As a run-down school bus approaches Padre Pio High School, I shuffle along the frayed  fabric of my seat to peer out a clouded window at the building that I would call my academic  home for the next four years. Moments after the vehicle slowly grinds to a stop, I descend its  sticky steps and join the flock of students swarming the entrance. I look around and notice the  freshly steamed uniforms, neatly trimmed hair, and clean-shaven faces of my new peers and I  nod approvingly. Not a tattoo or piercing in sight.  

​

I follow the crowd as we avoid the school’s sacred crest engraved in the floor in a show  of respect for the institution’s Jesuit founding. I break free from the flock to search for my locker  and find it outside of the art room. After four or five tries of opening the lock, (how did everyone  else open it so quickly?) it pops open and I take in the sight of a high school locker and the faint  scent of a lemon cleaning product. 

​

Five or six hours later I return to my locker after a full day of classes, open it only after  two tries (I’m getting better already!) and begin sorting through my collection of bulky textbooks  and smaller novels. I decide that I should bring home most of my books because I want to get a  jumpstart on the material like a good student should do. And hopefully the grades will follow.  That’s how it works, right? So, I trudge along with my heavy backpack past the hallowed seal  and board the bus for a long ride home.  

~ 

​

I am brimming with excitement as my family and I purchase our favorite salty snacks and  confectionery items before we view The Batman (2022) in theaters. I have been looking forward  to seeing it for several months, if not years, and had carefully avoided watching the trailers  because I wanted to be fully surprised. 

​

I have been a Batman fanatic since I was little. He was always my favorite superhero. I  loved wearing his awesome suit and gleefully throwing toy Batarangs around the house. Not to  mention the bat signal. But as I grew older, I began to realize that there was another layer of  depth to The Caped Crusader. I mean, his parents were murdered right in front of him as a child  and he processes it by protecting the city that killed them from maniacal supervillains. 

I use the restroom (I don’t want to miss anything later!) and put my phone on “Do Not  Disturb”. We take our seats and I munch on my salted caramel popcorn as trailers for movies that  I could quite frankly care less about occupy the big screen. Finally, I hear the song “Ave Maria"  echo throughout the theater and the film begins. For the next 2 hours and 47 minutes, I become  one with the film.  

~ 

​

Alongside other members of the Padre Pio choir, I sing the final verse of the recessional  hymn concluding a school-wide Catholic mass. I wasn’t a singer or even remotely interested in  developing vocal skills. I joined the choir because it was a solid co-curricular for my college  resume and it didn’t really interfere with my studying time. Plus, it adds a nice element of  faithful devotion.  

The choir leader signals the mass has ended and she requests the students’ assistance in  putting away our folding chairs. I obediently help and check my phone to see if any grades have  been updated. I scan my online PowerSchool portal and notice my English I Honors grade has  slightly improved. I inspect the assignments listed under Quarter 3 and deduce that my grade has  gone up because I performed well on a recent writing assignment.  

Another choir member moving chairs asks me “Hey, did you see that Cotters graded the  Antigone questions?” I respond, “Yeah, I know. 98.” He frowns and says “95”. I respectfully  refrain from gloating and celebrate internally (98!! The 98 now makes it possible for an A+ in 

​

Quarter 3, but that means I have to get more 98s in Quarter 4 and on the final exam. Geometry  Honors is a lost cause for an A+ but Theology I and World History honors are safe. FOCUS!  Shit! I have a Biology Honors test later today!).  

I studied for 3.5 hours for the science test last night, but I want to spend a few extra  minutes between periods two and three to review my notes. I then remember that the “95 guy”  was in an earlier section of the class and took the exam already. I hesitate to ask him about it. I  wasn’t going to ask him for answers; I would never do that. But, to help guide my quick review,  I decide to ask him if the test covered more of chapter six or seven.  

He seems baffled by the question. “How the hell would I know that? The test is online. I  just memorized the answers!” he acerbically replies. I don’t answer. Instead, I question how kids  at a school like Padre Pio would be cheating like that…there’s a freaking honor code!  

​

I slowly calm down. I’ll just have to study harder to keep up with kids like 95 to make  sure I still keep getting 98s. I dance around the Jesuit seal, almost stepping on it, as I frantically  pull my Biology Honors notebook out of my bulky backpack.  

~ 

​

“Ave Maria” fades into the background. I am no longer in the theater, but in Don  Mitchell Jr’s mayoral estate. Through a television recording, we learn that the Gotham mayor is  in a dead heat in his reelection campaign against youthful progressive challenger, Bella Reál. In  

a public debate, the incumbent defends his tough-on-crime-agenda against Reál’s plea for  systemic change. 

However, a more sinister threat lurks amid the shadows of Michell Jr’s home. The  Riddler, concealing his identity behind a dark mask, emerges from the darkness and slaughters the mayor in a gratuitously violent manner. Both the hymn and the victim’s life force reach a  definitive end. 

~ 

​

It is now sophomore year and I am keeping up with the competition. My PowerSchool is  filled with 97s, 98s, and 99s (God forbid a 95 and knock on wood no Bs!) yet I fear that the  Padre Pio class of 2020 is slowly descending into a state of utter and complete depravity. I  continue to rigorously follow the letter of the honor code (I never looked for the Biology Honors  tests; NO, I DIDN’T!) and I am disgusted by the rampant cheating plaguing this bastion of  secondary education. With their polished name tags, dry cleaned khakis, and neatly combed hair,  they think they can do whatever they want with utter and complete impunity.  

​

One day, I reach my wits’ end and decide to do something. I select one of the most  notorious cheaters (the guy who always sits at the back, bought all of last year’s history quizzes,  and uses an Apple Watch just for cheating) and send him a Snapchat message saying “Stop  cheating!”. An hour or so later he responds with a laughing emoji. He clearly thought I was  kidding, but clearly, I was not.  

​

I plan my next move, my rage internally brimming. I stay up late alternating between  studying for tomorrow’s history quiz without all the answers and plotting for my revenge  campaign against the laughing emoji guy and all the other 95s. As the clock reaches midnight, I  am forced to turn my desk lamp on to keep the shadows off my notebooks.  ~ 

It’s Halloween night and under the bleak rainfall Gotham is vulnerable to the element.  The element never rests, always ready to strike like a camouflaged serpent hiding amid the shadows. The silence of the shadows is palpable, and the scaled serpents silently slither to  devour their innocent prey.  

​

One gangly flock of hoodlums descend against an innocent man traveling through the  dilapidated tenements of Crown Pointe. A bright flash of light shines upon a fanged cobra tattoo  covering the right bicep of a thug brandishing a spiked club above his prey. Suddenly, a masked  figure emerges from the shadows and approaches the den of serpents.  

The cobra tattooed thug steps out of the shadows and the newfound light illuminates a  man peppered with piercings and wild disheveled hair. The cobra thug screams “Get lost freak!  This is our turf! Who the hell are you supposed to be?” The masked figure responds “I am vengeance.”  

​

The cobra strikes the masked figure but his punch is expertly blocked and the figure  subdues the crazed den of serpents in less than a minute of intense combat. The Crown Pointe  cobras retreat to the shadows leaving their prey rattled but unscathed. The figure cracks his  knuckles, adjusts his mask, and returns to the shadows to silently observe Gotham. Now able to  remove his mask among the safety of darkness, the figure reveals his identity as Bruce Wayne,  the masked vigilante known as The Batman to the people of Gotham.  

~ 

​

Fast forward to my senior year at Padre Pio. After just a few days of my last year in high  school, my mental health descends into a state of utter and complete depression. By the second  week of school, I couldn’t continue with my lifestyle and looked with dread at an impending  year of misery defined by SATs, college searches, AP exams, and more and more and more  work. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I desperately needed to get help and stare into the face of my  moral fixation. 

Through challenging my intractable core beliefs, I learned from professionals and my  peers around me that grades are rather artificial. And not just Padre Pio’s numeric judgements.  The uniforms, admittance to only one sex, and outward display of religiosity seemed to be just an  artificial pretext to impose order. By looking around my treatment center at fellow students in  emotional pain with dyed hair, piercings, and diverse sexual and gender identities, I began to see  that my new surroundings may be a truer reflection of reality. They are just like me, not societal deviants.

​

Astonishingly, after three years of battling cheaters, exhaustion, the desire to maybe have  some fun, and the slight fallibility of my memory, I am basically earning the same grades this  year while doing just a small fraction of the work. I continued to complete academic assignments  for about two hours each day (instead of my nightly eight) and spent the rest of the time in  therapy or relaxing. My teachers graded the assignments I submitted through a liaison and I  received a grade of incomplete for the assignments I couldn’t do. I was getting an A+ in  Theology IV, an A in AP Psych, and all incompletes in AP Gov (wait, no, my bad…grades are  not what are important anymore. I learned that in therapy). I can be a good person without perfect grades. My worth does not come from my GPA.  

​

As I return to Padre Pio for the remaining months of senior year, grades no longer  determine order, yet I sense a huge vacuum replacing the former beacon of stability. As I  frantically search for a new source of justice, this giant gaping vacuum gradually grows in size  and intensity. As I enter college, my newfound mission to understand morality becomes front  and center. I better not forget what I learned this year. 

​

As the bleak Halloween night continues, the two masked figures reemerge from the shadows and compete for dominance over the city they both think they’re protecting. The Riddler continues his criminal crusade and murders both the police commissioner and the district attorney, yet his targets are calculated compared to the wanton violence of the Crowne Pointe cobras. The Riddler is not killing just to kill; rather, he is intent on cleansing Gotham from the corrupt elite poisoning his city. He publicly posts the elected officials’ betrayal of the city’s trust and many citizens of Gotham begin to question who the real villain is.

~

​

It is now the middle of the fall semester of my junior year at Colgate University and I walk with my spiritual mentor to have dinner at the school’s dining hall. I am grateful to him for influencing my decision to become increasingly involved in a religious campus organization that has provided me with a growing sense of community, stability, and order in a disordered and evil world. Our fellowship isn’t really a fringe group although some people may find their views extreme. But those who reject our views are either sadly ignorant or stubbornly obstinate of the truth that governs the world. Unethical crimes committed by people like 95 or laughing emoji contribute towards immorality, but their disrespect for academic integrity is not the salient issue. Rather, their behavior is inherently disordered against the moral fabric of the universe governed
by God. It is God’s law not to cheat, lie, and steal regardless of whether I worship grades or are apathetic about school.

My mentor and I enter a private room in the back of the dining hall that was reserved for members of the fellowship. We sit down and exchange pleasantries while I attempt to cut a piece of dry chicken with a plastic knife (truly a hopeless endeavor). I eventually give up and Tim, another spiritual leader, directs us to open our English Standard Version Bibles to the third chapter of the Gospel of John.

Tim directs me to read the following passage:
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in
him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the
world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever
believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been
condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is
the verdict, that the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light,
because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and
does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives
the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God (John
3: 16-21).

After Tim thanks me for reading the sacred scripture, my spiritual mentor asks “What do you think of Jesus being revealed as the light that came into the world?” The direct question catches me off guard for some reason, and I hesitate before answering. Eventually I remark “Well, the text is clear. You have to pursue the light and that’s Jesus. There’s no room for
ambiguity.” My mentor nods approvingly and the conversation among my mentor, Tim, and a few others segues into a tangential exploration of the passage’s connection to the Book of Philippians. But I’m not listening anymore.

I can’t stop thinking about my answer. No ambiguity. That should make me happy, right? I can rest easy knowing that order and justice govern the world. My world.

~

​

No ambiguity. Cheaters or scholars. Buttoned up or gangly appearance. Saved or condemned. Good, it makes sense.

I feel sick. It must be the stupid grilled chicken I shoved down my throat. No, it's something far worse. The entirety of my emotional being empties to only leave an internal pit of emptiness and despair eclipsing even my time at Padre Pio. I think of those I met at my program: the ones who deviated from the flock. Those suffering beyond binary lines of understanding.

I stifle a wave of nausea and tears surging towards my eyes. Oh, shit! What have I done? My mentor knocks me out of my waking nightmare. “We’re going to go evangelize outside the engineering building in a few minutes. You want to come?”

~

​

Among the officials not implicated in the Riddler’s violent crusade is Lieutenant Jim Gordon who assists the Batman in bringing order to the chaos unleashed on Gotham. Together, they discover that almost the entirety of the city’s government and Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) are on the payroll of infamous mob boss Carmine Falcone. With the backing of other ethical police officers, they proceed to arrest Falcone who steps into the light. With his criminal enterprise illuminated in front of the whole city, the Riddler shoots him in the chest with a sniper rifle and Gotham’s godfather of crime collapses with his corpse laying inert in the flickering luminescence of a fading street lamp.

~

​

I did a brave thing, I suppose. I realized the journey I bought the ticket for was traveling
towards an entirely different destination than I imagined. I didn’t sign up for what the
Colgate evangelicals were doing, despite my vehement conviction that what I was doing
was right for two entire years. My family says I’m a hero, but I feel like a zero.

I close the journal provided by the hospital and date the top of the entry I just wrote. I flip through the pages (wow, I’ve written a lot in the last few days!). Although I made the decision to come here, I have to constantly reassure myself that
starting over is the right decision (I’m okay...I’m good...I’m not crazy...it’s going to be okay). A flickering light interrupts my rumination. Stupid light.

~

​

The Riddler appears to abandon his deadly crusade and the GCPD arrest him while he calmly sits in a random cafe in the Bowery district of the city. They send the unmasked forensic accountant to Arkham State Hospital. But, as the GCPD and the Batman investigate his penthouse base of operations they discover that the Riddler has quite the online following...quite
the fringe type.

~

​

The American healthcare system is freaking infuriating. I’ve been in and out of different therapy programs for several months (probably more than a year at this point, but who’s counting?) and the whole system enrages me. It's completely broken. From my recent exposure to the system, I can’t even fathom the frustration and grief that
the uninsured or underinsured experience. I just want to tear the whole system down. Cleanse it from its avarice and corruption. I’m feeling better, but all I can see now is the nuanced, complex darkness of the world. Our stupid, broken world.

~

​

Inside the Riddler’s cell in Arkham State Hospital, he peers outside his window at a city about to be cleansed by a disaster of his making. Explosions reverberate throughout Gotham as the city’s seawall crumbles allowing for a rush of water to flood the city. People, buildings, cars...everything is consumed by the onslaught of water. Those not killed by the bombs or devoured by the flood run to the city’s center where mayoral candidate Bella Reál funnels the masses inside a large building not yet enveloped by the water.

The public center reaches its maximum capacity and Reál approaches the stage to deliver a message of hope and encouragement. She barely begins her speech when a bullet suddenly scrapes her left ear. The Riddler’s followers, the real fringe type, are stationed in the rafters loaded with guns and barrels of ammunition. The crowd erupts in panic unaware that there is someone else in the rafters amid the shadows.

~

​

Forgiveness is powerful. It is not for the weak or the faint of heart. I read somewhere
along my journey that it is a voluntary decision to overcome pain and treat the offender
with compassion all while letting go of emotions like anger, resentment, and shame.

I close my journal and date the entry (wow, the book is still in good condition since the hospital). I then notice that this entry marks the last page of the notebook. A fitting way to close that journey of my life.

I’m now back in college, although I did not return to Colgate. There was no reason to go back to the Christian community.

The new college and I are going to approach this journey differently this time. We will do everything holistically to acknowledge the elaborate beauty of the world’s opportunities. Maybe I will work to purify the healthcare system so I can improve the process that healed me.

As I meditate on that sentiment, I rise from my wooden chair in my dorm room and walk over to my freshly cleaned mirror. I uncap a dark blue dry erase marker and begin writing on the mirror “I will remain focused on the light and let the shadowy paths guide my new journey.” After I finish writing, I say it aloud. And a second time. I say it once more, “I will remain focused on the light and let the shadowy paths guide my new journey.”

~

​

The Batman engages in intense hand-to-hand combat with the fringe fanatical followers of the Riddler and neutralizes nearly all of them except for one. The vigilante approaches the remaining hoodlum and commands “Come, face me!” The fighter emerges from the shadows and into the light...it’s the cobra tattoo thug.

The serpent slithers back into the shadows of the rafters where the Batman pursues. Entering the shadows, the cobra fires off a flurry of rounds into the Batman’s chest and he slowly collapses onto the ledge of the rafters.

Facing an imminent death, through either a precipitous fall or an enemy’s execution, the Batman injects his body with an adrenaline serum from his tool belt and furiously pulls himself up from the ledge and onto the shaking body of the cobra. On top of his former assailant, the Batman unleashes his unbridled vengeful fury upon the helpless criminal.

The cobra takes blow after blow until a group of GCPD officers arrive in the rafters. Lieutenant Gordon subdues his vigilante partner, looks down at the bloodied gangster and asks “Who are you?” In a raspy voice, he answers “I am vengeance.”.

With the city flooded and sections, like Crown Pointe, in rubble, the Batman realizes that he has to become more than vengeance. Instead of instilling fear in criminals, he needs to protect the city, his city, out of love. Love is powerful as is her companion, forgiveness.

~

​

An entry dated in perpetuity:
I forgive the cheaters. The liars. The hoodlums. I forgive the evangelicals living in a
world of biblical 1s and 0s. I forgive the Mayor Mitchell Jrs of the world who uphold
systems of greed and corruption. I forgive myself for momentarily choosing order over
love.

There is light and darkness in us all. But, to focus on the light, a complex, irritatingly enigmatic source, we must first realize that we live amid the shadows.