Peter Parker is not hurting for father figures in his life, though he is hurting for father figures that are stable, loving influences. Throughout the Spider-Man trilogy, we see Peter surrounded by father-like people: Norman Osborn in film 1, who didn’t turn out quite so good; Otto Octavius in film 2, who … well, same story, different guy. In all three films, J. Jonah Jameson and Dr. Connors are both father-like figures, influencing Peter in his profession and his schoolwork, respectively.
But the greatest father figure Peter has is the man who most closely resembled a father when Peter was growing up: Uncle Ben. Despite Peter’s protestations in the early goings of Spider-Man, Uncle Ben was his father (and yes, Peter does tell Norman Osborn that realization at the end of the picture). When Uncle Ben dies in the first film, it creates an emotional wound that Peter carries through the rest of the trilogy.
His thirst for revenge makes sense when Captain Stacy tells him that Flint Marko was Uncle Ben’s killer (which isn’t the case in the comics, but we’re talking about the movies here, so just go with it). Peter takes it out on Flint in the subway, but the Sandman rises again to pound the stuffing out of Peter with that big, sandy fist at the construction site. Blah, blah, blah, the battle is finally over, Venom is gone and Peter is standing there, shell-shocked.
“I didn’t want this,” says a voice behind him. It’s Flint. The Sandman.
Then Flint relays the story of what really happened on that street corner that fateful night, and we see a portrait of Uncle Ben that confirms all we know about him. It starts with Flint rapping the barrel of his gun against the window of Uncle Ben’s car, and ends with the same barrel of that same gun unloading a bullet into Uncle Ben’s abdomen.
In between, Flint ordered Uncle Ben out of the car, telling the older man that he needs the vehicle. Once Uncle Ben is standing on the sidewalk, the kindly old gent lays a hand on Flint’s shoulder: “Why don’t you just put down the gun and go home?” he asks.
In the midst of this intense moment—a carjacking at the hands of a career thief—Uncle Ben’s primary concern isn’t his own car or his own life. His primary concern is Flint.
“Why don’t you just put down the gun and go home?”
The question reveals a lot about Uncle Ben and the way he saw the world. He saw the outside circumstances of the theft, but looked into Flint’s soul and saw someone worth rescuing. Uncle Ben loved him.
We know this because the Bible gives us a full, round, beautiful definition of love in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
To cap it off, a few verses later, we have this summary: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love” (v. 13).
Look at the attributes of love in how Uncle Ben dealt with Flint Marko, car-jacker and thief. Uncle Ben was patient with him. Even when he was hustled out of the car, he retained a demeanor of calm.
He was kind, laying his hand on Flint’s shoulder in a gesture of kindness.
He didn’t show envy. Envy is selfishness, and in that moment, Uncle Ben’s only concern was for Flint.
He didn’t boast. Uncle Ben could have laid into Flint, calling him a lowlife and contrasting him from the law-abiding citizen whose car he’s stealing. Instead, Ben kept quiet—except for that question, the question that would haunt Flint in prison.
He wasn’t rude. He asked his question with sincerity. He presented Flint with an actual option, not a rhetorical question designed to ridicule him.
He wasn’t self-seeking. Again, he put aside his own concerns to deal with the bigger question of Flint’s behavior.
He wasn’t easily angered. Boy, did he have a right to be angry! He was just sitting there, and some dude came up with a gun to take his car. But Ben sidestepped his anger and looked at the bigger picture.
He kept no record of wrongs. He wasn’t concerned with Flint’s past. His question, “Why don’t you just put down the gun and go home?” hinted that the past doesn’t matter. Whatever Flint’s reasons for being there, he still had a choice; he could put his gun down and go home.
Uncle Ben is a great characterization of love. Not to elevate him to sainthood, because that would be silly (he’s not a real person, after all), but in an incredibly tense moment, he acted so much differently than most of us would. Yes, Ben lost his life, but not because he loved. He lost it because of a freak accident.
We are called to love those around us, and it can be a dangerous mission. When we love, we open ourselves up to risk.
Had Uncle Ben hit the sidewalk screaming, he likely would have lived.
But he wouldn’t have loved.
Which is worth more to you: your life or your love?