Superhero: Sort Of A Sequel
Preaching
Pulpit Science Fiction
Superhero: Sort Of A Sequel
Hebrews 12:1-2
The city was dark. At night the skies and streets were black, as criminals worked almost anywhere they pleased. No one was safe from muggers, rapists, or junkies trying to steal a few dollars for their next fix. Gangs of the unemployed and unemployable roamed the streets and alleys, fighting each other and beating people to death to relieve the boredom of their lives. Shadows were everywhere.
Things used to be good. Older citizens remembered when they could go to a movie downtown in the evening, walk the well-lighted streets, or sit on a bench in the park without fearing for their lives. Now you'd have to be crazy to do anything like that. Most people had forgotten about being either safe or happy, and just assumed that life had to be rotten.
Even during the day the city was dark. That was partly because of the air pollution that no one tried to control, pollution that turned the skies gray and kept the sun from penetrating into the canyons of the city even at noontime. But the sense of darkness also came from the well-known fact that the city was run by crooks -- crooks in the mayor's office, the police force, and leaders of businesses and labor unions. No one was free from them.
But few of the citizens had seen, or even knew about, the one who was at the top of the heap and bossed all this crime. He was the one who sat in his comfortable office and laughed at the television news reports about earnest citizens' groups and reforming political candidates who wanted to do something about crime and corruption. They talked solemnly about "studying" the drug problem, "cracking down" on pornography and prostitution or "demanding" clean air. But of course nothing ever came of their efforts.
It was all quite funny, especially if you were the Jester. Naturally, the Jester enjoyed his control of the city, but it especially appealed to his rather special sense of humor to play with these naive little people who were trying to do something about the darkness. Let an investigation by a citizens' group or some law enforcement program move along to the point where people were just thinking that they might accomplish something -- and then some witnesses would be intimidated or a well-planned scandal would involve one of the reformers, and the whole thing would fall apart. Then the Jester would lean back in his chair and laugh at the naive do-gooders who didn't know what had hit them.
He had refined this business of controlling things by humiliating his opponents to a fine art. It gave the Jester a lot of pleasure, so that he hardly ever needed to shoot people himself anymore to have fun.
Of course, there were also those who wanted to get tough with crime. Some of them formed vigilante groups or tried to play superhero. Occasionally, they would arrest or kill a few criminals, and sometimes they got arrested or killed themselves. It wasn't always easy to tell the difference between the superheroes and the criminals, and that provided more laughs for the Jester.
Late one evening, a small-time hood was holding a gun on a terrified old man on a deserted side street. He was thumbing through the contents of the old man's wallet with his other hand. Quietly, a man in a conservative gray suit stepped from the shadows and said, "You shouldn't be doing that. Give his money back to him."
The mugger glanced at the newcomer in a puzzled way. "Hey -- you crazy? You trying to be funny? Get outta here and maybe you won't get hurt!"
"Trying to be funny? I guess you could say that. Perhaps, I should give you my business card," and he held out a small piece of white cardboard.
In that situation, the gesture was so strange that the mugger was at a loss for a second, and in confusion juggled the gun and wallet as he tried to get a free hand to take the card. Suddenly both gun and wallet were in the stranger's hands. The gun went sailing into the darkness of the alley and the wallet was back in the old man's pocket.
"What are you doing?" yelled the stunned robber. "Who do you think you are -- Batman?"
"Not at all. Just plain, 'Man,' will do, and please pass the word to your boss that from now on the joke is on him." He turned and walked away. The would-be mugger picked up the card from the pavement. On it there was a picture of a man hanging from a gallows and the words, "Enthronements our specialty: Call 1-800-564-6316."
When the Jester heard about this, he wasn't amused. "Some smart aleck imitator" he said, looking at the card with the hanged man on it. "What kind of sicko humor is this supposed to be? He's trying to make me look stupid. Get rid of him," he said to his henchmen who were standing around. "Nobody jests with the Jester."
But it's hard to get rid of someone whose appearances are always unexpected, and who never does what you anticipate. When Man showed up during a crime in progress, preposterous things happened. The criminals were confused and the intended victims usually left with more money than they'd started with. He always left his card with the gallows and the phone number, 1-800-564-6316.
Of course, the newspapers and television stations wanted pictures and interviews, but they didn't have much luck. Some people thought he must be another criminal trying to muscle in on the Jester's territory, but the MO didn't really fit. The only people who were getting hurt were criminals and dishonest officials.
When the drug dealers brought their briefcases of $100 bills to the Jester's office one day, they turned out to be full of Monopoly money. They didn't laugh, and they didn't feel any better when they found that all the cocaine that they'd smuggled in was high-grade confectioner's sugar. The next day, all the streetwalkers on Fifth Avenue were handing out Bible Society tracts. And, somehow, foul-smelling sludge was getting into the hot tubs of corporate officials who'd been dumping waste into the river.
The Jester sat fuming in his plush office. There was nothing funny about this. Now he was the joke. He was deep in thought, and only gradually realized that someone was standing there. "I thought it was time we met," said the man in the gray suit. "My card." And he held out the picture of the gallows.
"You're pushing your luck," the Jester said. "What are you after? Revenge for something? Want to be a hero and have the women fall into your arms? Or do you just want a cut of the take?"
"No, nothing as complicated as that," said Man. "It's just that life is supposed to be good for everybody. There's something wrong when a few people enjoy it at the expense of everyone else."
"So, it's just another moral crusade," sneered the man behind the desk. "Next thing I know you'll be telling me what God wants me to do! Look -- everyone's a crook. Everybody's looking out for Number One. I'm just better at it than they are. You're going to persuade me to give up my advantage by becoming a good citizen? Don't make me laugh!"
"I wish I could," said the other. "Of course, you're right -- they all are crooked. Everyone has a lot of meanness and selfishness inside. But the joke, you see, is that I love them anyway. And the real knee-slapper -- wait for it! -- The real joke is that I even love you!"
Suddenly, a gun was in the Jester's hand. "The joke's gone far enough," he snarled, and a sadistic smile crossed his face. "Have you ever traded jokes with the devil?" he asked softly, and pulled the trigger. But all that came out was a little flag with the word "BANG" printed on it. Man said, "So long -- it's been fun," and slipped out.
Of course they got him eventually. He was captured and they put some charges together, bribed a jury to convict him, and sentenced him to be hanged. While the drug dealers and murderers were getting off with slaps on the wrist, his sentence was carried out quickly. And when the body had been cut down, the Jester said, "That's the end of that wise guy."
The Jester usually guessed right, but this time he was way off.
They didn't have to wait too long for the punch line. When they got the cheap wooden coffin out to the graveyard, to the rundown section where the paupers were buried, one of the grave-diggers said, "This coffin's too light. Somebody musta' made a mistake. Let's don't waste our time." So they pried the lid off the coffin and found it empty -- or almost empty. In it there was a card with a picture of a man hanging from the gallows and the words, "Enthronements our specialty: Call 1-800-JOH-N316."
Comment
Many films of the superhero genre are pretty forgettable. The 1989 Batman with Michael Keaton as Batman and Jack Nicholson as the Joker was something of an exception. Unlike characters with superhuman powers such as Superman, Batman is genuinely human, albeit with plenty of technological gadgetry at his disposal. Keaton was able to make him more than just a one-dimensional fighter for goodness, and Nicholson's manic performance in a similar way fleshed out the villain.
This sermon was preached in the summer in which that film was released. This is always something of a risk: Even if a film (or television program or book) has received a lot of public attention, there may be many members in any given congregation who know nothing about it. Sometimes, though, that is a risk one takes in order to try to address the gospel to popular culture. I've modified that earlier version of this story sermon a little so that it is not so heavily dependent on Batman. Those who have seen that movie, however, will recognize a number of the references.
The phone number in the sermon is probably too subtle for oral delivery. But JOHN is, in fact, 5646 on a normal touchtone phone, and spelling out JOH-N316 at first would give too much away.
The suggested text is part of the Second Lesson, Hebrews 11:29--12:2, for Proper 15 in Year C of the Revised Common Lectionary. The earlier part of the reading refers to some of the "superheroes" of Israel's story, but I had in mind especially the statement in 12:2 about Jesus who "endured the cross, disregarding [RSV "despising"] its shame." This suggests a note of defiance of the powers of evil.
Hebrews 12:1-2
The city was dark. At night the skies and streets were black, as criminals worked almost anywhere they pleased. No one was safe from muggers, rapists, or junkies trying to steal a few dollars for their next fix. Gangs of the unemployed and unemployable roamed the streets and alleys, fighting each other and beating people to death to relieve the boredom of their lives. Shadows were everywhere.
Things used to be good. Older citizens remembered when they could go to a movie downtown in the evening, walk the well-lighted streets, or sit on a bench in the park without fearing for their lives. Now you'd have to be crazy to do anything like that. Most people had forgotten about being either safe or happy, and just assumed that life had to be rotten.
Even during the day the city was dark. That was partly because of the air pollution that no one tried to control, pollution that turned the skies gray and kept the sun from penetrating into the canyons of the city even at noontime. But the sense of darkness also came from the well-known fact that the city was run by crooks -- crooks in the mayor's office, the police force, and leaders of businesses and labor unions. No one was free from them.
But few of the citizens had seen, or even knew about, the one who was at the top of the heap and bossed all this crime. He was the one who sat in his comfortable office and laughed at the television news reports about earnest citizens' groups and reforming political candidates who wanted to do something about crime and corruption. They talked solemnly about "studying" the drug problem, "cracking down" on pornography and prostitution or "demanding" clean air. But of course nothing ever came of their efforts.
It was all quite funny, especially if you were the Jester. Naturally, the Jester enjoyed his control of the city, but it especially appealed to his rather special sense of humor to play with these naive little people who were trying to do something about the darkness. Let an investigation by a citizens' group or some law enforcement program move along to the point where people were just thinking that they might accomplish something -- and then some witnesses would be intimidated or a well-planned scandal would involve one of the reformers, and the whole thing would fall apart. Then the Jester would lean back in his chair and laugh at the naive do-gooders who didn't know what had hit them.
He had refined this business of controlling things by humiliating his opponents to a fine art. It gave the Jester a lot of pleasure, so that he hardly ever needed to shoot people himself anymore to have fun.
Of course, there were also those who wanted to get tough with crime. Some of them formed vigilante groups or tried to play superhero. Occasionally, they would arrest or kill a few criminals, and sometimes they got arrested or killed themselves. It wasn't always easy to tell the difference between the superheroes and the criminals, and that provided more laughs for the Jester.
Late one evening, a small-time hood was holding a gun on a terrified old man on a deserted side street. He was thumbing through the contents of the old man's wallet with his other hand. Quietly, a man in a conservative gray suit stepped from the shadows and said, "You shouldn't be doing that. Give his money back to him."
The mugger glanced at the newcomer in a puzzled way. "Hey -- you crazy? You trying to be funny? Get outta here and maybe you won't get hurt!"
"Trying to be funny? I guess you could say that. Perhaps, I should give you my business card," and he held out a small piece of white cardboard.
In that situation, the gesture was so strange that the mugger was at a loss for a second, and in confusion juggled the gun and wallet as he tried to get a free hand to take the card. Suddenly both gun and wallet were in the stranger's hands. The gun went sailing into the darkness of the alley and the wallet was back in the old man's pocket.
"What are you doing?" yelled the stunned robber. "Who do you think you are -- Batman?"
"Not at all. Just plain, 'Man,' will do, and please pass the word to your boss that from now on the joke is on him." He turned and walked away. The would-be mugger picked up the card from the pavement. On it there was a picture of a man hanging from a gallows and the words, "Enthronements our specialty: Call 1-800-564-6316."
When the Jester heard about this, he wasn't amused. "Some smart aleck imitator" he said, looking at the card with the hanged man on it. "What kind of sicko humor is this supposed to be? He's trying to make me look stupid. Get rid of him," he said to his henchmen who were standing around. "Nobody jests with the Jester."
But it's hard to get rid of someone whose appearances are always unexpected, and who never does what you anticipate. When Man showed up during a crime in progress, preposterous things happened. The criminals were confused and the intended victims usually left with more money than they'd started with. He always left his card with the gallows and the phone number, 1-800-564-6316.
Of course, the newspapers and television stations wanted pictures and interviews, but they didn't have much luck. Some people thought he must be another criminal trying to muscle in on the Jester's territory, but the MO didn't really fit. The only people who were getting hurt were criminals and dishonest officials.
When the drug dealers brought their briefcases of $100 bills to the Jester's office one day, they turned out to be full of Monopoly money. They didn't laugh, and they didn't feel any better when they found that all the cocaine that they'd smuggled in was high-grade confectioner's sugar. The next day, all the streetwalkers on Fifth Avenue were handing out Bible Society tracts. And, somehow, foul-smelling sludge was getting into the hot tubs of corporate officials who'd been dumping waste into the river.
The Jester sat fuming in his plush office. There was nothing funny about this. Now he was the joke. He was deep in thought, and only gradually realized that someone was standing there. "I thought it was time we met," said the man in the gray suit. "My card." And he held out the picture of the gallows.
"You're pushing your luck," the Jester said. "What are you after? Revenge for something? Want to be a hero and have the women fall into your arms? Or do you just want a cut of the take?"
"No, nothing as complicated as that," said Man. "It's just that life is supposed to be good for everybody. There's something wrong when a few people enjoy it at the expense of everyone else."
"So, it's just another moral crusade," sneered the man behind the desk. "Next thing I know you'll be telling me what God wants me to do! Look -- everyone's a crook. Everybody's looking out for Number One. I'm just better at it than they are. You're going to persuade me to give up my advantage by becoming a good citizen? Don't make me laugh!"
"I wish I could," said the other. "Of course, you're right -- they all are crooked. Everyone has a lot of meanness and selfishness inside. But the joke, you see, is that I love them anyway. And the real knee-slapper -- wait for it! -- The real joke is that I even love you!"
Suddenly, a gun was in the Jester's hand. "The joke's gone far enough," he snarled, and a sadistic smile crossed his face. "Have you ever traded jokes with the devil?" he asked softly, and pulled the trigger. But all that came out was a little flag with the word "BANG" printed on it. Man said, "So long -- it's been fun," and slipped out.
Of course they got him eventually. He was captured and they put some charges together, bribed a jury to convict him, and sentenced him to be hanged. While the drug dealers and murderers were getting off with slaps on the wrist, his sentence was carried out quickly. And when the body had been cut down, the Jester said, "That's the end of that wise guy."
The Jester usually guessed right, but this time he was way off.
They didn't have to wait too long for the punch line. When they got the cheap wooden coffin out to the graveyard, to the rundown section where the paupers were buried, one of the grave-diggers said, "This coffin's too light. Somebody musta' made a mistake. Let's don't waste our time." So they pried the lid off the coffin and found it empty -- or almost empty. In it there was a card with a picture of a man hanging from the gallows and the words, "Enthronements our specialty: Call 1-800-JOH-N316."
Comment
Many films of the superhero genre are pretty forgettable. The 1989 Batman with Michael Keaton as Batman and Jack Nicholson as the Joker was something of an exception. Unlike characters with superhuman powers such as Superman, Batman is genuinely human, albeit with plenty of technological gadgetry at his disposal. Keaton was able to make him more than just a one-dimensional fighter for goodness, and Nicholson's manic performance in a similar way fleshed out the villain.
This sermon was preached in the summer in which that film was released. This is always something of a risk: Even if a film (or television program or book) has received a lot of public attention, there may be many members in any given congregation who know nothing about it. Sometimes, though, that is a risk one takes in order to try to address the gospel to popular culture. I've modified that earlier version of this story sermon a little so that it is not so heavily dependent on Batman. Those who have seen that movie, however, will recognize a number of the references.
The phone number in the sermon is probably too subtle for oral delivery. But JOHN is, in fact, 5646 on a normal touchtone phone, and spelling out JOH-N316 at first would give too much away.
The suggested text is part of the Second Lesson, Hebrews 11:29--12:2, for Proper 15 in Year C of the Revised Common Lectionary. The earlier part of the reading refers to some of the "superheroes" of Israel's story, but I had in mind especially the statement in 12:2 about Jesus who "endured the cross, disregarding [RSV "despising"] its shame." This suggests a note of defiance of the powers of evil.
