world, as they strive to grow into adulthood.

     Lastly, we cannot forget Eleven.  It is with her that we see the most extreme example of a child who lacks the presence of a proper relationship to any parents or other adults.  Even her "powers" are the result of the abuse of her "papa."  Further, we see how her fear of her abusers leads to a reluctance to trust adults.  It is from the other children that she is able to learn about trust and friendship.  Yet, her caution may actually be an appropriate strategy in this extreme situation, due to her awareness of the far reach and deception of those who represent the "bad place" from which she comes.  Fear is sometimes an appropriate reaction, meant to help us make prudent situations in dangerous or difficult situations (for more on a healthy understanding of "negative" emotions like fear, go here).  Yet, we see how the contrast between her fear and the wonder of the other children, who are not only amazed by her "powers" but will not give up their commitment to finding their friend, becomes an obstacle in their quest.  

       Fear and wonder come into contact in the midst of an adventure like this, and we see them both especially alive in children.  Fear offers caution to wonder, while wonder reawakens what fear may seek to destroy, when it is given too much power.  This reawakening results in hope.  Hope helps us move forward, even when fear attempts to freeze us in place.  

Keeping our eyes on Christ helps us not allow fear to take over.

       By the time we reach adulthood, we often have been weathered by the brokenness of the world.  Sometimes wonder at what the Lord can and does do in our lives remains alive in our hearts.  Other times, fear takes over.  Other times, we have not allowed fear to offer us the caution we need.  Thus, we become wounded, not only as the result of our own decisions, but also by the way that others have hurt us.  Think of how Nancy rejects the caution and concern of her friend, Barb, leading her also to shut out her mother.  Still, we have examples like Jonathan, whose own neglect by his parents leaves him vulnerable to developing a pattern of thinking he has to take care of everything himself.

       Meanwhile, in reality, when the Lord calls us to take up our vocation, the question remains of whether we will allow fear to take over or allow hope to embolden us.  In one way or another, we will be called to live, not merely for ourselves, but for God and others.  We see from countless examples, even secular stories like Stranger Things, which allow us a glimpse of the dynamic between children and adults, how our own actions can influence the future of others, especially the children we impact.  Yet, we also see how they can influence us.  We need to allow their wonder to help keep hope alive in our hearts.  As we comfort and encourage them amidst their fears, we can allow even their fears to offer us the caution we need to make responsible decisions.  We are not our own.  May we embrace the life we are called to live for God and others with courage and hope.    

More on Seeing Through the Eyes of a Child>>>

Wolverine: A Man and His Wounds (Archived Post)

        Now seems like the right time to share the first presentation I ever gave at a Pop Culture Symposium (which inspired the Heart Speaking to Heart Symposium, which inspired this blog).  It was a reflection given while I was in seminary, to my brother-seminarians at the time, on themes of masculinity and healing in the character of X-Men's Wolverine.  At the time, the most recent X-Men movie was X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

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       I would like to begin with a word from Scripture.  In Judges 15: 14-15 it says “the ropes around his arms became as flax that is consumed by fire and his bonds melted away from his hands.  Near him was the fresh jawbone of an ass; he reached out, grasped it, and with it killed a thousand men.”  My point in beginning with this is simply this: the character of Wolverine is not original.  Rather, he is cut from the same mold, if you will, as Samson (our hero from Judges 13-16).  I say this not to imply that Samson is merely a literary character.  Rather, I speak primarily in terms of the way that we encounter the character. 

         And of course, Wolverine is not the first character to be cut from the mold of Samson.  Consider those who went before him: First Blood’s Rambo, Die Hard’s John McClane, Walker Texas Ranger’s Chuck Norris, and of course, Team Fist’s George Mahas (this is an inside joke to the community; George is a very mild-mannered friend of ours).  There is something about these characters that intrigues us.

     We look and we think… his feats seem ridiculous… his strength and his rage unparalleled… and he causes us to ask, “Am I supposed to like this guy?”  So, let’s ask for a moment: why do we love Logan, a.k.a Wolverine?  Why is he so popular?  This has been my question for years, ever since I was kid collecting cards and getting up early on Saturday mornings to watch X-Men Animated Series.  I was all about Gambit, Nightcrawler, or even Morph.  But, I could not see why everyone loved Wolverine.  And now, he’s the first of the X-Men to get his own movie, even though Magneto’s story is far more relevant to the series.  So, what is unique about him?  Why do men love Wolverine?  Why do they want to be Wolverine?  After giving this some serious thought and prayer (because I’m a nerd and that’s what nerds do – we take things like comic books really seriously), the suggestion I offer lies with his mutant power: the healing factor.  For anyone who does not know, Logan’s main power, besides the sweet claws and animal instincts, is what’s called a healing factor.  His healing process is accelerated to the point that any wound inflicted on him heals almost instantly.  To put it differently… his wounds do not affect him… healing is not an issue for him… he just keeps going.  I think that the way his character is portrayed both in the Origins movie and the X-Men movies shows that this is more significant than cuts and bruises, but concerns wounds that are not physical, but signify a place of brokenness in one’s life.  Let’s look at one scene in particular.

Logan has just escaped from the hands of William Stryker, the man who lined his skeleton with an indestructible metal known as Adamantium.  Now, Stryker has sent Agent Zero after him.  Logan pones Zero in a sweet helicopter vs. motorcycle battle (no big deal, happens everyday), and that’s where the conversation between Logan, Agent Zero and Stryker over the comm comes in.
There’s a few things to discuss in this scene.  First, consider how Zero mocks Logan: “It’s funny how good, innocent people tend to die around you,” referring most directly to the murder of Kayla, the woman he loved, and also to the sins of his past.  This is a classic image of the villain pressing on the wound of the hero.  Usually, the hero screams in pain, very humanly.  But, not Logan.  His wounds do not affect him.  He blows him up and walks away.  Now, we presume that Zero only knows about the death of Kayla and the work he and Logan did together.  But, this wound (good people always seem to die around you) goes much deeper.  It goes all the way back to his father.  But, Logan does not let it affect him.  He just keeps going.  It’s a powerful image.  But, I hope that it does more than stir our emotions or give us eye candy.  I hope that something in us is intrigued, because, on some level, we want to live that way, but we know we’re made for so much more.  We’re made to  be whole, which demands that we confront our wounds and be healed.

       The starting point for me in preparing this presentation was the thought that, perhaps on some level, we want this healing factor.  We would rather just keep going.  It’s easier than believing that healing requires time, patience, courage, and strength.  It’s easier than believing that healing requires that we be real men.  Remember, our wounds go deeper than blood.  Logan’s went to his father.  We see this in the beginning of the movie.  After the death of his father, his brother convinces him, to put it simply, to just keep going.  Remember Victor’s words:  “You have to be hard now… hard so nothing can ever touch us.”

       I’d like to recall our attention to a C.S. Lewis quote from The Four Loves:  “To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.  The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation.  The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”  Again, I think of how powerful the opening sequence of Wolverine is.  The wound is dealt (at the death of his father) and then you see, over a span of hundreds of years, just how long he has developed this pattern of his wounds not affecting him.  He just keeps going… until it catches up to him.

       Let’s take a look at this quote by Pope Benedict, about the words of St. Thomas concerning the wounds of Christ ("unless I place my finger in His hand and my hand in His side…"):  “From these words emerges the conviction that Jesus can now be recognized by His wounds rather than by His face.  Thomas holds that the signs that confirm Jesus’ identity are now above all His wounds, in which He reveals to us how much He loved us.  In this the Apostle is not mistaken.” Thomas encountered the glorified wounds of Christ.  I love the famous image of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio, as uncomfortable as it is, there’s something about the way Thomas, and even the others appear to be gazing inside the wound.  It reminds me of a personal reflection I have had on this passage as an invitation to place my hand inside the wound to see how deep it goes.  Brothers, our wounds go deeper than we know and our wounds too are meant to be glorified, by the power of His Resurrection.  Having been to the cross, we must show forth the triumph of Christ.  So, we must confront our wounds in order that they may be healed.  We cannot cower from them.

       Returning to our friend Logan, the Origins movie ends with his memory being wiped.  He cannot confront his wounds because he no longer knows what they are.  In the X-Men movies, which follow chronologically, his desire to remember in a sense defines his character.  He’s constantly trying to discover where he comes from.  He accepts the help of Professor X.  He goes on a long journey to Alkali Lake in hopes to find out (between the first and second movies).  Finally, the offer of memory and knowledge of his past is precisely the weapon which Stryker uses in X-Men 2 to try to draw Logan back under his power.  But, the interesting thing is, this is precisely the opposite of his approach in the Origins film, before Logan’s memory is wiped.

       Stryker is continually telling Wolverine he doesn’t want to know.  Consider the clip we already discussed.  It began with Stryker telling Logan, “If you go down this road, you won’t like what you’ll find.”  Here, Stryker gives us a very insightful reflection of the Father of Lies.  “You don’t want to know the depths of your wounds.  You won’t like what you’ll find.  Come down off your cross, Christ.”  It seems to me that the Voice of Truth would rather say: confront your wounds, see how deep they go, and take them to the cross of Christ.  Consider the scene when Logan receives the Adamantium.  What does Stryker say that sends Wolverine into a rage?  “Erase his memory.”  I would argue that it is Logan’s manhood, or even more simply his humanity, that rages against this utter denial of his humanity, to deliberately take from him the knowledge of who he is and where he’s been.  It sheds light on those haunting words of Stryker before Logan is lowered into the tank: “Become the animal.”  We are not animals.  We are men.

       We need to mention the importance of Victor.  Victor also has the healing factor.  But, he uses it for evil, inflicts wounds on others, even seeks ever greater power for himself.  We look at Victor and then we turn and look at the conflict in Logan and we want to believe.  We wonder.  Can he be the other?  Can this power be life-giving, rather than self-serving?  Can he begin to become an expert in healing, rather than simply a man who can do whatever he wants because his wounds do not affect him?  Can he be a hero?  What I love about Logan’s role in the X-Men films is that we see this begin to start happening.  Two images from the X-Men films I’d like to call to our attention.

       First, in the first X-men film, there is a powerful scene with him and Rogue.  Rogue’s power, for anyone who does not know, is that anyone she touches, she absorbs their life energy, which for mutants includes their powers.  In the scene, Wolverine is being haunted, if you will, by a dream of his past, which he does not remember or understand.  He is being assailed by his wounds.  Rogue enters the scene.  She is a beautifully vulnerable little-sister figure to Logan.  In a very real way, she teaches him to be vulnerable.  She enters the scene and tries to wake him from his nightmare.  In a semi-conscious rage, he thrusts his claws into her just above the breast.  She places her hand on the side of his face, absorbing his powers, and she is healed.  Out of his own wounds, Logan still wounds, but he is able to give the power of healing to another.  Granted, he does not choose to do this.  But, consider the question, ‘is it possible for this power to be life-giving, rather than self-serving.’ This scene seems to anticipate the question and offer some hope that this is possible.  I think it can be said even that Logan himself begins to believe this is possible.  This belief begins to take action, at the end of the film, when he does choose to make his healing power a gift.  Fearing that she is already dead, that hope returns to him and he places his hand on her face.  She is healed and he almost loses his life in the process.

The second image is from the end of the second film.  Notice that, in the Origins movie, he’s always seeking to do things on his own.  You see him working with other mutants, but only to the extant that the other is useful to him.  Isolation is one of the worst things for a wound.  However, his time with the X-Men begins to open him up to real relationship.  By the end of X-Men 2, Wolverine finds himself having to choose between staying with his friends or going with the one who claims to be able to tell him who he is.  Stryker asks him, “Who has the answers, Wolverine… those people?”  And, taking a young mutant into his arms he says, “I’ll take my chances with him.”  The image of him carrying the child in his arms is very potent.  Within the broader context of the film, it appears that he’s growing into the role of a kind of fatherhood.

But, I think the movement out of isolation is perhaps the most important element of the growth in Wolverine’s character throughout the X-Men Trilogy.  It’s also present in the Origins film, when he journeys down the road that Stryker tells him not to, he finds great pain, but also that he is not alone in his wounds.  On the island, he finds others who are enslaved by the same power as him and is able to help set them free.  But, after the memory loss, he is thrust back into isolation.  In my opinion, despite heroic moments and definite good in him, the Wolverine of the Origins film is not a hero, in the sense that we can admire him.  But, we can suffer with him.

My main point is this: fallen humanity identifies with wounds and Wolverine offers us an interesting reflection on the relationship between a man and his wounds.  But, it is not the Logan of the Origins film that ought to be our model.  Rather, it is the later Wolverine, who has begun to make his power of healing a gift, to move out of isolation, and to enter into real relationship, who ought to be our hero.  The reason I find this to be relevant to all of us is simple:  the Bride of Christ needs us to be men.  She needs us to confront our wounds, to take them to the cross of Christ, and become experts in healing, in order that the healing power of Christ may flow from us as we grow out of isolation into the role of father.  St. Thomas, Apostle of Great Faith, pray for us!



<<< Previous Thoughts on X-Men

Unlikely Fathers and Friendly Neighborhood Heroes: "Surrogate Fathers" and "With Great Power..." Continued

       Last month, I posted an old reflection on the role of the "surrogate father" figure in hero origin stories, and I promised a continuation.  Meanwhile, last summer, in preparation for the debut of the newest big-screen incarnation of Spider-Man, I shared my thoughts on the central moral of the character, the degree to which the past movies have effectively captured it, and my hopes for this current effort.  It seemed fitting to follow-up with sharing some observations regarding the current depiction of the character in both Captain America: Civil War and the brand new Spider-Man: Homecoming.  Well, it seems that these two follow-ups were meant to converge, as hopefully will become clear by the time I reach the intersection point.

       First of all, let us conclude the journey of the "surrogate father" figure.  Now, we have already established the role of this surrogate father character, upon whom the origin story quite often hinges.  The Surrogate Father is with the hero at a key point in the hero's growth, teaches a valuable lesson, which becomes a paradigm for both the character and the story itself and finally his death usually occasions a turning point and awakening of the hero.  We also established that considering his role in the story helps us to appreciate, not only his own role, but it points directly toward the hero, whose rise is the very purpose of both his teaching and his sacrifice.  So, the next step is to consider further the task and the goal of the hero.

So now, to take it to a new level, I would like to mention a final example, from a very different genre, but where I noticed this very same formula, namely the 2002 film version of The Count of Monte Cristo.  Following the formula almost to a “T”, the character of Abbe Faria, intriguingly called in the movie simply ‘priest,’ plays the role of the surrogate father, who teaches the hero, Edmond Dantes, the lessons – and also equips him with resources – that enable him to become The Count of Monte Cristo, and then lays down his life so that Edmond can escape.  This dialogue might be said to sum up his lesson: Priest: “Do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence.  God said ‘Vengeance is Mine.’”  Dantes: “I do not believe in God.” Priest: “It does not matter.  He believes in you.”  But, the reason this example is significant is that the hero’s long transformation, after overcoming a great deal of brokenness and obsession with revenge, finally reaches its culmination, when the hero himself becomes… a father.  Now, naturally, in the book, not only is there a far more complex, intricate and interesting plot-line, but this point comes home differently.  In the movie, Edmond’s fatherhood is due to a biological son, conceived out of wedlock.  In the book, Edmond is never said to be the biological father – in fact, there is a great line in the early chapters, when another character describes Mercedes by saying that there is often not much difference between a fiancé and a mistress, and Edmond resolutely responds, “Not for me, sir.”  Rather, after a long trial of overcoming his obsession with vengeance, Edmond becomes more a mentor and sort of surrogate father to her son, and another young character or two in the book.

So, what is the point?

It points us toward the ultimate goal of the hero: The hero, too, is to become a father.  He is to be life-giving, like his (surrogate) father before him.  An essential part of fatherhood is to be for the child, preparing them to father/mother a new generation... and so, the Ancient Story: Salvation History goes on.  Each hero and each surrogate father is to recognize that they are a part of something so much bigger than themselves.  And likewise, we must recognize that we are part of something so much bigger than ourselves. Sometimes this happens before he is really ready.  Yet, how ready can one really expect to be, for so great a responsibility?

So, why is this a relevant starting point for the follow-up to the commentary on the different variations of the Spider-Man story and his central moral?  Well, one of the most interesting aspects about the current MCU version of the character is the way he is introduced from the perspective of a VERY different mentor/quasi-father figure (who was one of the rising heroes of the original "Surrogate Fathers" reflection, shared last month): Tony Stark.  He is quite an incomplete hero, to say the least.  In fact, his most recent appearances in movies find him so broken by his own vices and scarred by past experiences, that he almost seems to play the part of the villain.  But, it was always my hope to comment on how well the current version is doing in capturing that central moral.  Well, it seems that the description of the moral - when Stark asks Parker why he's doing this and what's his M.O. - is as much a reflection on Stark as it is on Parker.  I'll come back to that point.

It started back in Iron Man 3, that we began to see Stark shifting roles to mentor a representative of what could be the next generation of heroes.  Admittedly, it was not the best example and he passed on at least as many of his vices as virtues.  Furthermore, it began strictly as a relationship of utility - not unlike his enlisting Parker in Civil War.  But, in both cases, we begin to see at least seeds of something more.

We also see his growing desire to influence the next generation in his granting funding indiscriminately to a host of young innovators at the beginning of Civil War.  What I have found so fascinating about this odd little part in the movie - and I've always wondered about what the intentions of the film makers might have actually been - is how he is here practicing the exact same reckless and dangerous granting of power without accountability that he quickly begins criticizing the whole rest of the movie - and in a way that is perhaps more relevant to the real life societal concerns of moviegoers, at least the attentive and thoughtful ones anyway.  Ironically, with Spider-Man's central moral - "With great power comes great responsibility" - in mind, he is granting great power with very little thought of responsibility.  When you then consider how this reflects the central conflict that the movie focuses on, it becomes clear how the controversy over accountability and oversight is precisely a concern for the great responsibility that is called for by great power.  In this way, this movie becomes the perfect time to first introduce a brand new incarnation of Spider-Man (I might have been happier if his role in the movie was a little greater, but alas) - because the story was essentially one grand reflection on his central moral, but from a quite different perspective.  

But, then we come to the moment when that moral is finally expressed in Civil War.  Admittedly, after I saw how Parker explains his motivation and gave it some thought, my initial reaction was one of disappointment.  At that point, it really does fall short in the same way as the Andrew Garfield version (explained here).  However, it benefits for a few reasons from its context.  First of all, we are hearing it from the mouth of Parker himself (not from Uncle Ben or some other mentor figure, from whom he may have learned it), who is portrayed as being very young and still having a lot to learn.  He is portrayed almost as a scared child.  This is the lesson as he is currently able to process it and there is great potential for them to portray him learning the more complete lesson overtime.  And since they are doing so - prudently - without rehashing his origin story for a third time, I think they could do this very satisfyingly without ever showing or telling what Uncle Ben may or may not have actually said to him (presuming this version does involve Uncle Ben, and frankly I would rather have had just a bit more indication that he did exist in the backstory and was important to Peter).  

Even more significant, however, is the thoughtful look Stark gives in hearing him explain his moral, intentionally shown to us on camera.  The inclusion of that description of Parker's own understanding of his moral is every bit as much about how it relates to Tony as it is about characterizing Parker.  The problem is it makes sense from the perspective of the young Parker with so much still to learn.  Unfortunately, his mentor here is a man whose failure to mature beyond this understanding is precisely what has become his downfall on multiple occasions.  

Maturity sees the difference between the great responsibility that comes with great power and a messiah complex.  Stark does not.  And Parker is not there yet either, but this makes more sense given his youth.  Iron Man 3 was essentially all about Tony trying to overcome his own fear and obsession, as he is plagued by PTSD, after the "Battle of New York" (The Avengers).  Just when it seems that his love of Pepper was capable of enabling him to overcome, S.H.I.E.L.D. falls, and the Avengers reassemble to clean up the remnants of Hydra and find Loki's scepter.  When he finds it, Wanda gives him this vision that he is convinced is the future and its message is simple: everybody dies because Stark didn't do enough to save them.  Thus, his fear and obsession next lead him to create Ultron, the villain who is the real reason he is in need of being kept in check (by the way, I think Civil War would have been a much stronger movie if it would have indicated this as one of the larger factors in the controversy surrounding the accords).  Then, that same fear and obsession, aggravated by guilt and shame cause him to be manipulated into tearing the Avengers apart with the accords (not trying to oversimplify the controversy - check this out if you want a deeper reflection on the brother vs brother dynamic).  When we hear Peter Parker explaining his motivation we get the sense that this is a young man who has seen a great deal of tragedy in a short time and is struggling beneath some of the same sort of inner turmoil: "When you can do the things I can do and you don't, and then bad stuff happens, it happens because of you."  It is as if Peter Parker is being recreated in Tony Stark's image.  This starts to seem even more true with the significant role of Stark (and his tech) in Homecoming.  Furthermore, we will see the reflection of this problem, as he is anxious about feeling like he "can do so much more," only to come full circle with a lesson of humility, resulting in his "coming home" to his original role as the "friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

So, what is the difference between the responsibility that power demands and a messiah complex?  In one word: Narcissism.  When we allow our guilt and shame over not doing enough to grow into fear and obsession, we make it all about us.  We honestly start to think that the weight of saving the world is on our shoulders alone.  Parker is not at that point yet.  Perhaps seeing this young reflection of his own brokenness could enable Stark to move out of his own mess, as he seeks to rescue the youth from what has plagued him so much of his life.    

Responsibility, on the other hand, invites us to recognize that we are a part of something so much bigger than ourselves: the Ancient Story of Salvation History, which has gone on for generation after generation, the True Hero of which has already won the Victory.  When we recognize the power, the gifts, the talents that we have as making us a part of a larger design, we can put them at its service and write a fascinating and glorious new chapter in the Story.  The idea of rebooting the character in the midst of a well-developed universe of heroes and learning from more experienced Avengers right out the gate enables him to demonstrate this sense of being a part something greater.  Interestingly, his primary mentor is the one who still so desperately needs to learn those lessons himself.  But, it creates very interesting possibilities for future installments, especially as Peter starts to interact more with the others.

It is also interesting to note how this younger portrayal of Parker shows him as consistently seeking the affirmation of a father-figure, for which he looks to Stark.  We saw this first in Civil War.  But, in Homecoming, we see it expressed mostly in the form of frustration with feeling sidelined, culminating in the moment when he finally starts yelling at Stark about never listening and not even being there... only to learn that he is indeed there and has been listening.  This whole interaction leads to a lesson of how humility is a necessary foundation for establishing integrity: "If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it!"  This is a hopeful moment, as we begin to see Stark passing on to young Parker the lessons he has been learning the hard way.  This enables Parker to finally learn that lesson of humility, which is not the same as his original, "classic" moral, but is an important element of it.  Responsibility grows out of integrity, which grows out of humility.  All three require realizing it's not all about us.     

   
So, in summary, those of us who are fans of the 90's Spider-Man and its early 2000's film adaptations, who see the value in having his classic moral explicitly spelled out will have to simply reconcile with a portrayal of Spider-Man that includes little to no reference to Uncle Ben.  And that is certainly a loss.  However, there is still a lot of good that can come, and is coming from watching a younger Parker gradually learn the lessons that will help him to become the hero he ought to be, as he is thrust into an existing world of heroes.  And we are given an interesting dynamic by the fact that they have chosen to substitute in the character the MCU has put perhaps the most effort into characterizing as his surrogate father figure.  And because this broken father figure is the paradigm for ongoing conversion and his struggles so well parallel some of the lessons Parker needs to learn, the Tom Holland Spider-Man offers us a very interesting unfolding of his growth.  Perhaps the most important line in the movie summarizes this dynamic.  When Parker and Stark are arguing on the rooftop, Parker tells him, "I just wanted to be like you," and Stark quite fittingly replies, "And I wanted you to be better."  When we find ourselves in a position to influence others and potentially impact the person they grow to become, we must simply, humbly acknowledge our brokenness, be willing to pass on those lessons we continue to learn the hard way and even to hope for them a greater good than we have yet achieved on our own.   We must will their good, even over our own.  In short, we must love. 

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