Throughout history, there have been many and varied proposals as to what constitutes a superman. The common denominator that gives meaning to the word is the human being at his absolute best.
This is an intriguing thought and has captured the imagination of all those who aspire to the highest.
Jacques Maritain has made the case that Aristotle was the first to propose the concept of a superman. He argues that man cannot attain his summit by himself. This goal, writes Maritain, “must be sought in something other than man and nobler than man, to which he may adhere and which may raise him above himself.”
“Aristotle reasons,” he continues, “that the activity of God, which surpasses all others in blessedness, must be contemplative; and of human activities, therefore, that which is most akin to this must be of the nature of happiness.”
For Aristotle, it is through humility, not pride, that man reaches his loftiest goal.
Toward the end of his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle makes the following statement:
If reason is divine, then, in comparison with man, the life according to it is divine in comparison with human life. But we must not follow those who advise us, being men, to think of human things, and, being mortal, of mortal things, but must, so far as we can, make ourselves immortal, and strain every nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us; for even if it be small in bulk, much more does it in power and worth surpass everything.
When St. Thomas Aquinas treats of contemplation and the perfect life, he remains faithful to all the formal principles laid down by Aristotle. Aquinas does go a step beyond, however, in identifying the object of contemplation as the God of Love.
The Stoics borrowed from the Cynics and derived Hercules as their superman. This image, maintained in the motion picture industry, might be called the “wisdom of muscle.” This notion — that man can pick himself up by his bootstraps — reached its apogee in the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, who gave us the word übermensch (superman).
“Love yourself through grace,” he wrote, “then you are no longer in need of your God, and you can act the whole drama of Fall and Redemption yourself.” For Nietzsche, man needs nothing more than himself to reach his ultimate perfection.
Cartoonist Joe Shuster, along with writer Jerry Siegel, created the Superman comic book character in 1933. He was known as the “Man of Steel,” who was “faster than a speeding bullet” and could “leap tall buildings in a single bound.” He was also Clark Kent, the “mild-mannered reporter” who worked for The Daily Planet in the fictional city of Metropolis.
Readers could identify with him because he looked and acted like a human being. But then, when a crisis arose, he metamorphosed into Superman. He could be admired, but he could not be imitated. He came from outer space, the last son of the dying planet Krypton. The popularity of Superman spread from the comic strip to the radio, Broadway, television, and finally to movies.
In the Disney movie, Hercules, the eponymous character is half man and half god. This fusion of natures also appears in the Terminator films, in the cyborg who is part human and part machine.
The X-Men, a team of genetically mutated superheroes, appear in comic books published by Marvel Comics. Their trading cards feature creations of raw power — hybrids of humanity and electronics, or humans and machines. Man is displayed not as a loving creature but one of extreme power, which is necessary to compete and vanquish the ferocious humanoids. The more powerful a character becomes, however, the less it is likely to love and the more likely it is to perish in a titanic struggle.
Our culture of skyscrapers, supersonic jets, superhighways and smart bombs creates a collective image of power. Inevitably, its citizenry looks to power as a supreme value and tries to emulate it in one way or another. Superman continues to have appeal because he represents a power far beyond what human beings can attain on their own.
Power is attractive because it can be employed without delay. The Sermon on the Mount, however, did not bless the powerful. It blessed those who possessed certain qualities or experiences that made them fit for the Kingdom of heaven.
Paradoxically, Christopher Reeve, who played Superman on the silver screen, was not taken in by the hero he popularized.
“Your body is not who you are,” he once remarked. “The mind and spirit transcend the body. A hero is someone who, in spite of weakness, doubt or not always knowing the answers, goes ahead and overcomes anyway.”
Venerable Fulton Sheen was once introduced to the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar. He was deeply unimpressed and pointed out that Jesus Christ is not a media figure, but the Son of God and our Savior.
The love of power is the reverse of the power of love. Love is, in reality, the renunciation of power over another. The person who contemplates God with a humble heart is a more complete human being — a “superman” in this qualified sense — than one who has unlimited power at his disposal.
In an attempt to return people to reality and common sense, Maritain states, “The true supermen are the saints: true contemplation is not that of Aristotle, for it presupposes grace and the love of God.”
