Superman as a mirror for our compassionate selves

James Gunn’s interpretation of the Man of Steel is less about unbridled power and spectacle, and more about what it means to show up – through listening, compassion, and a dogged belief in the good in others. And it has a dog. What’s not to love.

Seeing the good, a heroes greatest strength.
In Gunn’s vision, Superman is neither a brooding god nor a distant legend, in this movie he’s endearingly human — this is not because of his powers, but because of how keenly he feels the world’s suffering and how gently he responds to it. This is something I feel a lot of do in our own gentle way. Clark’s humility and his superpower of empathy are front and centre. He doesn’t view others as problems to be solved, but as people to be understood. this happens even when the world turns on him, labeling him an “alien” or an outsider, something I see more and more of in real life happening sadly, Superman meets suspicion with patience, refusing to let cynicism corrode his kindness.

In my compassion studies, It’s impossible not to see echoes of Kristin Neff’s gentle teachings on self-compassion in Superman’s journey. When pain, doubt, and fear ripple through him, there’s no hardening of spirit. Instead, he pauses, breathes, and returns to his core values of care and presence. He doesn’t bury his vulnerabilities — he moves through them, knowing they’re a bridge to deeper connection.

So much of Gunn’s Superman is shaped by the warmth and wisdom of his parents, John and Martha Kent. The film quietly honours the slow work of caregivers, modelling kindness not as a grand gesture, but as a series of small, everyday choices. Their love, patience, and acceptance that mould Clark into a hero who instinctively moves toward suffering, rather than turning away from it.

Rob Nairn, founder of the Mindfulness Association, with his mindful approach, would recognise in Superman a clarity that comes not from certainty, but from grounded awareness. Superman listens before acting, feels before fixing, trusts the basic goodness in those around him – even the antagonists. He often hesitates, reflecting before unleashing his power.

Holding our humanity with tenderness.
Unlike past versions, Gunn’s Superman isn’t weighed down by existential angst. Instead, there’s a subtle, non-judging acceptance – of himself, of others, and even of life’s imperfections. His humanity shows most not in how he wins, but in how he relates: comforting a frightened child, consoling a grieving adversary, or standing with the vulnerable simply because it is right.

This version of Superman, I feel, embodies Chris Germer’s invitation to “befriend our pain,” showing us that strength isn’t about armouring up, but opening up — to our own struggles and to those of others. In a world that too often asks us to be invulnerable, Superman models courageous vulnerability. He proves that true power is in empathy, kindness, and the willingness to heal rather than harm.

Later, I found myself reflecting, What might happen if I met my own flaws and those of others with the same gentle regard?
Where can I pause, breathe, and choose a compassionate response over a reactive one?
How might the world change if we each, in our own ways, tried to see the “inner child in every person,” as Clark does?

Thank for reading, with gratitude, 

Niall