Never-ending
"You'll believe a man can fly."
That was the slogan when Christopher Reeve first donned the red cape for the 1978 film Superman. And when we think about the very first superhero--who celebrated his 80th birthday with yesterday's Action Comics #1000--it is his superpowers that immediately leap to mind. Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound (back in 1938, the slogan actually would have been "You'll believe a man can jump really far and high").
Superman is a character that has been incredibly important to me for the vast majority of my life. I have a strong emotional connection to the character. And it's not about being strong or fast or even saving the day. Those things are cool and I doubt the adventures of a normal guy would have caught my childhood attention as well as those of the Man of Steel. But if there was a Superman slogan that was targeted specifically at me, it would be something different.
"You'll believe a man can be good."
The goodness is probably what first drew me to Superman when most of other kids my age were getting into Batman, the X-Men, and Spider-man. I think others saw me as a bit of a goody-two-shoes and for kids that is an unfortunately weird badge of shame. So in Clark Kent, I saw someone who was not only good, but his goodness was celebrated. When the Man of Steel was killed in the first comics my dad brought home (like many, he hoped they would become valuable collector's items), the story that unfolded showed the deep void that appeared in the world when this hero was lost. So it is probably true that part of what drew me to Superman was wish-fulfillment. But I didn't want to fly. I wanted to be affirmed for wanting to good.
I write that and it sounds kind of sad and maybe a little self-centered. But that perspective of wanting affirmation has changed. I see myself less as someone who is good than as someone who is trying to do good and often fails.
I collected Superman comics through middle school and high school, but pretty much stopped once I had gotten to college. I still loved the character and would still ardently defend him to anyone who said that he was lame and boring.
But it wasn't until I became a father that I began to regularly read his adventures again. For almost eight years now, my gravest concern has been raising my sons to choose love, compassion, and goodness in a world where that often seems in short supply. I got into adulthood and became fairly disillusioned with various institutions as I discovered that the good guys aren't always that good. I came back because I needed a touchstone. Superman has become a beacon of sorts as I try to be a good person and raise good people. He strives for what is right. He sometimes fails. He sometimes doesn't know what to do. But he always tries.
Comic writers for the last several decades have been trying to square Clark's moral compass with an increasingly morally complicated world. And so even though it is fiction, there are scores of real people behind the stories struggling with questions of how one chooses goodness when it is difficult to know what is right. Even though I'm not facing down intergalactic androids or backwards-talking clones or egomaniacal multi-millionaires (okay, that last one hits a little more close to home), I feel like I can learn something or at least be inspired.
That's why I keep coming back. There are many things in this world that remind me to pursue goodness--family and friends, the life of Jesus and the saints--and that's good because I need all the help I can get. The pursuit of truth and justice is a never-ending battle and we often can get discouraged. And that's why I am so grateful to this superhero that I discovered when I was child. He helps me believe that a man can be good.
Note: The image above is drawn by Pat Gleason. He and Peter J. Tomasi have been the writers on Superman for the past two years. Among other adventures, they have told the story of Clark trying to navigate being Superman while also being a loving husband to Lois Lane and teaching their pre-teen son Jonathan how to be a hero as his own superpowers begin to manifest themselves. As a husband, dad, and someone who works with youth, it has been my jam.