Superman, Saints, Sinners, and the Struggle for the Ideal
Why Gunn’s Superman succeeds in showing humanity’s struggle—and why even the strongest heroes still need something higher to guide them.
James Gunn’s Superman, released on July 11, has ignited a fierce debate—not only among critics and fanboys but among those who see Superman as something more than just another superhero.
Some applaud Gunn for presenting a more vulnerable, conflicted Man of Steel. Others worry this humanized Superman—shown getting beat up and tossed around, losing fights—has also lost the moral clarity and transcendent purpose that have always made him an icon.
At stake is not merely the fate of a cinematic franchise. Beneath this debate lies a question as old as humanity itself:
How human should our heroes be—and why does it matter?
This question delves into profound truths about human dignity, moral agency, and the potential for transformation. Likewise, Gunn’s Superman examines what it means to be a human being, to fall short of expectations, and despite the best intentions, how we may live with the weight of wrong decisions. Which wins, nature or nurture?
This is also where theology, art, and storytelling converge in surprising ways. To understand how, we need to look beyond Krypton towards a picture in a dimly lit tavern with Rome as its backdrop. There, a tax collector named Matthew was called to greatness.
The Christian Heroic Ideal: Humanity Aimed Toward the Divine
As I sat in the dark, munching on way too much oily popcorn, the threads of thoughts began to weave a tapestry in my mind. Superman, for me, has always been an ideal. I have a standing debate with an old friend about who was the better superhero—Batman or Superman?
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In many ways, we live in an age where Batman is the ideal. His skepticism and dark demeanor are how most want to portray themselves to the chaos of the world; it certainly gives them a sense of power and control within this tempest we call modern life.
I always chose Superman. He seems like an outdated relic, an overgrown Boy Scout—helping old ladies cross streets, waving to neighbors, calling them by their first names. There’s not a drop of skepticism in his entire being. He flies around with hope blazing across his chest.
Knight and Day.
Yet there’s something timeless about Superman. His heroism is not merely about power or control; it’s rooted in service and selflessness. He embodies a willingness to do what is right and good, no matter the personal cost—a vision strikingly close to the Christian heroic ideal.
The Christian heroic ideal envisions heroes not merely as warriors or conquerors, but as figures who embody moral and spiritual valor. Heroism here means more than physical strength—it means choosing the good, often at great personal cost.
Several key elements shine forth in this vision. Christianity teaches that every human being is made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26-27). This grants each person not only intrinsic worth but also the potential for greatness—a destiny that transcends worldly limitations.
Christianity calls people not merely to avoid sin but to become “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4):
"By which He has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire."
This process, known as theosis, involves moral and spiritual transformation into Christ-likeness. Heroes in this tradition are those who, despite their weaknesses, align themselves with divine truth and virtue.
This subjugation of the will and moral transformation comes about through the interplay of faith and reason. Rather than viewing faith and reason as antagonistic, Christian humanism maintains that they are not mutually exclusive, just as humanity and divinity are not mutually exclusive. In every person lies the capacity for both intellectual and spiritual flourishing, anchored in objective truth.
True greatness, Christ taught, is achieved through service. “The greatest among you shall be your servant” (Matthew 23:11). The Christian hero models self-sacrifice, compassion, and moral courage. Service is about moving beyond the self and flowing towards the needs of others.
This vision asserts that being human and being heroic are not mutually exclusive. Rather, humanity—frail and flawed—is precisely the raw material from which sanctity and heroism emerge. To quote David Bowie, “we can be heroes…”
Superman: The Modern Galahad
From his earliest days in the comics, Superman has embodied these same ideals. Jim Shooter, one of Superman’s most influential writers, famously described him as the modern-day Sir Galahad—the knight so pure that he alone glimpsed the Holy Grail.
Superman’s classic heroism is defined by three key characteristics: unwavering moral clarity, self-restraint and compassion, and a devotion to truth, justice, and the dignity of all.
Unwavering Moral Clarity
In Christian narratives, moral clarity is often associated with divine truth and righteousness. Superman’s ability to discern right from wrong without being swayed by personal gain or societal pressures mirrors the Christian emphasis on living according to divine principles. His actions are guided by an internal compass that aligns with the Christian ideal of unwavering faith and adherence to moral truth.
Self-Restraint and Compassion
Christianity emphasizes the importance of humility, self-control, and love for others. Superman’s self-restraint, especially in choosing not to use his immense power destructively, reflects the Christian virtue of meekness—strength under control. His compassion for humanity, akin to Jesus’ role as “the good shepherd,” underscores the importance of love and service to others. (In fact, in early Christian art, the image of the good shepherd is borrowed from ancient Greek statuary to portray this image, this meme. We humans always remix.)
Devotion to Truth, Justice, and the Dignity of All
In the Christian ethos, truth is viewed as divine, justice is seen as a reflection of God’s will, and human dignity is considered inherent to all individuals. Superman’s mission to uphold these values aligns with the Christian call to promote justice and respect for all people, regardless of their status or background, as all human life has dignity, not just the potential for sainthood.
Superman doesn’t wrestle endlessly with moral ambiguity. He faces moral challenges, but always acts with steadfast commitment to an objective good. That’s precisely what has made him a cultural North Star—a symbol of what humanity can aspire to be.
James Gunn’s Superman: A Hero in Existential Crisis
Many feel Gunn’s new Superman seems to present a significant departure from this tradition. Perhaps he struggles with moral uncertainty. When Lois Lane presses him about his decisions, he responds in frustration rather than calm moral confidence. Yet, the debate is really between a journalist pushing for objective truth while the subject in the interview is arguing his commitment to protecting the downtrodden—he is a protector of the oppressed and marginalized.
When Lex Luthor steals Krypto, Gunn depicts Superman losing his temper—an emotional reaction far from the prudence expected of a heroic ideal. He displays high emotional volatility. But as “man’s best friend”, is he not supposed to rush to protect and help his dog? (Spoiler: A dog that, apparently, wasn’t his to begin with.)
Rather than being an exemplary, lone figure, Gunn’s Superman is one of many heroes in a world where super-beings are quite plentiful. This may create a morally complex context in that Superman is not a solitary anomaly, but a figure in a sea of OP characters.
At first glance, these traits might suggest Gunn’s Superman is sheathed in moral relativism, where truth is purely subjective, and heroism is reduced to authenticity rather than moral excellence.
A Possible Nuance: Moral Agency vs. Moral Relativism
Yet it’s important to acknowledge a possible nuance. In Gunn’s film, Jonathan Kent tells Clark:
“Your choices. Your actions. That’s what makes you who you are.”
This suggests that Gunn is not necessarily endorsing moral relativism. Instead, he may be highlighting moral agency—the idea that it’s not one’s nature or powers that make a hero, but one’s choices.
Is Superman great because of his nature? Or is Superman great because of how he was raised?
As an alien and outsider to humans on Earth, he still assimilates. He may be faster than a speeding bullet, but he can’t outrun what it means to be human. He can’t outrun mistakes.
This resonates deeply with Christian tradition. Saints were sinners too. They weren’t perfect from birth, but became heroic because they chose virtue and repentance, resulting in transformation.
Christian heroism emphasizes free will. Holiness is not automatic; it’s a cooperation between divine grace (God) and human choice. We humans must learn to restrain, through mortification, our base desires so that we can align with our divine purpose. This leads to spiritual growth and union with God.
Gunn’s Superman might therefore be seen as an existential hero—flawed, searching, and tested—but still capable of choosing the good. The question becomes, what is his motivation for choosing to do what is right? This suspicion creates an interesting tension within the film.
The Caravaggio Paradigm: Humanizing Heroes Without Losing the Ideal
To discern whether Gunn’s humanization succeeds or fails, we should look to an unexpected but perfect guide: Caravaggio’s “The Calling of St. Matthew.”
St. Matthew: A Heroic Transformation
St. Matthew’s story is a paradigm of the Christian heroic ideal. He begins as a tax collector, a profession traditionally linked to greed and moral compromise. Matthew is a vile, wretched figure to his community. Yet, once he is called to follow Jesus, he leaves everything behind—a profound act of faith and obedience. Matthew becomes an evangelist, dedicating his life to spreading the Gospel.
Matthew’s transformation embodies the idea that holiness and heroism are possible for every human being. His life proclaims that human dignity lies not in being flawless, but in choosing to respond to God’s call.
After all, was it nature or nurture that led to Matthew’s transformation?
Caravaggio’s Radical Vision
Fast-forward to 17th-century Baroque Italy. On the heels of what is known as the Counter-Reformation, the Catholic Church is engaged in a battle for souls. They call in the best arsenal they can find; the shock and awe of art. Among these religious soldiers, Caravaggio, largely responsible for the strong, dramatic depictions in painting during that period, provided the artillery.
Yet, Caravaggio’s depictions of profound religious moments and figures were not without controversy and were regarded as revolutionary. He used a contemporary setting. Matthew is cast in a dark, ordinary tavern. Figures wear the latest fashions of Baroque Italy—a shocking choice for religious art at the time. Matthew sits counting money, surrounded by dubious company and furtive glances. His eyes widen in disbelief as Christ points at him. He gestures toward himself as if to say, “Me?”
Caravaggio’s own life was famously tumultuous, filled with violence and scandal. Perhaps his paintings were a vehicle to grapple with his own guilt—a pathway toward redemption, or even his own imagined ascension into heaven.
Drawing on the drama of the theater and stage, Caravaggio employs dramatic chiaroscuro in his paintings. Raking across Matthew’s astonished face is a light that symbolizes a divine grace breaking into human darkness. Matthew’s expression reveals both fear and hope. It’s a moment of profound inner conflict—a man torn between his past and the possibility of a new identity.
Caravaggio’s genius lies in showing that holiness is not abstract. It happens in the grit and grime of real life. His saints are deeply human—almost too much; we judge. But they remain saints because they respond to the divine call. They are the definition of obedience.
They are not saints because they never sinned; they are saints because they sinned less and less. Their responses become our source for inspiration and enlightenment. They were once us, and we may be like them.
Gunn’s Superman: A New Path Toward the Ideal?
This is precisely the standard by which we should evaluate Gunn’s Superman. Caravaggio’s Matthew is flawed—but he’s transformed by grace. His humanity is not an end in itself; it’s the stage upon which divine truth acts. Matthew pursues when called.
Gunn’s Superman likewise appears conflicted and sometimes adrift. His moral uncertainty and emotional volatility risk becoming the defining features of his character, rather than moments he transcends through alignment with an objective truth.
Yet perhaps that’s precisely the challenge of telling Superman’s story in our age. Gunn’s humanization of Superman is not a failure—it’s an honest attempt to wrestle with the paradox of depicting a flawless hero in a culture that prizes vulnerability, authenticity, and relatability. Gunn dares to show that even Superman grapples with doubt and moral struggle. In this, he succeeds in taking a significant creative risk: he makes Superman human without entirely stripping away his heroic spirit. Gunn’s vision invites us to witness Superman’s path toward virtue rather than starting him there. It’s that vulnerability that makes him more relatable—more human and, in a way, more heroic.
And yet, as I watched, another realization struck me: even Gunn’s Superman, for all his humanity, lacks one crucial dimension—a clear relationship to the divine. Unlike Caravaggio’s saints, who are flawed but called by an external divine light, Gunn’s hero searches inward for answers. The result is a hero who remains noble but whose compass risks being merely personal rather than transcendent. Superman could become merely another conflicted protagonist.
This isn’t a condemnation of Gunn’s work. On the contrary, it reveals the limits of our modern imagination. We’re capable of depicting human heroes with depth and authenticity—but we often hesitate to root their moral journey in anything beyond themselves. It’s this missing reference to God, I believe, that leaves modern hero stories powerful yet ultimately incomplete.
Perhaps the next great Superman film will be the one that not only humanizes him but also anchors him in the divine ideal that has always been his true North Star.
Human Dignity as the Lynchpin
Ultimately, this entire debate centers on human dignity—the Christian belief that we are all created with inherent worth, that we are capable of holiness and transformation, and that we are called to align our lives with divine truth.
Caravaggio’s St. Matthew shows that the proper way to humanize heroes is to emphasize both human frailty and divine calling. Our flaws are real, but they are not the end of the story. They become the soil in which grace can grow.
Superman, at his best, has always reflected this same truth. He’s human enough to feel empathy and struggle, but strong enough to choose virtue, anchored in an ideal bigger than himself.
Heroes Who Call Us Higher
So, should Superman be human? Absolutely. Humanity is what makes heroism meaningful. A hero who never doubts or struggles cannot inspire us.
But to be truly heroic, humanity must always point upward—to the ideal. Like St. Matthew rising from his table of coins while Caravaggio’s luminous beam cuts through the darkness, true heroism calls flawed humans to become more than they are. Caravaggio lived this truth in his own tumultuous life, pursued by shadowy demons, creating his art as both confession and aspiration—a symbol of hope.
James Gunn’s Superman gives us a man, but what we want is a hero—one whose humanity doesn’t merely reflect our brokenness but shows us the way toward greatness.
Because in the end, heroes—whether saints in sacred art or superheroes in capes—exist not merely to reflect who we are, but to remind us of who we’re called to become. And perhaps the pursuit of timeless wisdom lies precisely here: in seeking heroes who, flawed though they are, point us beyond ourselves—to the divine ideal that alone can make us truly whole.