Superman + Palestine

Have movies become secular khutbahs?

If you haven’t already heard, the new Superman movie is all about the ongoing occupation and colonization of Palestine. Whether that’s just subtle or undeniable depends on how you understand the movie and where your politics stand (like, does mass murder offend you?) The times are changing and the culture is, too. But a lot of our conversation about movies has to do with a decadent sameness.

They’ve become depressingly derivative: Everything is a sequel of everything.

Once upon a time, “in the good old days,” we had fresh films, like the original Jurassic Park, or early Star Wars, or the first Back to the Future, and now we just have the umpteenth iteration of whatever franchise we haven’t seen in a few months, an alternating ping-pong of Marvel and DC, with even Pixar reduced to redundancy, and Disney too doing live action versions of the same dang thing.

While waiting for Jurassic World to begin, looking around at a crowded theatre, watching grown men enter in full-on dinosaur gear, a different thought occurred to me. What if movies are all the same because we go to masjid, church or synagogue less? What if the silver screen has become the secular temple?

Photo by Yulia Matvienko on Unsplash

Jurassic World: Once More Unto the Beach

Movies have been on my mind a lot recently. Over at Avenue M, Joey (from Bespoken Live) and I just interviewed Dr. Steve Brusatte, who first came to my attention with his best-seller (deservedly so!): The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs. Steve, a fellow Midwesterner, a Catholic, and a scientist, is also the paleontology consultant for the Jurassic World franchise. Not the kind of conversation you expected?

That’s part of why we started Avenue M.

Tyrants and Tyrannosaurs

In fact, the family went to see Jurassic World when Abu (that’d be me) managed to score last-minute tickets for good seats at a great local theater on opening night. I’m glad we got to go together: A movie like Jurassic World, after all, has to be watched on a big screen.¹ There was a nod to America’s changing culture there, too; Oscar winner Mahershala Ali is so good that, even in an action movie, his presence dominates.

But, of course, Jurassic World is a reboot—with a very familiar storyline. It’s also scored half a billion dollars. Why do we people pay so much to see something so familiar?

Now, humans need ritual. We require our core ideas and convictions reinforced. We have to be reminded of who we are, why we are, and what we’re meant to do. We must be prevented from rising too high — and saved from crashing too far down. Over and over again, as long as we’re alive, and in order to feel alive. We should have this more than we should have novelty, though we need that, too.

But back when we had the (allegedly) more unexpected films, most Americans went to a house of worship regularly. They got those rituals, reminders, and grand storylines, which made life meaningful and purposeful, in their daily lives.

Back then, most of us engaged in shared, collective activities, like church, sports, concerts, and more, which also were free from constant distractions. These days, though, we don’t have many shared experiences and even those that we do are distorted by interruptions. Is it coincidental then that among the few collective experiences that still bring us together happen to function almost like religion?

Yes, there are more and more variations on the same silver screen theme, and there’s only so much you can do with any one franchise, but maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. All of us know, collectively, that we are part of a huge nation and sense ourselves connected to fellow humans like never before.² Yet when do we ever feel this in a substantive way? Sure, the overwhelming inequality we suffer under means huge conglomerates try to distort and even monetize our alienation.

Our alienation from each other and from our nature, which demands purpose.

A week ago, I was talking to an old friend before Friday prayers (jumu‘ah) and he mentioned that one of his sons had become deeply alienated from even his friends, his school, and community because of what he saw every day from Gaza. I know this is hardly an isolated occurrence; even adults who are strong people, and strong in faith, are struggling—of course, what we go through cannot hold a candle to what the people of Gaza endure, may God give them justice and security.

Yet the conversation lingered in my mind for another reason too. See, this young man had become deeply skeptical of America too, in ways that frankly lots of Americans, far beyond our immediate faith community, have too.³

Conversely, what this young man may not have realized is that what many American Muslims have is what many Americans lack for. (Perhaps this goes for all faith communities, but I can only speak to mine.) Maybe the idea of reproducing the same movie again and again, with the same characters, again and again, with only minor, market-tested variations, feels silly, but then again, maybe at some subconscious level, plenty of people are drawn to that… because where else do they find that?

And you need to find that—somewhere! It’s who we are as a species.

Every day, I pray the same prayers the blessed Prophet, peace be upon him, did—and my own ancestors did. I’m daily reminded I am a link in a chain, as hard as that can sometimes be. I visit overflowing mosques. I’m surrounded by kids when, apparently, there’s a birth dearth. I live in a web of faith, meaning, community… and youth. During last week’s sermon, three little kids decided to do a tawaf around the perimeter of this musalla—one of them rocking a Captain America shirt. Not only did nobody mind but nobody even really looked up. A huge percentage of people had little kids and we got it: it’s summer break, and not everyone has childcare, and what’s the alternative?

A masjid that’s dead, lifeless and cold?

When people knock what movies have become, I wonder if there’s not a deeper truth alongside corporate conservatism. Sure, I’d love to have novelty on the silver screen, although of course there’s plenty of other places to go for more surprising storylines. I’m also excited that there’s a reference to the gravest injustice of our time — or, at least, the gravest injustice America and our elected elites are complicit in — in a blockbuster movie, which is a sign of progress. And an inflection on a ritual.

Like a khutbah, which hews to the same format, but grows to reflect its community.

Some people say, when we as a country began to lose faith, we shifted that need for commitment to politics, with predictably horrifying results. I wonder if our entertainment culture also reveals the loss of faith. If we have nowhere to put our need for ritual, connection, and transcendence, still it doesn’t disappear. We need collective rituals, rituals that bind us together.

Maybe that need pops back in a series of sequels, yearning to produce meaning; we might not believe in God like we used to, but maybe if we can merge the Justice League, the Jedi and Tolkien’s legendarium again and again and again, they’ll ignite in some kind of atomic process, which we can gather around and find the warmth, nourishment and community that of course only deep faith can provide and sustain.

Go back to the masjid, in other words. Or, at least, pray regularly together in your house if the masjid isn’t available, welcoming or sufficient. If enough people do that enough, we might also start having better movies. That’s no judgment on Superman, which seems to be earning in superheroic numbers too. At least the filmmakers had the courage to begin to ask a question every American politician should.

Because if right and wrong are universal, then what would happen had Kal-El landed in Grozny, or Urumqi, or Gaza? If God, morality and virtue cannot convince us of that, then maybe the undying and invincible alien son, raised in Kansas, can help. And maybe in that there’s a question for a future halaqa: Is seeing a nod to Palestine in a Hollywood film a sign of progress or not?

HouseKeeping

Speaking of future halaqas, I’ll give five stars and more to Christopher Hayes’ brilliant The Sirens’ Call, a stunning study of attention, commodification and its effects on the human soul. I didn’t know what to expect when I picked up the book but I can confidently say it’s been one of the most insightful and even spiritual reads I’ve consumed in a very long time. I’m genuinely considering this for the ‘26-27 halaqa.⁴

I’d love to get Chris on our new podcast—Avenue M, of course!

For those who don’t yet know, Avenue M is the podcast Joey Taylor and I created to share our perspective as two men of faith, Midwesterners in (God willing) the middle-ish of our lives, talking to men we find admirable, engaging and insightful. Our recent episodes have included Richard V Reeves and Shadi Hamid; you can find us on Substack—where we link to every episode and share show notes and more.

On that note, I’ve got more news to share, this time about my new company, Queen City Diwan.

While our September Uzbekistan trip is sold out, we still have openings for our October 11-19 ‘umrah … and we’ve just announced a new trip: From November 21 - 29, over Thanksgiving break, we’re taking a grand tour of Andalus, covering three countries and two continents, traveling by road, rail and sea, as we see Morocco (Casablanca, Fes, Tangier and more), Spain (Tarifa, Sevilla and Cordoba) and Portugal (Faro and Lisbon)! Learn more here—and remember, seats are limited!

Of course, if you’ve got questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.

P.S. If you’ll be at Chautauqua on August 21st, or in the area, I’ll be speaking at 2pm about AI, faith, and the future of religious education. I’m thinking if calling it Halal Food at Jurassic Park but, if you want to know why…

1. Is Haroon suggesting you shouldn’t watch it on a smaller screen?

2. That … and a common revulsion over genocide, and not bias or bigotry, are primarily what explain why so many especially young Americans are outraged by the war on Gaza.

3. If the powers-that-be actually cared about our country, they’d realize the way they’re attacking the Mamdani campaign is an instance of epic self-harm—the more we take away space for criticism, the more we erode the very country itself. But did you expect Cuomo to care about anyone but himself?

Here you have tens of thousands of people who’re deeply disillusioned, who suspect the system is stacked against them, but the pro-war oligarchy is so obsessed with controlling everything that it wants to suppress any sign of deviance even in a time of crisis. How is that good for anyone … let alone everyone?

4. Hayes even proposes a novel explanation for why so many older adults and senior citizens find it so hard to limit their screen time. It may not be what you think.