Jesus = Superman

We have a tendency as American Christians to reconcile Jesus with the truest notions we have of our superheroes. In our spiritual mind’s eye, we equate Jesus with Superman and imagine that both can fly, do tricks, get us out of sticky situations, and make everything all right by the end of the day.

This past Sunday I was reminded that Jesus was definitely not Superman. In Matthew 14, we read of the worst day in the life of Jesus (other than his crucifixion). He learns that his best friend and cousin, John the Baptist, has been murdered. Wanting to be alone, he heads out on a boat by himself, but the minute he gets back to land, the crowds swarm him. He heals some. Then, he has to feed all of them. Then he has to calm the water and the waves - all after he learns of John’s death. And it probably dawns on him that he, too, will die a violent political death.

I don’t know at what point we started wanting Jesus to be Superman. My guess is that it has very little to do with his ability to make the blind see, foretell the future, or stop a storm as if it were a speeding train. I think that our mathematics of Jesus = Superman has much more to do with our desire for domination, superiority and the drive to maintain both once we've gotten there.

Having thought a lot recently about our version of Christianity and that of the first Christians, the contextual and societal differences are clear, but what is blurry is the notion of power. As twenty-first century American Christians, we have it. First century Palestinian Christ-followers did not. I wonder whether or not they wanted to be in the ruling majority. Jesus was quite clear that his revolution would not be one of bloodshed and war. His revolution started with service, was comprised of the least of these, and ended with the importance of losing your life. Therefore, it is hard for me to equate Jesus with Superman and leaves me wondering if we in the Christian west are missing the point.

Christians on TV clamor for attention, privilege and influence. Some Christians try and fight a war on Christmas and chain themselves to monuments of the Ten Commandments. Thinking that a white, virile Jesus would do the same, these Christians seek to restore their idea of what Christianity should be all about. But, when I look at the Gospels and see a man who wants to be alone to mourn his friend’s death and who cries to start what we now call Holy Week, I don’t see Superman. I see a man – a man whose death would mean almost more than his life. I don’t see a man I am drawn to because he could fly, see through walls, leap tall buildings, feed five thousand, heal the lame, raise the dead, or calm a stormy sea. The man I am drawn to washes feet, gets tired, patiently explains the Realm of God to slow-learning disciples, takes the time to speak with those he shouldn’t, and tells stories that force us to reexamine our stereotypes and what we think is true.

For me, Jesus is no Superman, and I thank God for that. We have enough guys running around in their underwear as it is.