The Inconvenience of Superman

A collection of Superman figures in their blue and red glory

NOTE: This contains some spoiler material for the new Superman film.

I’ve loved Superman for as long as I can remember. My mom once speculated that he stood in as a kind of surrogate father for me (since I never met my biological father). Maybe. What I do know is that I carried a Superman action figure (from Kenner’s famous Super Powers line) with me everywhere for several years in my early childhood and insisted on having a red cape attached to my shirts. I even wore a red cape when I learned to swim, convinced that the cape gave me the power to do so.

Superman III and the Fleischer cartoons were among my favorite Superman things at the time. I’ve seen pretty much every iteration of Superman that has been committed to film and, in my late-twenties to mid-thirties, was an avid comic book reader (my favorite has since become the Hal Jordan Green Lantern, especially Geoff Johns’ excellent run with the character, but I digress). I adored Henry Cavill’s iteration of Superman, even if the scripts of his films were iffy (I maintain that the first trailer for Man of Steel is the best cinematic depiction of Superman—I still want to see the movie hinted at by that trailer, because the one we got was… well, complicated). Which is all to say that James Gunn’s new Superman is, in my estimation, a great Superman film. At times it feels a little bloated, but the earnestness and bold embrace of the corny Silver-Age aspects of Superman—not to mention the lived-in feel of the new DC universe—make up for its short-comings. I mean, any film that is willing to give me a bowl-cut Guy Gardner that dismisses scores of tanks with glowing green middle fingers is one that earns high marks in my book.

But The Catechetic Converter is not here to be a film review site. We’re here to theologize on the “odd bit(s) of pop-culture.” And a film that features 30’s-inspired “Superman Robots,” Metamorpho as a serious character, a rambunctious space-dog wearing a cape, and Nathan Fillion playing a Green Lantern with all the arrogance of a dude unapologetically sporting a platinum bowl-cut is for sure an odd bit of pop-culture.

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Superman, as has been well-attested by now, was created by two Jewish kids during the Great Depression. Much ink has been shaped into words about the Jewish influence on Superman—even though he is canonically presented as a Methodist (the most Kansas of Christian denominations). Over the years, Superman has moved a bit from his more Golem-like characteristics and into a much more (Christian) messiah-like figure. This came to a particular apex with Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns (where Superman literally dies and rises again) and, much more explicitly, with Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel (where Superman takes on the shape of the corpus Christi as he descends to Earth, right after his invisible, alien—that is, “lives in the heavens”—father tells him to be humanity’s hope and salvation and inspire them to be their best). This, of course, has prompted controversy, even suggesting that this smacks of the sort of “supersessionism” that sees Christianity as a kind of replacement for Judaism—and therefore an appropriation and redefining of Jewish symbols for Christian ends.

James Gunn tones down the “mythology” on Superman. By which I mean his Superman is a much more “human” figure and not the mythic being advanced by Zack Snyder’s vision for the character. Yes, his Superman is a character that feels the weight of responsibility toward humanity. But this weight is not cast as some form of divine calling. Rather, it comes more from within. Clark is simply an earnest and kind person, gifted with incredible powers, and feels it is his obligation to use those powers to keep people safe and stand for justice. Nevertheless, this is a Superman of faith.

Clark, or in this case, Kal-El, is seen as someone who treats a message from his Kryptonian parents as a kind of scripture. But there’s a catch: the message is incomplete. What Clark has of the message he interprets as instructions to be a source of help to the people of Earth. He believes that he was sent to Earth not only for his survival, but to be an inspiration. And so he intervenes in international conflicts above his pay-grade and without the guidance or permission of government entities. He also takes time to rescue squirrels during giant monster rampages and laments when other “metahumans” kill that same giant monster with impunity (preferring instead to either take it somewhere safe or to euthanize it as painlessly as possible). But the rest of his Kryptonian parents’ message is hidden, a mystery.

In word, apocryphal.

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I don’t know if it was intentional, but there’s a sort of cheeky subversion of the “supersessionist” trope at play in Superman. For many who call themselves Christian, there’s an attitude that Jews live their life having only “half” the story. Given the Jewish roots of Superman, Clark defining his life based on only half of a message feels like a kind of “in-joke.” Of course, the film gives us the rest of the message and, rather than the “New Testament” of grace and mercy, we get a revelation of merciless autocratic rule, “be fruitful and multiply,” and “subdue the Earth”-type “Old Testament” messages (which, again, feels a bit like an intentional sub- or inversion of well-established religious tropes—the whole “Old vs. New Testament God” thing is a deeply antisemitic notion that goes far too frequently unchecked, a thing I discussed in a video I made not too long ago ).

It’s Lex Luthor who uncovers the rest of the message, using it as part of his long-game plan to destroy Superman. He goes on television to say that Superman’s altruism is all a ploy to groom humanity into trusting him so that he can eventually rule and exploit us.

The original title of this film was Superman: Legacy and the fingerprints of that title linger on the film we have. Superman sees himself as carrying the legacy of Krypton and his Kryptonian parents as he understands that legacy. Further, Luthor is convinced that humanity’s legacy will be lost to an alien in a bright costume. In the comics, this is often depicted as Luthor being either jealous of Superman’s popularity or incredulous that someone as powerful as Superman could be actually altruistic. But following some of the better depictions of Luthor in the comics (like Kingdom Come or Superman: Red Son), Gunn’s Luthor has a kind of deeply twisted sense of altruism. Killing Superman is not so much about feeding into Luthor’s ego for his ego’s sake. Rather, Luthor is convinced that killing Superman is crucial for humanity’s betterment, his ego making him think that he’s the only one able to actually do this. Luthor sees humanity as “human-kind,” a sort of depersonalized whole. Superman sees humanity as people.

Luthor can dehumanize individuals for the sake of “humanity” as a kind of abstraction. Superman, on the other hand, goes so far as to practically humanize a kaiju destroying the city. Both views are the result of conflicting interpretations of Superman’s “mission”—which, incidentally, is about interpreting humanity.

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The collection of writings we call the “Apocrypha” (or the “Deuterocanonical books”) have a complicated position in global Christianity. Basically, Protestants reject them as being “scripture” while everyone else views them as part of the Bible. Regardless, they provide key connective tissue between the Old and New Testaments, helping us in interpreting the messages of both.

The word “apocryphal” has come to mean “maybe-not-really-true,” owing to the influence of Protestant Christianity on the English language. There is a kind of mysteriousness to things that are “apocryphal.” In nerd-circles, “apocryphal” stories are treated more akin to midrash—stories that are wholly “out of canon,” but still contain accurate notes of what is canon and help to round out or “flesh out” aspects of canonical stories. Actual “apocrypha” is something dependent on interpretation. Apocrypha fills-in-the-gaps, but the canonical quality of Apocrypha is still a matter of discussion.

(As an aside: “Apocrypha” is the term preferred by Protestant Christians. “Deuterocanonical” is preferred by others because the canonicity of these books is not in question—it’s that their canonicity was recognized after-the-fact (the meaning of the “deuter” there). For what it’s worth, I tend to hold to the idea of these books being “Deuterocanonical”—at least some of them.)

This is why I say that the corrupted/missing half of Jor-El’s and Lara Lor-Van’s message to Superman is “apocryphal.” Even before it is recovered, it is both a “gap” and a source of Truth. Superman lives his life based on what he believes that message contains, hopeful that the corrupted half is a continuation of the part he knows. Luthor, on the other hand, treats this other half (once he discovers it) as a sort of gospel. It not only serves his purposes for getting rid of Superman, but he also allows it to confirm what he believes about Superman: that his existence is not in humanity’s best interest as he himself understands it.

And the film itself, perhaps unknowingly, manages to draw from the Apocrypha in ways that speak to all of this, while also better situating Superman in his Jewish roots—in a way that also better informs the Christian embrace of the character.

During the film’s denouement (apparently I’m now the sort of guy who uses a phrase like denouement), Luthor lays out explicitly why he wants to take down Superman. And it isn’t personal jealousy or some personal vendetta (in certain versions, Luthor’s baldness is caused by Superman, which inspires his hatred). No, Luthor exclaims:

I'm aware envy consumes my every waking moment. I know when they mention Galileo or Einstein or one of these other twits in the same breath as me, I feel a tide of vomit burn the back of my throat! But at least Galileo did something. He wasn't some dopey Venusian catapulted onto this planet just to have the world fawn over him! Because his strength illuminates how WEAK we all really are! So, my envy is a calling! It is the sole hope for humanity, because it is what has driven me to annihilating you!

Being the sort of nerd that I am, I immediately recalled the words of the Apocryphal book Wisdom of Solomon (also known as the Book of Wisdom):

Let us lie in wait for the righteous man, because he is inconvenient to us and opposes our actions; he reproaches us for sins against the law, and accuses us of sins against our training.

He professes to have knowledge of God, and calls himself a child of the Lord.

He became to us a reproof of our thoughts; the very sight of him is a burden to us, because his manner of life is unlike that of others, and his ways are strange.

We are considered by him as something base, and he avoids our ways as unclean; he calls the last end of the righteous happy, and boasts that God is his father. (Wisdom 2:12-16, NRSV)

This is a Jewish book, written in Greek, and speaks of the sort of envy that is elicited whenever people living with a sort of status-quo, banal sort of evil are confronted by someone who is genuinely wise and good. Given that the book of Wisdom was likely written as a kind instruction manual for young, ruling-class men, these words are presented as a kind of caution. “Be prepared,” it seems to say, “that when you choose to be good and wise, the wicked of the world will come after you to stifle you.” This is because wisdom and goodness exposes the wickedness of the status quo and this unsettles those who are both accustomed to and benefit from such things. Very early on, Christians embraced this passage as a prophecy about Jesus, He being the “righteous man” who needs to be killed because His goodness is of such a quality as to be “strange” (that is, “alien”), and reveals through stark relief how “base” and sinful the lives of people can be—particularly those who are in positions of power and authority.

Luthor chooses to kill Superman for the same reasons. His earnestness and goodness, his treating of humanity as people and not an abstraction, stands in stark contrast to Luthor’s own arrogance and abstraction of humanity—both as a whole and for himself (because, remember, dehumanization cuts two ways).

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Christians and Jews both agree that the Messiah is meant to be a figure that embodies/represents God’s chosen people as a whole. The word “Messiah” (Hebrew equivalent to “Christ”) means “chosen.” Israel is presented as God’s “chosen.” Christians, as Saint Paul laboriously argues, are grafted onto Israel, sharing in their story. Which means that there is a messianic quality to the life we all live. We are to live as God’s chosen—for us Christians, this is informed by Jesus and His life.

But this life is fraught. It exposes the wickedness and moral shortcomings (weaknesses) of the world—including our own. This often results in violent backlash. Some of us don’t like being reminded that we fail and need repentance and forgiveness. Such Truth, such Justice is inconvenient—especially to the American Way, it seems these days.

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Superman is an apocryphal story about apocryphal truth. In keeping with the character’s Jewish roots, he is a man on a mission to embody humanity’s best qualities. And in our world, those qualities seem downright alien.


The Rev. Charles Browning II is the rector of Saint Mary’s Episcopal Church in Honolulu, Hawai’i. He is a husband, father, surfer, and frequent over-thinker. Follow him on Mastodon and Pixelfed.