My father was a military man, and he was rarely home. Every time he would come for a vacation, my mom would be busy cleaning and ironing his uniform while I had a chance to see a movie with him. I especially loved those action Superman movies.
The story was not as important to me as the hero, who was typically a man, a fighter who confronted evil in one way or another. He was tall, handsome, audacious, and determined to win. He had higher aspirations for life than ordinary people, and supernatural power was a hallmark. He would respond fearlessly to some injustice and free others from danger by performing mighty exploits. Towards the movie's end, this hero usually overcame, good prevailed over evil, and the hero was rewarded and glorified.
My dad would take me for an ice cream treat in a bistro when the movie was over.
"What's for you, cub?" the waitress would ask me.
"Just the usual," I would answer like a man.
My father would always order for himself a strong drink, explaining to me that he needed to clear his throat. I would sit there, all excited from the movie and even more because my father was sitting right next to me. I was proud of him. He was like a superman in a movie, a tough guy, a real man! Usually, after a few gulps, my father would share with me about his service in the military, and I would always be so eager to listen. "You've seen that hero in a movie?" He would shoot his question at me and go straight to the point. "My job is to produce those guys. I teach my soldiers to mobilize their potential and develop their fighting skills. I instruct them to boost their strength and not shrink in the face of danger, overcome the challenges, cause things to happen and reach the heights. I train them to be tough and realize their great destiny. Otherwise, they will be crushed or towed by their enemies into exile or expelled from real life. This world is not for dwarfs; you cannot afford the luxury of not growing." These were the highlights of my childhood years.
One day my father came home and announced that his regiment had moved to another part of the country and that we would live far away from there.
The years passed. Now I was just about the age to enlist in the army when I traveled to visit the town where I grew up. Among other places, I entered a bistro, where my father would take me after movies. It has been a long time. I was tall, strong, and muscled; nobody would call me a chick or a cub like before. Suddenly, I heard someone calling:
"Hey, is it really you? What a surprise! You've missed us, ah?"
I stooped to see the man talking to me but couldn't recognize him. He invited me to join him for a drink and started: "You don't remember me, but I sure do. A few years ago, you came here with your dad, who was in the military."
"Right. I was a kid then."
"Yes, you've grown. I still remember the stories your father shared about his soldiers. I bet you want to be a hero like he is. Are you gonna join the army soon?"
"Exactly."
"You don't seem to be very excited about it. I remember how you loved those superman adventures."
"It's true, but I'm unsure if I'm ready to be one."
"What is it you fear? Your father's expectations? Do you think he will denounce and rebuke you if you don't live up to them?"
"How could you see that? I thought those fears were well concealed."
The older man drank some more. "Today, I'm a gardener, but I've been around," he continued. "I served as a tracker during the war. I've learned to recognize people by their footprints."
"You mean, by the marks of their boots on the ground?"
"Also. But a footprint can be any mark of their passing that they leave behind them. Those marks can tell a lot about a person, but tell me about your dilemma, would you?"
"When I was little, I've learned that there are only two possible ways to live your life: you are either a superman hero or a coward, and I've seen those. They are usually underdeveloped, like dwarfs and stutterers, and ridiculed daily. They are limited in every possible way, never initiate anything, being only swept along into the agendas of others. They are shapeless and flexible in everyone's hands; by themselves, they can only slide down the hill; my father would classify them as 'cuttings of a tree.' I don't want to be one of them."
"You surely don't look like one," he added.
"Well, here's the thing, I don't want to be a tough guy either. As you've said, I have seen how they truly are, footprints. They sure boost themselves physically and mentally to overcome, but I've seen them being rude and vulgar, acting violently, and engaging in plunder. I've seen them behaving very arrogant and abusive to those not defined as one of them, especially the weaker ones. Their marks are so disgusting, and I don't want to be one of them, not even for some higher cause, nor for the sake of a great destiny that my father always told me about!"
He paused, then nodded his head. "I see what you mean. The ideal superman is a macho guy, tough and arrogant, clear black and white pattern, no shades allowed. If you don't fit this pattern, you're a wimp and cannot be defined as a real man, right?"
"How do you know? Did you watch those movies?" I wondered.
"No, but I've been around," he said again, "and I've seen that men, indeed not less than women, love to show off and impress one another. For that reason, they create all those behavior patterns, like costumes in a show. This image can be attractive, especially for a tender young boy.
Chasing to embody this superman's image, boys start to imitate the manners of the "tough guy." He must follow that pattern precisely; tears are not allowed, and he may be ridiculed as weak for his compassion. If he continues, all of that must be clipped and cut off to the root. As life unfolds, they can easily get carried away, their inflamed ego being their primary drive, constantly feeling an urge to be on top in every situation at whatever cost. They assume themselves as superior to others, the so-called "purebred." From there are derived the violence and abuse, you've mentioned.
Once filled to overflowing, it is no small effort to contain it. It grows into a movement, and a war breaks out. This superiority drive revolves into excess, bursting out like a volcanic eruption. When the explosion is on its way, the pressure may rise so high that it becomes beyond control. Its destructive lava swallows everything on its way, sweeping away so many lives. Millions are dying in agony as a result of that. What is left? History books and names organized in archives in alphabetical order and monuments of heroes, who performed mighty exploits but details are scratched away."
"But how can I respond to this challenge as a man? I don't want to be drawn to one side or the other. I feel a foreigner to both of them."
"These distinctions are superficial, they only deal with the external elements, but you can change your approach and look at the core instead. You will find a different range of choices there below the surface."
"How can I do that?" I asked, perplexed.
"You must go back to the basics and redefine what a real man is. The story about David, for example, was a real discovery for me and marked my life as a warrior. It happened back when Saul was a king over Israel and David was yet a little shepherd boy, the youngest in the family; his task was to tend his father Jesse's sheep. One day war broke out, and David's brothers joined the army and went to fight. The enemy's army leader was a giant named Goliath, who was much bigger and taller than ordinary people; he was extreme and unapproachable, rude, tough, and inspiring fear. His army was proud to have a warrior like him. Goliath was their hero.
Every day he would come out to the battle line in the valley to mock and curse King Saul and his soldiers. He was demanding a man from Saul's army to come to fight with him one on one."
"So, who was that man of valor and courage?"
"All the soldiers were afraid to face Goliath; they ran from him, wailing in terror. The same story continued until one day, little David came to visit his brothers in the army camp and heard the giant's threats.
'I will go,' he said to King Saul. 'I'm not afraid to confront him.'
He stood his ground when other soldiers and his brothers started to ridicule him. Compared to other soldiers, David was small, young, and insignificant. He didn't appear to be tough, but obviously, he had everything needed to fight Goliath and end that abuse outbreak. He courageously confronted Goliath and killed him; his hidden secret was his prior experience."
"Of killing giants?" I interrupted.
"You may say that. As a young shepherd boy, he assumed responsibility for the flock of sheep entrusted to him and courageously protected his territory. Whenever a lion or bear broke through the borders to steal one of his sheep, he fought like a hero and overcame. That's why confrontation with Goliath was not extraordinary for David; he simply continued the natural course of his life, protecting his territory, and removing just another obstacle in front of him. This kind of man you want to have around, someone who knows who he is and will not panic in the face of danger. David possessed an inner strength, which became obvious to everyone in a time of need."
"I guess some people have it and others don't." I pondered.
"No, everyone has it," he assured me. "You see our Creator has a big barn of grain and plants in the garden of our lives a grain of greatness. This grain is the essence of inner strength and valor. It carries the best possible pattern for your life as a reward, but it takes time to take shape and materialize to bridge the beginning and the end; you need to embrace the growing process."
"What do you mean?" I still didn't understand.
"David saw this grain of greatness planted in his garden and understood that his life has a high value in God's eyes. This value became the focal point of all his gardening; it helped him overcome every challenge.
David was fighting his daily battles, one after the other. No one saw his victories, but David was not concerned about being seen. The process of developing inner strength doesn't happen in front of others. Same with the plants: the essential growth happens underground, in the roots, which empower the whole plant to burst forth. It works for everyone. The battles you win in your secret private life are those that make you strongest. By winning many underground battles, he became a mighty man of valor, strong on the inside. This inner strength solidifies your entire being, and even your scars heal quickly."
"Ah, the men talk again!" dropped the waitress as she passed by. She turned to me with a big smile and affirmed, "Having a man around requires someone who knows how to wash smelly socks!"
"It's also true" -- the older man looked at the waitress as she was walking away and added -– this one is a true woman of valor, but that's another story."
He took out an old book from the inner pocket of his coat and handed it to me, saying, "I want you to keep this. I fought many battles, and this book was my backup manual through all of them. It speaks about David and many other men and women, who lived extraordinary lives, having the greatness of the Almighty engraved on their hearts."