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.

Better Listen

Like many who watched Ken Burn’s “Country Music” documentary on PBS, I set one of our radio buttons to a country station. Or maybe I’m the only one. Anyway, I’ve found myself listening to more country songs—songs that tell a story.  There are the stories of George Strait’s rodeo riders with skewed-priorities heading off to Amarillo or Cheyenne. There are the tales of “big-iron” carrying cowboys from an earlier era told by Marty Robbins, who introduced us to Agua Fria, if not El Paso. And there are the ballads of Kenny Rogers.

I’ve heard Rogers’s “Coward of the County” quite often lately. The song, in case you don’t know, tells the story of the singer/narrator’s nephew Tommy, whose father died (hanged?) in prison. When he was only ten, Tommy was taken to the prison to visit his father for the last time. There, his remorseful father told him:

Son my life is over, but yours has just begun
Promise me, son
Not to do the things I've done
Walk away from trouble if you can
Now it don't mean you're weak
If you turn the other cheek
And I hope you're old enough to understand
Son, you don't have to fight to be a man

Tommy follows his father’s words so scrupulously that he becomes known as the coward of the county. We’re not told if that was an official title but people called him, “Yellow.” Then, Tommy’s girl/wife Becky is assaulted by the three Gatlin boys. Finally angry enough to act, Tommy tracks down the brothers and, after a frenzied fight, leaves them all on the barroom floor. (It’s not clear if Tommy as beaten them with his fists or with his guns, if they are knocked-out or dead.)

The song ends with Tommy, speaking to his father’s spirit, “Sometimes you gotta fight when you’re a man.”

First, this is not the greatest song ever written. Popular? Yes. Great? No. The plot has holes through which you can drive “a train bound for nowhere.” Second, I’m not sure Tommy understood what his father was saying. His father said, “Walk away from trouble IF you can.” (Obviously, Dad knew there are times when you can’t walk away from trouble; why Tommy’s uncle didn’t help him understand this is anyone’s guess.)

If, as some suggest, the song is set in the South, Tommy’s father may have been urging his son to reject the old “culture of honor” that demanded a swift and violent response to every perceived slight, a mindset that even sanctioned dueling. In short, Tommy’s dad may have been saying, “Measure your responses. Sometimes walking away is the right thing; sometimes it’s standing your ground.” Or if Dad had been into “pop” psychology (pun intended), he might have said, “Remember, the only way to win a game with a toxic person is to not play.” Still, the story allows us to wonder if Tommy had the come across Luther and Calvin’s perspective on turning the other cheek: Christian love allows you to accept a personal insult or injury but does not allow you to stand by when others are being hurt. But I digress.

Just as Tommy got his father’s words wrong, we may get the Bible’s words wrong. Paul tells the Ephesians, “Don’t be drunk with wine” and, somehow, his words become a general prohibition against drinking any alcohol. The apostle rightly points out the danger of drunkenness but he doesn’t demand we become teetotalers. If you choose avoid alcohol, fine; but those who have made that choice don’t have the right to question the integrity of those who have made other choices.

Many have misunderstood and misused Jesus’s words in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not judge so you won’t be judged” (Matthew 7:1). Some imagine Jesus giving a “Go, ye, right ahead” to any behavior—except, perhaps, judging. Instead, Jesus is addressing those self-righteous persons who are always ready to criticize others but who never engage in self-criticism (7:3-5). In the larger context of the Sermon and the New Testament, we learn Christian love demands we judge self-destructive and abusive behavior when we find it.

When we examine any statement in the Bible we need to ask certain questions: What does it say? Who is being addressed? Do the words also apply to me? Is this a directive for all time and every Christian or did it address a particular situation? Is the author describing behavior or prescribing behavior? How does my understanding of the words compare with how other Christians understand them?

Tommy’s life would have been easier if he had been given a little more guidance—from his uncle (who knew what was going on but watched in silence) and his mother (who plays no role in the song). While I believe every Christian is capable of reading and understanding the Bible, sometimes we may need a little help, especially if we take a wrong turn.

Shortly after my father became a believer he stumbled across some literature that claimed Christians were obliged to keep all the Old Testament laws with their dietary demands and emphasis on not becoming “defiled.” (My father was a pipefitter/plumber so he sometimes dealt with a lot of “defiling” stuff.) He struggled with how to reorder his life to live up to those demands. Fortunately, our pastor guided him to a better understanding of the issue and showed him how believers had been freed from the burden of the ceremonial law.

If Tommy had really listened to what his father said there might not have been a song—and Becky might not have endured a nightmare. When you read some puzzling statement in the Bible, I’d recommend you reread it carefully, ponder it thoughtfully, and talk about it with someone you trust.

What’s the French for “Pizza?”

Out of my hotel room window, I can watch cars line up at the McDonald’s drive-thru. They are there almost any time I look. If I tilt my head just a bit I can see the blue “t” of a Walmart sign. Though I can’t see it, I know there is a Taco Bell just around the corner. But such evidence is misleading. I’m clearly not looking out a hotel window in Columbus, Ohio, or Hereford, Texas. The McDonald’s sign promotes their “Saucisse McMuffin avec oeuf.”

I am in the old city of Quebec (founded 1608). The first European settlers in the area spoke French and the Québécois have never gotten over it. The official language of the province is French. All the road signs are in French—only French; ironically, the neighboring provinces of Ontario and New Brunswick use both English and French on their road signs. Fortunately, stop signs (“Arrêt”) are octagonal.

Pat and I sometimes couldn’t find anyone else who spoke English; when we did, it was often an older person. The problem wasn’t insurmountable. I even resurrected enough of the French I had studied years ago to order breakfast one morning (Saucisse McMuffin avec oeuf sans fromage). Okay it wasn’t elegant.

I often thought of the old 1953, Jimmy Kennedy song about Constantinople becoming Istanbul. It has the line, “Istanbul was Constantinople/Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople . . . Why did Constantinople get the works? /That's nobody's business but the Turks.”

That the Québécois have chosen to hold onto the French language is nobody’s business but theirs.

An old joke goes:

“What do you call someone who speaks three languages?”

“Trilingual.”

“What do you call someone who speaks two languages?”

“Bilingual.”

“What do you call someone who speaks one language?”

“An American.”

Americans do sometimes brashly assume everyone speaks English or, at least, ought to speak English. (Not an unreasonable assumption: in much of the world people are eagerly studying English.) We Americans are sometimes provincial; convinced everyone ought to be like us.

But I know places in Columbus where signs are in eight languages. I was recently in a hospital room where there was a phone that allowed doctors speak to patients, though interpreters who spoke one of 200 languages.

As individuals we Americans might be a bit narrow-minded from time to time. But on the whole we know we’re not the only folks in the world. And, contrary to widespread rumors, we want strangers to feel welcome. It’s a good attitude. N'est-ce pas?

A Trim and a Blessing

I had a haircut yesterday. It was Senior Wednesday, which meant a major discount (for some reason they don’t ask for my proof-of-age). The stylists—not “barbers” but “stylists”—were in a great mood. I heard them asking customers about their Easter plans. The young woman cutting my hair said she would be driving two-and-a-half hours to see her mother; she’d “have to go to church” but she was looking forward to seeing her mother. As each customer left, the stylists called out, “Have a happy Easter.”

My stylist wished me a “Happy Easter,” I said something similar and added, “Have a safe trip to see you mom.” But I didn’t say something else that crossed my mind: It is the very nature of Easter to be a happy day. Whether the day displays spring in its glory or is encumbered with so much snow church services must be cancelled (I’ve seen both), Easter is a day of celebration.

Easter celebrates the faithfulness of the God who promised to send One who would undo the impact of humanity’s rebellion, a rebellion against the very God who wished only our greatest good.

Easter celebrates the triumph over the tomb, ending the illusion of death’s finality, promising the possibility of a new life with an ever new newness .

Easter celebrates our confidence that evil, betrayal, cruelty, and hate will not have the final word.

So, have a happy Easter. What else?

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By the way, I have recently added two new books to my Kindle site. The Galatian Gospel: Lesson of Christian Freedom, a verse-by-verse study of Paul’s letter celebrating the gospel of grace; and Colossians: Counsel for a Church Confronting a Crisis of Confidence, an exposition of Paul’s letter to a backwater congregation dealing with false teachers who were undermining the foundations of Christian truth. You can see more at https://www.amazon.com/James-Hickman/e/B01FPJH6O8. Easter blessing to you all.

What Christmas Is About

I was buying a birthday card a few weeks ago when I saw some Christmas cards on sale. One showed a little girl looking up into the night sky as she said, “Thank you, Santa, for Christmas.” I didn’t have time to read the inside but surely “Santa” took a moment to explain what Christmas is really about.

Still, you never know.

I heard a friend reporting on his visit to a new church. He said the pastor was trying to inspire his congregation to show more compassion for people in difficult situations. Yet, he never pointed to the obvious example of compassion. My friend said the pastor seemed “afraid he would offend someone if he mentioned Jesus.” Surely, that couldn’t be, not even in today’s hyper-sensitive culture.

Still, you never know.

Down in Austin—not far from the buckle of the Bible Belt—I saw a bumper sticker saying, “Keep Christ in Christianity.” Surely that was an ironic comment. After all, words mean something. “Christianity” is centered on Christ.  Still, in a world where purses are made of vegan “leather,” you never know.

A study sponsored by hotels.com reports that two in five millennials in the UK know the baby in the manger scene is Jesus. That seems an unbelievable statistic coming from the nation that gave us so many of our favorite Christmas songs.

Still, you never know.

What do we know? Here’s a quick review for tomorrow, Christmas Day.

The birth of Jesus was a promise kept.  Centuries before God had promised a redeemer would come. He would come to redeem humankind from the consequences of sin. With Christmas that Redeemer was fulfilled.

The birth of Jesus was a promise made. When Jesus was born angels were there to make new promises.  Promises concerning “good news for all people,” promises concerning salvation from sin, promises concerning “peace and good will.” All around the world, when men and women trust Christ, these promises are being kept.

As we think about Christmas, we need to remember the birth of Jesus was an ordinary moment in history. I mention history because some today doubt the story happened at all. No one who knows much about history doubts Jesus lived. Nor do they deny this man made an unprecedented impact on all who met him. I say “ordinary” because women have given birth for thousands of years. Some of those births have taken place in unusual places, police cars, shopping malls, elevators, restaurants. Jesus, who was “born of … Mary,” as the creed says, was born a real human.

We also need to remember the birth of Jesus was an extraordinary moment in history. John puts the matter succinctly, “The Word became flesh and dwelled among us.” He was fully God and fully human, as Christians all over the world affirm. In order to fulfill the promise made centuries before, God came to walk among us as a fellow human, came to face the same temptations we all face, face them and be victorious over them. Because of this he could face death for us. Because of this he could provide a remedy for sin.

Of course, everyone knows this is what Christmas is about.

Still, you never know.