My grandson Lincoln has never seen a superhero costume that he didn’t want to instantly wear. He likes trying out those powers that he doesn’t possess: flying, leaping, zapping. I thought of Lincoln as I toured a superhero art exhibit at Crystal Bridges called “Men of Steel, Women of Wonder.” As our country emerged from The Great Depression and WWII, Superman and Wonder Woman emerged as symbols of rising strength.
The superheroes of the comics also created box office movie hits. They are more than child’s play. The exhibit reminded me that one reason superheroes became popular is that in addition to their strength, the superheroes are also vulnerable. For example, Superman’s powers are weakened by kryptonite. If superheroes were only strong, we could not relate to them. But they, like us, are vulnerable.
Some of the superhero images in the exhibit that captured my heart the most were the ones who displayed this vulnerability. For example, there was a young boy riding his bicycle at top speed as his superman cape flew behind him. He was rushing through the streets of Los Angeles as a delivery boy. And from his meager earnings, he was sending $500 a month to his family in Mexico. A superhero. And there was an elderly grandmother wading in the water in her superwoman bathing suit. Her skin was weathered and drooping. But her eyes were piercing. She was the grandmother of the artist, starring down the disease of Alzheimer’s with heroic courage. And one of my favorite pieces of all time, Rosie the Riveter, an airplane mechanic in World War II, muscling her way to victory over the evils of Hitler.
All of us have superheroes in our lives whose qualities we admire and seek to borrow or “put on” like a costume until we too develop the power to be someone brave. During Lent we seek to borrow that love we saw in Jesus. It seemed miraculous. And yet, he too was vulnerable. It is what enables us to relate to him. He walks alongside us, even now, empowering us to become “men of steel and women of wonder” who love as he loved.
Grace and peace,
Carla
