The superheroes I grew up watching were Superman and Batman, and they became my source of knowledge of what a superhero is: someone who has superpowers, withholds his identity, is nationalistic, and considers saving the community his primary responsibility.

Looking back, my definition of a hero was largely built around power and duty. A hero was someone extraordinary who used extraordinary abilities to protect ordinary people. Superman could fly and was nearly invincible; Batman had no superpowers but possessed extraordinary intelligence, resources, and discipline. In both cases, being a hero meant having the ability to protect others and choosing to do so.

I can say I am a superhero fan, but not a big enough fan to collect souvenirs and comic books. I do watch DC and Marvel movies, but they are movies I feel I can miss. Spider-Man: Brand New Day was actually something I was ready to miss since I had missed the last few movies. But my son wanted to watch it, so we did.

It was a long movie, much like the Odyssey, although I am certainly not comparing the two. I did like Spider-Man: Brand New Day, partly because it was not the storyline I expected. What I had in mind was the typical and traditional superhero movie: a protagonist protecting the city from an antagonist while keeping his identity hidden.

It was different this time.

This movie showed not simply a superhero, but a human being who, like us, someone who makes mistakes, gets heartbroken, and along the way needs to humble himself, admit his wrongdoings, and correct his actions.

That vulnerability is what made Peter Parker more interesting to me. Traditional superheroes are often defined by what makes them different from us: their strength, intelligence, technology, or supernatural abilities. Peter’s humanity, however, is precisely what makes him relatable. He gets hurt. He gets confused. He makes decisions that have consequences. He experiences heartbreak and disappointment. And like the rest of us, he sometimes has to confront the uncomfortable realization that he may be the one who is wrong. In that movie, he was.

Perhaps that is also what makes someone truly heroic. Being a hero does not mean being incapable of failure. It means having the courage to face our failures, accept responsibility for them, and choose to become better.

This brings me back to the famous Spider-Man principle: “With great power comes great responsibility.”

When I was younger, I understood this mainly as a call to use one’s abilities to help others. But perhaps there is something deeper to it. The principle assumes that power does not determine what is right. Having the ability to do something does not automatically mean that we should do it. There has to be a moral standard beyond our own desires that tells us how our power ought to be used.

Someone who has money, for example, can consider that money a form of power and feel a responsibility to share it with others. There is certainly nothing wrong with generosity. But even generosity requires wisdom and discernment. We can give without truly helping. We can provide resources in ways that create dependency, encourage irresponsibility, or fail to address the real problem. The question is therefore not simply, “Can I help?” or even “How much can I give?” but “What is the right thing to do with what I have?”

This is where responsibility becomes more than simply using our power for good. It requires us to know what good actually is. Power needs responsibility, but responsibility needs truth. Without a moral standard beyond ourselves, even good intentions can lead us in the wrong direction.

This is where I see the importance of objective truth.

If there is no truth beyond ourselves, then responsibility becomes whatever we decide it should be. We can justify almost anything based on what we feel, what benefits us, or what we believe is right at the moment. But if there is an objective moral truth, then our responsibility is not simply to create our own morality. It is to recognize what is right and have the courage to live according to it.

And this is where Peter’s humility becomes his greatest superpower.

His greatest challenge is not learning how to become more powerful. It is learning that his power does not make him right. He has to recognize when he is wrong, accept the consequences of his choices, and change his actions. That requires humility—the willingness to put truth above his ego and responsibility above his own desires.

Unlike other heroes who had mentors and sages, Peter Parker’s love from Aunt May and Uncle Ben was enough to help keep him grounded and guide him through his moral dilemmas. They did not simply love Peter; they gave him a moral compass. Their love was not merely about making him feel good or telling him that he was right. It was about helping him understand what was right.

That, perhaps, is what struck me most about the movie. We do not just need to grow up surrounded by people who love us. We need to grow up surrounded by people who love us enough to lead us toward truth—even when the truth is difficult to accept.

This made me think about how we raise children and young people. We often want to give them confidence, independence, and the ability to make their own decisions. These are important. But perhaps we sometimes forget that freedom without formation can become dangerous. Young people need not only the freedom to choose; they need the formation to know what is worth choosing.

They need people who will affirm them, but also people who will challenge them. They need people who will forgive them, but also people who will hold them accountable. Most importantly, they need people who will teach them that being wrong is not the end of the world. What matters is having the humility to acknowledge it, learn from it, and make things right.

Maybe that is what makes a real superhero.

It is not simply having great power. It is having the humility to recognize that power must be placed at the service of what is right. Great power requires great responsibility, but responsibility requires truth, and following truth requires humility.

When I was young, I thought a hero was someone with extraordinary powers who used them to save others.

Perhaps now I see it differently.

A hero is someone who, despite having power, knows that he does not know everything; despite being capable, knows that he can be wrong; and despite making mistakes, has the humility to accept responsibility and choose what is right.

With great power comes great humility