Review by Kevin Miller.

One of the great joys of searching for truth in unlikely
places is that every once in a while you turn up a gem. Having already read and
reviewed two “okay” books—Who Needs a Superhero? and Comic Book
Character
—that sought to extract spiritual insights from the world of comic
books, I had pretty much given up on finding anything substantial on the topic.
Then someone handed me a copy of Holy Superheroes! by Greg Garrett,
co-author of The Gospel Reloaded.

The book sat on my desk for about a month before I finally
picked it up, certain it was going to be “more of the same.” But twenty-six
pages in, I began to suspect I had finally hit the jackpot. As it turns out,
the world of books is not much different than the world of superheroes: Things
are not always as they seem. Just as Lois Lane had no idea that behind Clark
Kent’s mild-mannered visage lurked the greatest superhero of all time, I had no
idea that Holy Superheroes! would turn out to be not just a great book
about the spirituality of comic books. Strange as it may sound, Holy
Superheroes!
also turned out to be one of the most insightful books I have
read on any topic in a long time.

Perhaps part of the appeal for me was that Holy
Superheroes!
also turned out to be the right book at the right time. The
day before I read it, I had written a lengthy reflection on the film Kingdom
of Heaven,
wherein I discussed the futility of responding to violence with
more violence. Seeing as taking such a stance has left me bruised and battered
at the hands of my fellow believers in the past, I was feeling somewhat
apprehensive, like a disobedient child waiting anxiously for his father to
return home from work, not sure if he was going to be swatted or not. However,
rather than upbraid me for my audacity, Holy Superheroes! actually
affirmed and expanded upon what I had written—pretty surprising considering
superhero comics are some of the most violent forms of entertainment around.
Lest you think I only liked this book because it agrees with me though, let me
share a few other things Holy Superheroes! has going for it.

What Garrett attempts in this book is a “philosophical
reading” of comic books, a study of comics to see if they can offer wisdom on
how to live our lives. Why comic books? Because they and the superheroes that
populate them have become the primary mythology of our society, Garrett says.
Even though not all of us read comics, we all know the stories and characters.
Our society has chosen reason and empirical data as its primary source of
truth, but the power of myth cannot be ignored. And if we do ignore it, it is
to our peril. As Garrett says in the foreword, “We’ve gotten in the bad habit
of thinking of myth as something false, or at best, untrue—like those old Greek
gods and snake-headed monsters—rather than something that is supremely true;
we’ve made the mistake of thinking that myth is untrue because it can’t be
proven, rather than something that is supremely true because it’s a story that
has to be accepted.”

Even though we have turned our back on myth, a part of us
keeps reaching out for something to fill the gap that reason has left behind.
Where this need used to be satisfied by reading the lives of saints, apostles,
and other heroes of the faith, we now read about men and women who have secret
identities and run around in skin-tight costumes doing battle with the forces
of evil. These are the stories that move us, Garrett says, “the ones we most
need to hear to be whole.” How and why these stories lead us closer to the sacred
and inspire us in our own quest to do good is the main subject of this book.

Garrett starts by looking at the connection between comics
and religion. In this chapter, he shows how comics are really the latest
manifestation of the “American monomyth,” which goes something like this: “A
community in a harmonious paradise is threatened by evil; normal institutions
fail to contend with this thread; a selfless hero emerges to renounce
temptations and carry out the redemptive task; aided by fate, his decisive
victory restores the community to its paradisiacal condition; the superhero
then recedes into obscurity.” He goes on to show how the American monomyth is
actually a retelling of the Judeo-Christian story of redemption, a.k.a “the
gospel.” Thus, Garrett argues, superhero comics are to be taken seriously, “as
seriously as we ought to take every kind of storytelling,” because they can
teach us about what it means to be human. Comic books can actually change our
lives, for good or ill. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to poke fun
at the comic store owner on The Simpsons. Perhaps those seemingly
trivial distinctions between Captain Kirk and Captain Picard are more important
than you think.

Garrett moves on to discuss our need for heroes and the archetypal
shape of the hero’s journey, as it is replicated across time, culture, and
religion. The ongoing appeal of superhero stories, Garrett says, is that they
are merely the most recent manifestation of this archetype, which seems to be
hardwired into our systems. At the same time, he warns that even though these
stories may tap into archetypal figures—such as Christ—we should not mistake
metaphor for reality. Thus, while we can notice correspondences between Christ
and Superman, for example, we should not seek to equate the two. Instead, we
should merely ask how these correspondences can instruct and inspire us.

After these introductory chapters, Garrett turns his
attention to a number of topics that are front and center in the world of
superheroes. First up is the relationship between power and responsibility, a
link made clear through the life of Spiderman in particular. Garrett concludes
his study by pointing out how even though we aren’t superheroes; we all have
power—especially those of us wealthy enough to afford such luxury items as
comic books. The question is, are we using our power responsibly?

Truth is the next topic of discussion. Why Garrett failed to
bring in Wonder Woman’s magic lasso I’m not sure (her lasso forced whoever was
caught in it to tell the truth), but his discussion still bears much fruit.
Most notably, he talks about the danger of certainty. “Oftentimes surety can be
more dangerous than any enemy you face,” says Garrett. Shocking words, no
doubt, for those who still believe in such things as "evidence that
demands a verdict." By way of example, he talks about the Nazis and the
Japanese militarists of World War II. Both groups were certain that what they
believed was right—and the entire world is still trying to recover from the outcome
of those beliefs. He shows how certainty inevitably leads to fundamentalism,
which, if not checked, leads to holy war in defense of one’s doctrine or
beliefs. Truth is far more complex than fundamentalists of any stripe would
have us believe, argues Garrett, and our world would be a much safer place if
more of us woke up to that fact.

From truth, Garrett turns to justice. In this section, he
seeks to expand our definition of justice beyond retribution. While retribution
may bring a temporary halt to crime or some other social problem, it fails to
deal with the root causes of evil, and it offers no vision of the just society.
Using Batman as a model of retributive justice, Garrett describes the price of
going down such a path: “Batman’s success as a crime-fighter has come at the
expense of his success as a well-rounded human being.” Instead of
conceptualizing justice as punishment, a response to a negative action, far
better, says Garrett, to adopt the view of the ancient Hebrews, who saw justice
as, “an ongoing movement toward equal opportunities for all people, and support
for the less privileged, aged, or infirm.”

Garrett’s take on patriotism is perhaps the most subversive
section of this book. He describes the concept of “benevolent fascism,” which
dominates superhero stories, saying, “The traditional superhero myth suggests
that power in one set of capable hands is the surest way to achieve justice,
that democratic systems can’t be trusted to perform their tasks alone, that
anyway, the hero would never take advantage of those he serves, and that that
the world requires American superheroism.” Sounds like something you might see
scrawled on the bathroom wall at CIA headquarters—or on the doorplate to the
Oval Office. Garrett goes on to offer a critique of American foreign policy,
chastising the government and the American people in general for being so
narrow-minded as to believe that Americans have a monopoly on truth and
justice, that America is not only the last of the superpowers, it is also the
most heroic. “Unquestioning acceptance of a truth—any truth—is dangerous,” says
Garrett. He urges people not to swallow everything they’re told by the
government, even it if means they are branded as unpatriotic or disloyal.

From here, Garrett moves on to only slightly less
controversial ground by confronting the problem of evil. He considers what role
evil plays in God’s redemptive story, where evil comes from, and how all of us
share responsibility for the “evil that men do.” But Garrett doesn’t abandon us
to the Dark Side. He also offers a way out, showing that all religious faiths
agree that the only way to overcome evil is through unselfishness, compassion,
and love.

As an addendum to his discussion of benevolent or “pop
fascism,” Garrett also weighs in on vigilantism. After all, virtually every
superhero is a vigilante on some level, because they take the law into their
own hands. In this sense, heroes are often seen as outlaws as well, as the
Batman knows all too well. One of the main reasons for this blurring of lines,
Garrett points out, is that vigilantism involves a blend of “extralegal
violence and personal vengeance.” Thus, vigilante justice is rarely selfless
and, hence, open to suspicion. After all, if the heroes are using the same
methods as the villains and are motivated by the same feelings of anger and
retribution, are they really all that different? As Garrett says in relation to
an incident from Alan Moore’s quintessential 1980s classic, The Watchmen,
“If you have to stop being a hero to accomplish your ends, then maybe they’re
not worth accomplishing.” Or, to put it in terms of Kingdom of Heaven, if you
feel tempted to commit a little bit of evil for the sake of the greater good,
perhaps you should reconsider whether that “good” really is all that great.

Delving deeper into the root cause of evil, Garrett turns to
superheroes like the Incredible Hulk, Wolverine, and Batman to show how the war
against evil may often be a symbolic war against the self. He also wonders
about our tendency to fear those who are not like us. “Is it part of our nature
to try to destroy people who are different from us?” Garrett wonders. “How can
we be aware of these feelings and stop genocide from happening again on such a
grand scale?” He believes the answers to these questions can be found in, you
guessed it, comic books!

Next, Garrett looks at what comics have to say about the
apocalypse and how we should live our lives in light of this reality. Despair
is always a temptation, but Garrett argues in favor of hope, which is much more
than a vague desire for things to turn out right. True hope gives birth to
action. “How the world ends up is not up to us,” says Garrett. “But what we do
while we’re in it? That part most certainly is.”

Garrett concludes the book with a lengthy discussion on how
to bring an end to violence. Garrett argues that, “we love violence as much as
we love hatred.” However, even though retribution feels good at the time, it
only leads to more suffering. “Violence can shock and awe someone, but it will
never change an opinion, right a wrong, or save a soul.” Fair enough, but how
are we to respond to our enemies then? Compassion is the answer, says Garrett.
“We have to… see even our enemies—maybe especially our enemies—as human
beings.” Compassion destroys any false sense of dichotomy between our enemies
and us, making it much more difficult for us to hate and destroy. Thus begins
the long, hard road to healing and reconciliation. It also turns our attention
toward those whom Christ sent us to serve: the victims. Using Alan Moore’s
short story "This Is Information" to illustrate this fact, Garrett
shows that “the choice between good and evil, between us and them, may be
satisfying, but it’s a false choice. Our hands need to be extended to those who
are suffering, whoever they may be. But that can be a hard lesson for us to
hold.”

Hard indeed, but this is the path that all of us must walk
if we hope to be heroes in our world.