What Would Batman (and Bruce) Do During This Crisis?

On a typical night in Gotham, criminals slip into the dark hoping to rob the unwary or burglarize the shops of hard-working merchants—some might even dare to slip into the homes of sleeping citizen, men and women who locked their doors, brushed their teeth, and said their prayers as the thieves were pocketing their lockpicks. Gotham’s criminal class would do this because that is what criminals do, whether in Gotham, Columbus, Amarillo, or wherever there are those who claim night’s shadows as their workspace. Using the dark of night, criminals make the best of us cringe. But in Gotham, those criminals would be ever aware that the shadows are not always safe—especially if the shadow resembles a large member of the order chiroptera; in other words, a really big bat.

Most Americans, even those who have never picked up a comic book, know Gotham City is the home of Batman, the secret-identity of billionaire (he was just a millionaire when I first read the comics; inflation, I suppose) playboy Bruce Wayne. Wayne, orphaned when one of Gotham’s criminals killed his parents during a robbery, uses his vast wealth, brilliant mind, and toned body to fight crime as Batman. He sees this work as his calling. Indeed, only days after his parents’ deaths, the youngster pledged, "by the spirits of my parents I will avenge their deaths by spending the rest of my life warring on all criminals.”

It would be years before that pledge became reality. Years of mental and physical training, years turning the cavern beneath Wayne Manor into the world’s most advanced forensic laboratory, years determining just the right form to take in order to most-effectively make war on all criminals. When Bruce Wayne finally became the World’s Greatest Detective, the Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader, Batman, crime’s hold on Gotham began to weaken.

For, on a typical night in Gotham, the powerful Batmobile roars into the dark and it is the criminal’s turn to cringe.

But, suppose that lately Gotham—like your town—has not had “typical” nights. Suppose that Gotham, too, has been under a “stay-at-home” order.

How would Batman/Bruce Wayne respond to what is happening?

Bruce, inspired by the example of his philanthropist parents, could give millions to buy face masks, provide food-packages for the homeless, and help his employees at Wayne Industries pay their bills—even for employees considered “non-essential.” He would probably challenge R&D genius Lucius Fox and WI’s other scientists to pursue a cure for COVID-19.

To enhance his reputation as a vacuous playboy, Bruce might publicly suggest holding a banquet to raise funds to fight the virus, only to have Alfred remind him of the need for social distancing.

Privately, Bruce would probably insist his butler and confidant, Alfred—a man of a certain age—remain at the manor. No need to search Gotham for caviar when there were leftovers from bygone banquets.

But what about Batman, Bruce’s alter ego?

I’ve just finished reading Paul Asay’s God on the Streets of Gotham and Hush, a novel-length comic book by Jeph Loeb. Asay attempts to use the Batman saga as a starting point to discuss purpose, morality, human relationships, and other topics suggested by Batman’s life. Loeb’s story arc helps us understand why Batman is called the Dark Knight. Each writer, in his own way, suggests Batman would don the cowl and head out into a world threatened by COVID-19. That’s what a hero does. Right? I’m not so sure.

Yes, the pre-adolescent Bruce had made that pledge, the pledge that propels Batman into Gotham’s night, though he might be bruised and otherwise wounded from his encounters with the likes of Joker, Penguin, Croc, and Bane. But I like to think that after years of honoring that pledge, Batman has realized his mission had produced unintended consequences. Batman was a hero, even a role model. Honestly, there are posters proclaiming, “Always be yourself—unless you can be Batman. Then, always be Batman.”

Charles Barkley famously rejected being a role model. But future basketball hall-of-famer Karl Malone offered a friendly challenge to Barkley: "Charles...I don't think it's your decision to make. We don't choose to be role models, we are chosen. Our only choice is whether to be a good role model or a bad one." (Newsweek, 27 June 1993) I think Batman would want to be a good role model.

Batman would know that his violating the stay-at-home rule would inspire others to so. Even though Lucius Fox might create a cowl that would effectively block any pathogens, the Caped Crusader would know others didn’t share that protection. He would not want to put them at risk.  When I hear of pastors or priests insisting their congregations meet despite the warnings, I am embarrassed and not a little angry. How dare they misuse their influence to urge others to risk getting sick, thereby risking infecting others, not to mention further overburdening a severely overburdened hospital system. In short, Batman would rein-in his ego. Now, there’s a role model.

Of course, Batman would challenge others to take the situation seriously. Bruce would insist Alfred stay at home. Batman would try to persuade his frenemy Selena Kyle (a.k.a., Catwoman) to avoid public places, like art museums, jewelry stores, and banks. Batman/Bruce’s relationship with Catwoman/Selena is complicated, but I also doubt the Dark Knight would take joy in the Riddler or Penguin getting sick. He might even suggest Commissioner Gordon allow younger members of the GCPD to be on the front lines during the crisis. Those who insist COVID-19 is just a bad case of flu or a government conspiracy are displaying paranoia and fundamental ignorance.

Then, too, I don’t believe Batman would spend much time speculating about the meaning of the disease. I’m not speaking of its scientific or medical meaning. I am speaking of what we might call its theological or philosophical meaning. Though Batman doesn’t do theology, he does engage in some deep reflection about human nature and the inherent frustrations of fighting crime (like Superman he knows it’s a “never-ending battle”), he doesn’t let himself get bogged down with the Questions.  Just as that’s about to happen the Bat Signal illuminates the sky and the time for speculation has passed.

Some of my fellow pastors could learn from Batman. God, headline-grabbing pastors have declared, is punishing America for its sins. Apparently, God had to target China, Italy, and other nations first to get ready for us. I’ve never quite understood the certainty behind these jeremiads. A dear friend was certain Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans to punish the city for its sinful ways. Funny thing, of course, the French Quarter—the city’s best-known center of wild living—was the least damaged part of the city. The French, it seems, built what became the Quarter on the highest ground available so it was less impacted by flood waters. On the other hand, the seminary I attended, on the city’s north side, was flooded, devastating much of the campus.

A few years ago, my doctor informed me I had developed a shellfish allergy (I was itchy). Anyway, I can no longer eat shrimp, fried clams, or clam chowder. Since that time, I have not spent a moment wondering why God was doing this to me, taking away food I really enjoyed. Now, I know not being able to enjoy a shrimp cocktail doesn’t measure up to the Coronavirus epidemic. But my point is, maybe God had nothing to do with my allergy. And, dare I say it, maybe God has nothing to do with the coronavirus. Maybe the laws of the natural world created the virus, allowing it to escape from its usual habitat. Nobody sinned, nobody offended God. That break-out having happened, the virulent virus ventured into our world where unprecedented access to one another through air-travel allowed it to spread.  

Mentioning the virus’s usual habitat brings me to a final point. Though he might regret the worry and disruption caused by the coronavirus, I doubt Batman would spend a lot of time feeling guilty because he was looking after himself and those he cared about. In all the comics I read, I never recall seeing Bruce Wayne in a church. (Clark Kent, raised in Kansas, never seemed to go either; Diana Prince, though, occasionally invoked one or another of the Greek gods and goddesses.) Still, superheroes know about responsibility (just ask Spiderman), but most know they shouldn’t waste energy on guilt. That energy should be channeled into making a difference.

I’m no superhero but from the standpoint of being a former pastor, I’d like to think none of my colleagues would use guilt to insist church members show up during this crisis.  But lest I seem as idealistic as Jimmy Olsen, I know some do. While we should never underestimate the temporary usefulness of guilt, it has limited long term power to change behavior. How much better it would be for those pastors to say, “Stay home during this crisis. When Sunday morning comes, remember to pray for your church and the world. Be wise, be caring, and be hopeful.” Instead of feeling guilty because you haven’t sat in a pew this week, send an encouraging text to a friend or put a sign in the window thanking your mail carrier or “waste-disposal coordinator” for their faithfulness.

Why would I suggest Batman might feel guilty anyway? Right now, some of the science weighing in on the virus’s origin suggests it came from bats.