Wherein Joe talks about comic books, then compares them to his life…
My favorite hero died this week. Literally, my favorite superhero died this week, in a comic book.
Nightcrawler, aka as Kurt Wagner, longtime member of the Uncanny X-Men died in this week’s issue of a weekly crossover event occurring throughout all the x-books. Now I realize that to many of you this is an insignificant event. It affects your reality in no way, shape, or form. But his passing has marked my week. And this death has not moved me in a nerdy way {although I will freely admit that I have some fairly nerdy traits}, but in the way that stories are intended to move us.
Let me explain.
Nightcrawler, was one of Marvel’s premiere odd-looking mutants (He has blue fur, a prehensile tail, and resembles a demon, most of you will recognize him from X2). He epitomized the X-Men’s credo of ‘protecting a world that hates and fears them.’ However the truly remarkable (and perhaps the draw to make him my fan favorite) aspect of Nightcrawler’s character was his faith. He was written as a devout Catholic, whose moral compass often redirected the team or prevented them from succumbing to the likes of their adversaries. Thus in more recent story lines, Nightcrawler’s presence began to symbolize aspects of faith and morality. (Contrast this with a character like Wolverine who may be more apt to symbolize resilience or ferocity.)
He died saving a younger teammate in a beautiful 2 page spread. The art captured the depth of the scene and the words were few, save a prayer cited by the protagonist as he mustered his strength one last time for a final heroic act. Well written, fantastic art, my favorite character in one last hoorah (not that he’ll stay dead anyway, comic books bring back characters to life all the time), it all made for a moving read.
So why bother to post this on facebook? Why not blog about it on a nerd site where other geeks can enjoy (or rebuke) your review? Well because I want to expound upon my week in light of the above story. In light of what happens to a team when faith is killed.
I read Nightcrawler’s death on Wednesday (new comic day), and spent Wednesday evening sneaking into my old Scout camp with 3 of my old Scouting friends. We reminisced, caught up, and hiked the paths of our childhood. We all received our Eagle award together a 18 and we are all now 25 and adrift. It was a time of nostalgia, but also a present reminder of change, of the loss of innocence, and of the painful realities of the present.
After a late night, I woke to teach my last 7:45 class. I ended the class, threw up in the bottom floor restroom, and proceeded home to fight a newly contracted 24 hr- stomach flu. I spent the remainder of Thursday on my couch watching movies and praying for consistency (although this time I wasn’t asking for consistency in my life but in my stool).
Friday I felt better. Showered and shaved some. Taught my last class for the semester and again headed home. The finality of it all was again clear. I was done teaching at Akron for a time. I have no summer classes to teach and consequently no income coming from The U of A.
At home, the neighborhood kids were quick to rush my house. I played an adorable game of cards with some of the younger kids (kids not in elementary school) and then hosted my kitchen to 5 girls in South Street’s Girl Scout program so that they could prepare a meal for an event on Saturday.
As they cleaned-up and left, I headed to First Glance where I worked the door, then spent the rest of my time there updating my Myspace (which for the record I ONLY use to keep in contact with First Glance kids and staff) with Tom, one of the student leaders, as my guide.
It had been a long day. I was tired.
I drove a student home, then proceeded to Anne’s house for a well needed drink, movie, and pizza. We watched Good Will Hunting, it was wicked good (I’ve seen it before, but it’s always good) and a wicked good time, save a little teasing from Anne and Hillary about some of my relational difficulties.
I went home. Slept. Woke up early Saturday to drive to Cleveland to help my grandpa with yard-work. He is the primary caretaker of my grandmother now and (although doing a fantastic job for an 87 year old) needs some help. I pulled weeds, mowed the yard, then enjoyed some Chili together before I left.
My Grandma is doing better. But again the once figurative death of my favorite hero took on a literal reality as I spent time with my Grandma and lamented her ailing condition. (Although I will note as well, that my Grandma is equally as stubborn in her Alzheimer’s as she is into giving into any kind of frailty.)
I drove home. Played frisbee golf with a bachelor party of guys for Cody Swiger’s upcoming nuptials, then worked the entirety of the night at an after Prom for Solid Rock Sports.
I drove home, re energized by some assuredly unhealthy drink, read a somewhat crushing letter from a would-be-potential-more-than-friend, showered and realized that sleep wasn’t really an option. I had too much on my mind.
Nightcrawler’s dead. I’m more or less unemployed this summer. (That isn’t entirely true I have some options, but it feels more true than it is). My friends relationships are falling apart. I can’t start a relationship up to save my life.My days are spent hanging out with neighborhood kids or teens from Kenmore. I have no long term plan (and barely even a short term plan).
So I watched the sunrise. Or tried to, the early morn wasn’t much of a morn at all, more like an early drizzle. But birds were still chirping, and two robin-red-breasts traversed through my yard, searching for their morning meal. And I thought of sparrows and worrying and Matthew 10, and just couldn’t grasp it.
Of course I should worry. Birds just need to eat and shit on cars and feed their kids. I need to have a wife or something and a career and significance. I thought of Luke 9 and one of my favorite verses,
“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.”
And I thought aloud a secret thought that has haunted me for months: I don’t feel like my life has been saved much, rather in losing my life I feel like, well, a loser.
Like in the comics, faith had died.
(Let me quickly note here that I am clearly being melodramatic. I am not recanting my faith, rather I am doing the very thing that Jacob did before he entered the land promised to him, wrestling with God. I do not need a barrage of encouraging posts, this is a small aspect of what is presently going on in my spirit and it will change as my day changes and as God continues to work in me. I just needed to write this down, get it out of my head, and felt somewhat compelled to share it with anyone who cares to read it online, with which the exception of my Mom, I’m not quite sure who checks these things anyway)
Grace and Peace, one of these days.
