Until he’s prompted for more details, my four-year-old son’s report about his day at preschool always contains the same three elements: 1) If they had indoor or outdoor recess today, 2) what game he played at recess, (My favorite report was the day he said they played “salad.” “Salad?” “Yeah, we used leaves and pretended to make a salad. Then we played police officers.” “Okay then.”) and 3) If he got in trouble at recess that day. His most frequent recess infraction involves throwing wood chips. (For the love, child, what’s so great about throwing wood chips? Stop it already.)
I love that he feels safe enough with me to tell me when he messes up. And my policy (so far) is that he never gets in trouble at home for something that happened at school. This is because, first of all, his awesome teachers have school under control, but more importantly, because I want his unguarded honesty with me to last as long as possible. Preferably a lifetime. We do talk about what happened, however, thinking through how that made all the people involved feel, and what he could do differently in the future. (We have also written the occasional apology note or created an apology video when it seemed appropriate.)
This week, my son told me he got in trouble for hitting a friend at recess. When pressed for further details, he explained that he and his regular crew of recess friends were playing Superheroes, an ever-popular game among preschool boys, and he was the Hulk.
“Mom. I was just being the Hulk,” he said. “When you’re the Hulk you have to Hulk Smash the bad guys and stop them.”
I paused and looked at him in the rear view mirror. “Honey, when you’re hurting someone, you aren’t stopping the bad guys. You are BEING the bad guy.”
He blinked at me.
“Superheroes help people,” I explained. “They are the good guys (and gals) because they are doing good things. When they hurt other people, even if those people are the bad guys, they aren’t being superheroes anymore.”
It’s a hard lesson to learn at the age of four. I see many adults struggling with the concept. There’s no title or position you can hold, no reputation you can acquire, or party or organization you can join that automatically makes everything you do good. A wrong choice is a wrong choice, no matter who makes it.
The world isn’t divided into “good guys” and “bad guys,” despite the story that comic books and modern politics want to sell you. You are only being a good person when you are doing good things. Things like showing love and kindness, practicing generosity and hospitality, and extending mercy and grace. If you do 99 wonderful things in a row, and then make 1 horrible, harmful choice, that action doesn’t suddenly become okay just because it was done by someone who has done 99 good things. It’s still wrong.
When a political leader protects the rights of one vulnerable group of people, but allows the bombing of another, it’s still wrong. When a country engages in acts of torture, even under the auspices of national security, it’s still evil. If a religious leader brings hope to thousands, but alienates his own family, that’s never okay. If an entrepreneur creates a useful and beautiful product, but hurts the factory workers or the environment in the production process, the harm is still real. If social activists work to bring positive changes, but silence minority voices in the process, it’s still causes lasting damage.
The good news is that the reverse is also true. If you make 99 bad, hurtful decisions in a row (something that would most certainly get you labeled as a Bad Guy), but then make one authentic good choice, that one action still counts. Will it undo the 99 harmful things you’ve done? Unlikely. Will people automatically trust you and rally around you? They probably shouldn’t. But choosing compassion over fear, or kindness over indifference, is never a wasted action. You can choose to be the Good Guy at any crossroads, even if it’s a path of bad decisions that led you to that particular decision point. And that truth is a deep and powerful grace.
We all want to be the heroes in our own story, and often, the quickest way to to this feeling is to cast yourself as the good superhero, fighting against a swarm of villains. But life doesn’t work that way. There IS both Good and Evil in the world, but they are each contained in all of us. We all have potential to bring light to everyone around us, but we must never forget we always have the capacity to amplify the darkness as well.
The true superheroes are the ones who relentlessly do the next right thing, even when they know that their position or reputation might give them a pass, or even a mandate, for a poor decision. They chose love and peace, even when it’s unpopular or inconvenient.
The true superheroes are the ones who are unafraid to praise the good that is done by people or groups with whom they normally find themselves at odds. They know that acknowledging goodness and truth from any source only brings more goodness into the world.
Our true allies are not the people that claim the same beliefs or embrace the same team. They are those who act in ways that make the world a more compassionate, welcoming place. Jesus called those people our neighbors.
But whether you think of these people as neighbors, good guys (and gals), or superheroes, the most important thing is not how you label one, it’s that you set your mind, body and spirit on becoming one.
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