It’s summertime already—at least as far as the movie studios are concerned—and that means one thing these days: superheroes. It officially started three weeks ago when The Avengers stormed into theaters (and refused to leave). The Amazing Spider-Man reboots that franchise on July 3 and, two weeks later, The Dark Knight Rises will cast its long shadow across the entertainment landscape.
We’ve written review after review after blog post after article about these supersaviors over the years, and there seems to be no end to the lessons and extrapolations that can come from them. The superhero genre is as deep as it is violent, it seems, and getting more and more complex as the years go by. That’s why I want to introduce you to a book you might find interesting—a book written by one of our very own reviewers.
Published by Tyndale, it’s called God on the Streets of Gotham: What the Big Screen Batman Can Teach Us About God and Ourselves. Paul Asay, our resident superhero superscribe, penned it. Why? Well, the real question is, Why not? As you can read for yourself in his 2008 article “A Super Look at Superheroes” and its Family Room adaptation “Defenders of Truth Always Look a Little Different,” Paul has always had a particular affinity for the Dark Knight.
I’ve read every word of the book, having helped edit it in its early stages, so I can confidently tell you that its insights are both intellectually fascinating and spiritually practical. Paul often talks about seeing “God’s fingerprints” on the stories we read, hear and watch. And he clearly outlines them in the book.
So go find your own old superhero cape you used to play with when you were a kid and settle in for some fun … and some insight.
Here in the introduction, Paul tackles the big question of, Why Batman? Film director Christopher Nolan’s depiction of the hero is dark and gritty and full of some pretty serious content—not something Plugged In would give any sort of unreserved thumbs-up to. And even if you skip the movies, Batman can still come across as pretty grim at times.
So … Why Batman?
*****
In my gig, I’m always called to be mindful of Philippians 4:8, which tells us all to concentrate on “what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable.” And while you could make an argument that Batman can often be noble and right and admirable, he also can be brutal and angry and not very admirable at all. And when you throw in the death-by-pencil stuff in The Dark Knight, the modern incarnation of the Batman universe simply doesn’t feel very Philippians-like.
So if you’re reading this right now and questioning what business I have taking a dark, secular superhero and turning him into a Christian role model, let me stress that I get your concerns. I’ve thought through them and wrestled with them and prayed about them more than was strictly helpful.
And I’ve set them, gently and respectfully, aside.
Here’s why.
I believe we can find evidence of God everywhere. We are his creation, after all, and who we are and what we do cannot help but carry his mark. From the loftiest mountain to the lowliest weed, everything around us bears his autograph. And as we are God’s most marvelous achievement, made in his own image, we’re inherently beautiful. We can’t help it. And so when we, in turn, create something—a mimicry of God’s own awesome act of creation—a bit of God’s life and love filters into what we mold and make, regardless of our intent.
Now, there’s a flip side to this. Just as we all trace our lineage to the mind of the Almighty, our creations are marred by the fallen world in which we live. Just as the spark of the divine is in everything, so is the taint of sin. As such, our most beautiful, our most holy of constructs are not free of the world’s sour corruption, the mark of the fall. Nothing escapes it. Nothing in this world is above it.
Which makes Gotham City, the world of Batman, so illustrative in many ways of our own failed and fallen realm. Gotham’s a dark place, full of shadow, corruption, and bad intentions. It’s not pure or pretty, and none of the people in it are free of sin’s taint. And yet underneath the grime and graffiti and dark forbode, there’s goodness, too. There are those who believe there’s a spark worth preserving in this desperate city. There are those who see the beauty underneath. They see the spirit of the city and believe it’s still possible, somehow, to redeem it.
Even the stained world of Gotham still contains moments of nobility, purity, and loveliness. We can admire the admirable here; we can celebrate what’s right. We can concentrate on those aspects within the city’s gritty confines and perhaps uncover a spark of the divine in superherodom’s gloomiest character. We won’t find a substitute for Jesus, but we may find a servant—even if he doesn’t fully understand it and might not always act like it.
I hope to show that Batman followed something of a sacred call, even if he didn’t know exactly where that call came from. He found a special purpose, even if he didn’t know who placed that purpose in front of him. He’ll teach us a bit about goodness and God and our own conflicting natures, becoming an unwitting spiritual instructor. I believe we’re all a little like Batman, trying to find our way in a messed-up reality and yet knowing, deep in our being, that Someone thinks we’re special and that we can be special. Even as we plow through our very normal, non-superhero lives, we’re all called for a purpose we can hardly imagine.
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