Compassion for Unlikely Heroes
I could tell you about the time my Tata Pablo was buried alive, trapped in a copper mine collapse. I could tell you about the journey my maternal grandparents took, leaving their middle-class existence in the Midwest to try and launch a new kind of incarnational ministry on the U.S. southern border—full of trials and ending with something of a whimper. Or the story of how my Nana Idolina left school at just seven years old to care for her siblings and would always long to return for education. Maybe someday I’ll share those with you–they are family stories that the Gómezes tell to remind ourselves of where we’ve come from and to see God’s faithfulness at work even in the most challenging circumstances.
We all long to be part of a bigger story—to know that we’re part of something greater than ourselves. Who among us hasn’t sensed the stirring for adventure and purpose? In the small and still moments just before sleep, we can sometimes hear the niggling whisper of, “There must be more than this.” Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces reveals how deeply rooted this longing to be part of a bigger story is within humanity[1]. Each of the family stories above echoes the arc laid out by Campbell—at least when they’re told in the fullest and most compelling ways.
While Campbell might say the story of Christ reveals or echoes the metanarrative of the Hero’s Journey[2], one could argue it is actually the truest, fullest fulfillment of that story–one that every other mythology points to. We read that God has “set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end” (Ecc. 3:11, NIV). If so, our longing for this story is imparted in us by God as part of the gift of our humanity. Perhaps this is a sacred invitation to participate in that greater story and receive its treasures.
One of the elements that struck me in Campbell’s work is the thresholds that must be crossed—moments where there is no turning back and everything changes, often in a way that brings greater complexity. I’m processing how, as leaders and doctoral researchers, when we invite people into transformation, we are inviting them to cross thresholds of understanding[3]. The struggles inherent in engaging with threshold concepts might look like tests, require helpers, and result in emerging with the concept in such a way that they can share it with their world. I have found this a beneficial frame in appreciating the inherent disorientation that happens when we invite people into these thresholds. Threshold concepts are, in some ways, little hero’s journeys for those willing to traverse them. This changes how I invite others into and journey along with them in their liminal spaces. I think it helps awaken compassionate curiosity toward the one on the journey—it is a challenging, sometimes dark journey where we need true friends.
A point of tension for me is that in interacting with Campbell’s monomyth, we may be tempted to see ourselves as the main character. No doubt, we all have been and will again (and again!) be called upon to play heroic roles in the story we’re a part of, but we aren’t the Hero of the Story. Neither are we the only ones walking the journey; those we do life with, those we serve and lead and call to more, are each themselves on their own journeys in this grand narrative. This again invites compassionate curiosity and requires us to move outside of our own story to fully participate with others.
To be wholehearted in our participation in the story God is writing is certainly the invitation, but with it comes the need to recognize, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Cor 13:12, NIV). I wonder how much holding on to faith, hope, and love (the virtues we are pointed toward on the heels of 1 Cor 13:12) allows us to walk with open-handed joy as we traverse our heroic journeys, even as we trust they are part of the bigger story God is telling in the world, though we may not be able to see it.
When my Tata, Nana, and Grandma each passed away, I was grateful for their stories. Theirs are the stories of unlikely heroes–stories of risk, loss, rescue, and redemption. They are stories that live on beyond them and point to the living hope of the Hero who has offered us the greatest rescue and won the fullest redemption.
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[1]Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Third edition. Novato, CA: New World
Library, 2008.
[2] “All the Gods Are Within Us.” Joseph Campbell Foundation. January 24, 2023. Video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KULwoop94cQ.
[3] Land, Ray, Jan H. F. Meyer, and Michael T. Flanagan, eds. Threshold Concepts in Practice. (Rotterdam: Sense Publishers, 2016), xii.
About the Author
Jeremiah Gómez
I get to be Sarah's husband and Jubilee's and Zechariah's dad. I also get to serve as lead pastor at Trinity Church, a dynamic church in the Midwest where we're diligently seeking to Love God, love others, live sent, and be transformed together in community. I love the privilege of working across differences, championing healing and reconciliation in many forms.9 responses to “Compassion for Unlikely Heroes”
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Jeremiah,
I always appreciate how you connect the reading with a personal story and the doctoral process. Thank you for that. You make an important distinction that we are not the main characters, while at the same time, Campbell suggests that anything greater than ourselves is a myth.
How do you engage with individuals who see present life as “Eden” with nothing more to be experienced? Thus, they become the main characters of the only story they know…which is their own.
Thanks, Darren –
It’s been helpful for me to track that what *I* might mean by “myth” (a somewhat idiomatic way of talking about a grand, made-up story) is different than how Campbell uses the term (more about locating ourselves in the human story and recognizing our worldview isn’t formed in a vacuum). In that way, what’s outside of ourselves is part of mythos.
As far as interacting with people living out Main Character Syndrome, that’s always tough. If I have the luxury of focused conversation with them, I have found good, open-ended questions about how they are connecting with others and what the gift of their presence may mean in a reciprocal way. Conversations about legacy have also seemed fruitful–even if “this” is all there is, very few people want to be remembered as self-focused and self-advancing but to be celebrated for what they gave to the world… which in many ways requires giving ourselves away in community.
Darren and Jeremiah, I want to jump into the conversation on main character syndrome.
Worship helps us experience who we are in the story and resets our focus on God as the main character. It helps us stay grounded in the now and not-yet kingdom. Then, for people with main character syndrome, is there something about helping them live in the not-yet through worship that enables them to experience God? Conversion comes not through mental ascend but through experience with God. What do you think?
Robert, Great connection. Even as followers of Jesus, we can slip back into an active mentality that we are the main character. I think you are correct that worship resents the hierarchical order.
I am not sure that I can wrap my mind around helping one with a Main Character Syndrome through worship. It seems as though there would be a liminality to that, and without crossing the threshold, they are only mimicking. Hence, not truly worshiping?
Robert – Yes! Worship is such an essential part of seeing God for who he is and us for who we are. I do believe inviting those with a main character focus into a corporate worship is something that can have great benefits, though the rub is that if we are inviting them for the secondary benefits of worship (rather than the person and presence of God), it begins to feel like something counterfeit.
I say “corporate worship” because, for many of us, we think of so much in terms of individual engagement– worship in community and communion help keep us aware of how dependent we are on God for all things, and how much we need each other… including in the next step of our journey. I think this is a bit of why John ends his first epistle with a haunting directive, “Dear children, keep yourselves from idols” (1 Jn 5:21, NIV)–we are quick to fall into false worship.
While mental ascent is not what is required for a conversion, there does seem to be some requirement for a renewal of mind–“be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Rom 12:2, NIV) is the precursor to discerning God’s will, at least in the instance of Romans 12. Both necessitate the presence and power of Holy Spirit at work and invite us into something bigger than self.
Jeremiah, I was glad to see your reference to the work of the Holy Spirit in the transformation process. I think this is the key! We are both made in the image of God (and consequently inherit something of his hero character) and yet we are not God ourselves (and in need of the Holy Spirit’s renewal and revival). What I find remarkable is that we will be like him when we see him as he is (1 John 3:2)! Our holiness, on His terms. As leaders, I think this is a key integration for us: what things are ours to steward, and what things are the Lord’s to lead. This reminds me of Camacho’s approach to coaching.
I notice that a number of your blog posts reference your family and history. They must be very special people. Thank you for sharing the stories with us!
Thank you, Joff. I have definitely faced (and failed!) in the temptation to carry what should be cared for–to try to “own” what is might to steward. Your reminder of “our holiness on his terms” is great–and I appreciate how John indicates this is how we can live unashamed and confident as we journey with Christ.
I’m a big fan of including personal story when it’s appropriate–it seems to help humanize the content, and as we read this week, metaphor can be powerful! Thanks for your kind feedback!
Jeremiah-
It is cute to watch children run through the house imitating their favorite superheroes. It is insanity when a grown man wears underpants on the outside of his sweatpants and tries to fly off the carport. Perspective is critical.
Campbell says a bit about this perspective on page 49. The hero of a fairytale, “achieves a domestic, microcosmic triumph.” That sounds a bit like the thrill of balancing a checkbook.
In Mining for Gold, Camacho observes that more of us identify with Gideon than with Moses, Esther, or Paul. I think that’s OK. With Gideon, there is no question where his power comes from. He’s scared, and yet he answers the call. That is a heroic role model.
Rich – Thanks for your comment!
Now I feel like I have to rethink some weekend roof-jumping plans ;).
I think the operative word in your quote from Campbell is “triumph”–something that changes the closest-in parts of the world, but it is still a triumph. I agree Gideon is a great heroic role model, along with the others you mention. Interestingly, I think it’s safe to say none of them were looking to be a hero, but they responded to the call of God in their unique circumstances and chose to trust him in their spaces of challenge and adventure. I suppose the invitation is, in part, to make ourselves available to what God may direct us into and trust him even when we would rather hide.