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Bruce David Forbes
Why do comic books include religious language and imagery? The following article discusses the implications of this trend, arguing that their presence reflects religion's continuing role in providing resources for people engaged in quests for meaning or caught in struggles of good and evil.
A decade ago, as an unexpected consequence of my four year old son's interest in superhero action figures, I rediscovered comic books. And I was surprised by much that I saw. First, to paraphrase a former DC Comics slogan, "they weren't just for kids any more." In fact, many of the comic books were not for children at all. The complexity of dialogue, plots, and backstories required at least teenage abilities of comprehension, the subject matter was often mature, and the art sometimes departed from comic line drawings to become fully painted illustrations in a variety of styles, even appearing in hardbound books called "graphic novels." In many comic book specialty stores, adult customers outnumbered adolescent boys.
Another surprise was how frequently these comic books employed religious symbols and terminology. I am a professor of Religious Studies, and in academic settings I am accustomed to discussions of religion and literature in which readers discover implicit theological themes in novels that, on the surface, appear to have little to do with religion. Yet in many modern superhero comic books, one does not have to dig that far. The religious language and imagery are there on the surface, with terms like "resurrection" and "armageddon" in story titles, and characters named Bishop or Supreme or Archangel or Darkseid, and heroes drawn in crucifixion poses.
I am not referring to comic books produced by evangelical Christians for missionary purposes; these are mainstream superhero comic books, featuring Superman, Batman, Green Arrow, or Wolverine. Why do these comic books include such religious language and imagery? What does it mean? In wrestling with these questions, I want to argue that religion's presence in comic books reflects religion's continuing role in providing resources for people engaged in quests for meaning or caught in struggles of good and evil.
Religious language and imagery
For those unfamiliar with the world of comic books, let me provide three specific examples of the religious language and imagery that give rise to this curiosity. Within a month of my return to comic books as an adult, DC Comics began an eight week crossover series called Millennium. While major comic book characters often have their own individual monthly titles, companies regularly produce "crossover" series of limited duration that bring all of the heroes together, in one comic, to cooperate in averting some cosmic crisis. In the Millennium series, little blue creatures called Guardians, who had been assisting and guiding humans and superheroes, decided to depart for another realm, but before their departure they intended to select and train an elite group of people to serve in their place, to help lead humanity to higher levels of development. Evil forces attempted to thwart the process, which led to the kind of monumental battles that are standard for such superhero story lines. Yet the entire series was set in the context of a religious calling, with weekly episodes carrying titles such as The Chosen, The Teaching, and The Ascension. The cover of the Ascension issue depicted the "new guardians" literally rising in the air to a new plane of existence. Other crossover series also have carried religious sounding titles, including Armageddon 2001, Cosmic Odyssey, Final Night, and Genesis.
A second example arose from the mind and pen of legendary comic creator Jack Kirby. After long years with Marvel Comics, where he collaborated with Stan Lee in creating characters such as the Incredible Hulk, the Mighty Thor, the Fantastic Four and the X-Men, Kirby returned to DC Comics in 1970 to create an entire mythic universe, generally called Kirby's "Fourth World." Featuring comic book series titles like The New Gods, The Forever People, and Mr. Miracle, Kirby's mythic universe centred around a planet that literally had been blown in half. One resulting world, New Genesis, was led by Highfather, drawn as a majestic figure with a flowing robe, white hair and a beard. The contrasting evil world, Apokolips, was ruled by Darkseid and his parademons.
In one comic book story, during a truce between the battling planets, the leaders exchanged infant sons. Orion, originally Darkseid's son, became the leader of the "New Gods" on New Genesis, while Highfather's son, eventually freed from Darkseid, became the tormented Mr. Miracle. Kirby's mixture of science fiction with Biblical imagery was hardly subtle. Fourth World planets and characters continue to appear in DC Comics stories, reinterpreted by new writers and artists.
A third example is a pattern that emerges from the covers of comic books: the portrayal of superheroes in a crucifixion pose. I have begun a collection of such covers, which includes five of Batman, three each of Green Lantern and Green Arrow, one of Nightwing, and one of Wolverine, all published within the last decade. One Green Lantern cover even pictures three crucifix superheroes side by side, with one in a slightly more prominent position, replicating the familiar image of Jesus crucified beside two others. Some covers include a literal Latin cross; others portray the character tied to the front of a rocket, or to a crossbar of some sort, in an unmistakable crucifixion pose with arms outstretched and head bowed.
The scenes depicted on the covers do not always appear in the comic stories inside; the covers symbolize the stories inside, making the poses even more significant. Other covers, by the way, also suggest crucifixion but are ambiguous and might be interpreted in other ways, still religious. Green Lantern is depicted several times hovering in the air with arms outstretched, in what I would call an ascension pose; other characters with arms outstretched suggest Samson breaking his bonds when tied to temple pillars.
Most of these examples, and many of the references that follow, are from DC Comics, simply because they are the ones I read and know best. Because it is the oldest major continuing comic book company, with superheroes like Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman who virtually established the genre, I would argue that DC's characters remain the most influential in broader popular culture. However, in the narrower circle of comic book buyers, while DC remains a major player, two rival companies presently surpass DC in sales: Marvel, with heroes like Spiderman and the X-men, and Image, whose most successful character is Spawn.
I would contend that detailed discussion of the Marvel and Image universes, although distinctive in many ways, would substantially coincide with my comments here based upon DC references. All three companies are based in the English-speaking market, are located in the United States, with significant British and Canadian contributions, and with some editions available in other languages. Japanese comic books and animation are another story and merit separate consideration, not provided here.
Self-conscious use of symbolism
With a few examples before us, how can we explain all of these religious allusions in comic books? One first must recognize some preconditions for the presence of this religious language and imagery, historical developments in comic books that now make them appropriate for the self-conscious use of symbolism. One development has already been mentioned: the rising age of comic book readers. In what is called the Golden Age of comic books, the early years from 1938 through the 1940s, comic books targeted an audience of children approximately 7 to 12 years old. Comic books struggled in the 1950s, responding to critics and competing with the advent of television, but when their popularity rose again in the 1960s (with the emergence of Marvel Comics and superheroes with struggles and foibles, like Spiderman), the so-called Silver Age began to appeal to a more teenage or adolescent market. More recently, in the Modern Age (for want of a better term) comic books have added adult readers and lost some of the youngest.
The aging of the readership has contributed to the rise of comic books as collectibles, with comic book specialty stores, speculation, proliferating price guides, and boom and bust cycles. Even more important for our discussion, these changes have contributed to the perception of comic books as an art form, or at least the pretensions of an art form. In contrast to the anonymity of most comic book writers and artists in the early years, with almost all attention focused on the comic book character, each issue now carries a full list of credits, acknowledging the writer, penciller, inker, colorist, letterer, and editor. Many comic book readers choose their purchases on the basis of the writers or artists and their recognizable, distinctive styles, instead of choosing only the character (such as Batman or Captain America). The last page or two of most comic books include letters to the editor that discuss character development, artistic styles, and social issues raised by the stories. Along with markedly improved paper quality and printing processes, and the advent of novel-length comic books with hard covers, these developments contribute to the treatment of comic books as an art form, which in turn prompts a self-conscious use of symbolism not as apparent in the Golden and Silver Ages of comics.
Recognizing these preconditions, at least four explanations of the religious language and imagery in comic books might be offered. Three will be presented briefly, with some elaboration of the fourth.
1) Comic books constantly raid iconography from the general culture, playfully and, it might seem, indiscriminately. Scenes may parody a famous art masterpiece, or refer to a currently popular television programme, or picture certain world leaders. Thus, alongside the borrowing of symbols from the realms of popular culture, high art, politics, science, social issues, etc., it should be no surprise that comic books borrow religious images and terms as well.
2) Battles between good and evil, whether on individual or cosmic levels, provide the basic dramatic structure for most superhero tales. Religion provides obviously applicable language and imagery to express such contests between good and evil.
3) The humanizing of comic book superheroes, begun in the 1960s by Marvel with its portrayal of superheroes with foibles, has been heightened in the Modern Age by DC's recasting of almost all major characters, a tendency that has influenced the entire industry. Perhaps the most influential example was writer-artist Frank Miller's reinterpretation of Batman in the 1986 four issue mini-series "The Dark Knight Returns," examining the psyche of an obsessed vigilante in a story usually described as dark. (Movie critics who commented that the grim tone of the first Batman movie in 1989 was not like the comic books had not read the comic books recently.)
The result of such Modern Age reinterpretations is superheroes with personal struggles and self doubts, examining demons within, and engaging in quests for meaning. In such searches and struggles, characters sometimes turn to religious traditions, usually "exotic" (Eastern, Native American, obscure monastic orders) rather than institutionalized mainstream western religions. Even when explicit religious traditions do not arise in the stories, writers and artists still borrow images and phrases from religion, including traditional western religions, to symbolize the search. Terminology about being a prodigal, being born again, experiencing resurrection, or struggling with flesh and spirit fit well with the characters' introspection, struggle, and pilgrimage.
4) The comic book superhero is basically a redeemer figure. This claim is well argued by Robert Jewett and John Lawrence in their book The American Monomyth, which discusses what they see as a singular mythic pattern in American popular culture. According to Jewett and Lawrence, the classical Greek/Roman heroic monomythic pattern of initiation, where the hero ventures forth to overcome obstacles, matures, and returns to offer benefits to the community and reintegrate with it, has been revised or replaced in American culture by a quite different monomythic pattern. Rather than a tale of initiation, the common American mythic pattern is a story of redemption, found in old dime novels, movies, television, and yes, comic books.
In outline, this is the monomyth they detect repeatedly in American popular culture:
A community in a harmonious paradise is threatened by evil: normal institutions fail to contend with this threat: a selfless superhero emerges to renounce temptations and carry out the redemptive task: aided by fate, his decisive victory restores the community to its paradisal condition: the superhero then recedes into obscurity (p. xx).
Jewett and Lawrence write that the American monomyth secularizes the Judeo-Christian redemption dramas that have arisen on American soil, combining elements from the selfless servant who impassively gives his life for others and the zealous crusader who destroys evil. The supersaviors in pop culture function as replacements for the Christ figure, whose credibility was eroded by scientific rationalism. But their superhuman abilities reflect a hope of divine, redemptive powers that science has never eradicated from the popular mind (p. xii).
Jeffrey Lang and Patrick Trimble, in an article in the Journal of Popular Culture (Winter 1988) discussed the sort of humanization of superheroes we have mentioned and see it as a refutation of Jewett and Lawrence's claimed monomythic pattern. They suggest that Jewett and Lawrence failed to acknowledge "an evolution of the comic book superhero," either because it did not fit their pattern, or perhaps because the development was too recent to influence their writing. In any case, Lang and Trimble see the humanization process as a "progressive demythification," in which superhero characters lose their mythic stature (p. 167). Now, if that is true, how are we to interpret all of the crucifix images on the covers of Batman comic books?
Part of Lang and Trimble's argument is that the evolution of superheroes has moved beyond the American monomyth's supposedly singular pattern. I might agree, although it is not especially relevant here because we have not taken the space to discuss the American monomythic pattern in detail. My major objection to Lang and Trimble is their claim that the humanization of superheroes prompts a "demythification". It is, rather, a remythification, in which comparisons with Christ as a savior figure still work. In fact, they may work better. The symbolism of a Christ figure rests not only on his divinity but also on his humanity. Traditional Christian doctrine about Jesus Christ as both fully human and fully divine requires inclusion of the human side of the equation in order for the crucifixion to serve as atoning work. In other words, to serve as a Christ figure, one has to be vulnerable, which the humanized superheroes are.
Human figures among the superheroes
In my collection of comic book covers mentioned above, the superheroes who have been portrayed in crucifixion poses are precisely the most human figures in the DC comics pantheon. At the head of the list is Batman, who has never had superpowers, relying instead on detective abilities and extraordinary physical and mental training. In the celebrated "Knightfall," "Knightquest," and "KnightsEnd" storylines of 1993 and 1994, Batman's back was broken and the disabled hero required a replacement for more than a year. Bullets do not bounce off his chest; he is fully human, and he can be killed.
The symbolic contrast to Batman is the traditional Superman of more than fifty years who, kryptonite aside, was nearly invulnerable, and it was that very invulnerability that made him inappropriate as a Christ figure. Significantly, while I have five covers portraying Batman in a crucifixion pose, I had been unable to locate a crucifixion image of Superman, until recent developments brought important changes. In late 1992 DC Comics captured immense public attention with the "Death of Superman", prompting the best sales figures in the company's history. When Superman returned a year later he was a more vulnerable figure, and in a current storyline that has transformed him into an energy being, he is more vulnerable yet, especially when he takes human form as Clark Kent. Finally, within the last year, the first cover image of a crucifix Superman has appeared, and at least one story has played explicitly with crucifixion themes. Comic book superheroes, especially when humanized, are redeemer figures.
In sum, whether comic books tell yet another apocalyptic tale of cosmic battles between good and evil, or whether they focus on the heroes' personal crises and struggles for meaning, writers and artists regularly resort to religious language and imagery to frame the stories. In addition, the deep structure of the narratives, centred around redeemer figures, seems to touch upon yearnings for deliverance. In spite of claims about secularization in modern society, and many indications of disenchantment with traditional religious institutions, the power of religious images and language remains, as a resource for humanity's grappling with questions of purpose and destiny.
References
Jewett, Robert, and John Shelton Lawrence. The American Monomyth. Garden City, NY: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1977.
Lang, Jeffrey S., and Patrick Trimble. "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow? Examination of the American Monomyth and the Comic Book Superhero." Journal of Popular Culture 22:3 (Winter 1988), 157-173.
Bruce David Forbes is Professor of Religious Studies at Morningside College, Sioux City, Iowa, USA, and the co-editor of a forthcoming book on Religion and Popular Culture in America (University of California Press).
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