Death and Resurrection and How to Save the World

Of course it was a death and a resurrection; how else do you save the world?

That was my train of thought after seeing Avengers: Endgame, the most recent in the Avengers franchise.

We saw it last night at our military base theater, surrounded by enthusiastic fans (many of whom were also friends and neighbors).  The price was right ($25 for a family of 3 adults) and we made popcorn our dinner.  The movie started with the National Anthem, and ended with well-trained movie-goers waiting through the final credits for a bonus-scene that never arrived.  I’ve written before my impressions of the movie preceding this one, in which Thanos destroys the world.  I wanted to spend some time thinking about Endgame—this post will contain spoilers—because I found it somehow a slightly unworthy sequel.  Only slightly, and I think my disgruntlement is only because Endgame was a little too long, a little slow in spots, certainly more than a little dark (everyone was in a depressed and hopeless funk for a significant portion of the movie), and a little chaotic due both to the penchant for overwhelming special effects and fast-paced, large-scale violence.  My poor memory and my ignorance of the franchise was reinforced throughout—I enjoy the Avengers and Guardians movies, but am only vaguely familiar with several of the other plotlines (e.g, Agents of SHIELD) and certainly haven’t memorized major segments of the movies through frequent binge-watching—aint nobody got time for that!

I will start at the end and clarify my initial statement above.  The first sacrifice is that of the Black Widow, Natasha “Nat” Romanoff who fights Hawkeye for the necessary honor of self-sacrifice to obtain a soul stone—the same soul stone which Thanos killed Gamora to obtain.  But where Gamora’s murder was to bring about the death of many, Natasha’s sacrifice was to bring about their resurrection; where Thanos murders his daughter in blind devotion to his corrupt vision of peace-on-earth, Natasha sacrifices herself for the salvation of others, to include saving Hawkeye from the same sacrifice and allowing him to ultimately return to his family.  

The second sacrifice is that of Tony Stark—as always, the reluctant and snarky hero.  He grapples with the re-assembled soul-stones and successfully, finally destroys a time-traveling Thanos and his minions who are otherwise poised to destroy earth.  The superhuman effort kills Stark, who had previously entered into this Endgame reluctantly, desperately fearful of losing his beloved wife and child and the perfect happiness they—few among the grieving many—had so fortunately gained.  This of course makes Stark’s sacrifice that much more poignant—the pigheaded, selfish, almost egomaniacal Stark is portrayed as absolutely a doting husband and father, gently prodded to act on his heroic impulses by the wife who knows him best.

This sacrificial scene is preceded by a resurrection, the resurrection we all went to the theaters to see—that of the 50% of humanity, including so many beloved heroes and heroines snuffed out by Thanos. Again using the soul-stones, a unified Hulk/Bruce Banner—one who has successfully harmonized the best of his intellectual, level-headed Bruce with the strength of the Hulk into a charismatic, confident, muscled but in-control version of himself—uses them to wish back the lost 50%.  But before the impact of his efforts are visible—efforts which leave the Incredible Hulk incredibly crippled and in pain—Thanos arrives from the future via a portal opened by a treacherous version of Nebula-past.  Thanos declares that he now realizes his original plan was flawed and he now intends to completely destroy and rebuild the universe—a universe that would be “grateful.”  It is during this once-more-final fight between Thanos and the remaining Avengers that great, golden spirals of light begin to appear around our struggling heroes: the lost 50% return in glory and with vengeance to bring Thanos to his knees.

The cry of victory that went up in the theater during this scene was amazing.  These were “only” movie characters, but beloved ones none-the-less and characters taken away senselessly in the previous movie, leaving everyone defeated and grieving.  THIS was what everyone had come to see:  the resurrection and return of their dearly loved super-heroes. And not just returning, but returning in power and to continue in the fight against evil.  It was bizarrely like some scene from the Book of Revelation, or from Paul’s book to the Thessalonians where he says “…with a trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.  After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up in the clouds…”.

THIS is what we all hope for—the resurrection of the dead.  Whether we know it or not, whether we in our cynicism and scientism would scoff at the notion of the resurrection of the body, this is what we as human beings created in the image of an eternal God, long for.  We also rejoice with primal joy any time evil is defeated by the forces of good, and we in our minds and imaginations fight valiantly and sacrificially against the forces of evil.  In this way, we live out the image of our Creator and Redeemer whether consciously or unconsciously.

In my original discussion about Thanos and his twisted worldview, I compared his drastic measures of population control with the abortion industry and with our general rejection of life, fertility and family.  I originally hoped for some dramatic counter to this destructive worldview, one which is certainly present in our world albeit somewhat more subtly.  What I realized was that while there is no striking, obvious counterattack on Thanos’ worldview, there was an incredibly positive portrayal of the value of and joy in human relationships—especially family relationships, the love between parents and children and, somewhat by extension, the love among team-mates, siblings and friends.  

Consider all of these scenes….Hawkeye’s family on a sunny, every-day kind of day, counterpointed with his visceral grief when he realizes his family has all been stripped away from him; and later, the same wounds reopen when he just misses seeing them on his trip back in time.  Ant-Man/Scott Lang’s panicked search for his daughter’s name among the Vanished followed by their joyful reunion.  Thor’s final moments with his mother, as he comes from the future to confide his fears, his doubts and his grief to her one last time before her death.  The sweetly devoted dad-ly-ness of Tony Stark with his beloved daughter; and the simple, affectionate frankness between Tony and Pepper.  The grieving loneliness of Natasha, with no family of flesh and blood but with the bonds of brotherhood in the Avengers; she tells Hawkeye she never knew the name of her father, right before she dies on behalf of her blood-brothers.  Stark’s brief interaction with his father, where his father confides his simultaneous fear of fatherhood and his fierce devotion for his as yet unborn child; and Stark’s advice—brought back in time from father to son to father—that “no amount of money ever bought a second of time.”  The power of sisters finally united in love, as Gamora and Nebula defy their evil father.

And of course, the final scene, where Captain America goes back in time to return all of the soul stones to their rightful places in the course of history so as not to disrupt the flow of time.  Instead of returning when his mission was complete, he continues backward in time to join the love of his life in their rightful era.  His work saving the world done, he retires from superhero status into the private life of husband and (presumably) father.  We are left with the unshakeable impression that his life has been deeply satisfying, one filled with the simple pleasures of wife and child and home and peace and slow-dancing to the radio.

So we have sacrifice (several), we have resurrection (many) and we have not eternal life, but the good life.  The life we all sometimes forget to value until it is threatened or taken away.  The life described by the Teacher in Ecclesiastes in this way “[God] has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from the beginning to end.  I now that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do god while they live.  That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in his toil—this is the gift of God.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11-13).  And later, “Then I realized that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him—for this is his lot.  Moreover, when God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work—this is a gift of God.  He seldom reflects on the days of his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.”  (Ecclesiastes 5: 18-20).  Or again, “Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do.  Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil.  Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun…” (Ecclesiastes 9: 7-9a).  

The meditations of the Teacher in Ecclesiastes range all over—contemplating the meaning of life, of wisdom versus foolishness, of wealth versus poverty, of hard work versus sloth, of happiness and sadness.  His conclusion is ultimately that life is fleeting, but that God is good and that all good things come from Him—including all of the simple goodness-es which we take for granted, like family and children, wine and food, hard work and rest, peace and joy.  I felt like Avengers: Endgame both celebrated heroic self-sacrifice, and also rejoiced in the simple pleasures of family and peace.  

As a Christian who believes that God created the world and it is very good, and that He still sustains all of creation by His power and in love—I do not fall into the trap of a Thanos worldview, once which fears for overpopulation and the destruction and exhaustion of natural resources.  I can operate with love for family and for neighbor, striving for peace, willing to sacrifice self for the good of others but not with the drastic desperation which destroys life in the name of saving it. 

I said when I originally discussed Avengers: Infinity War that Thanos’ disintegration of 50% of all life would be undone.  I predicted that there would be “….to borrow a Narnian phrase—some deeper magic?  A deeper magic which will reverse the actions of Thanos and save the world in a better way, a way that is more just and righteous?  If there is—and I suspect there will be—it will be response to the very deep and abiding human hope for good to triumph over evil.”  And I believe that I was right.  The deeper magic may look like quantum-physics and the triumph of science; it may involve the harmonization of raw emotion with logic and intellect (embodied in the Hulk); it may rejoice in the innovation and tenacity of humanity; but ultimately, that deeper magic relies upon the willingness of good to sacrifice itself for the good of humanity against all the forces of darkness; as a result of that sacrifice (with another Narnian quote) “..Death itself would start working backward.”  The Avengers went back in time to reverse Thanos’ death-plan; by the sacrifices portrayed, they brought back to life the 50% who had been destroyed; and they brought not the victorious reign of a new empire, but they brought peace and the simple comforts of life and family.