My all time favorite superhero is Superman. He is faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. He can shoot lasers from his eyes, blow tornados from his teeth, and who knows what would happen if he ever got indigestion.
Superman fights the unending battle for truth, justice and the American way. The Man of Steel never seemed to fly as high as when I was a boy. I wanted to be like him. I knew I could never fly or pick up a car; all I could really do was wear my underwear outside my clothes. So I did… (well, at least until Jr. High). When I was a child, I put on my Superman underoos and stood on the couch as I waited for those famous words to blast from our television. “It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” Although I never really understood why these first two guys were so excited about seeing a bird or a plane, I waited for my cue. “IT’S SUPERMAN!” Hearing those words, I would jump from the top of the couch and zoom around the room.
Superman served as my paragon for living a selfless life, of being in the world but not of it, of doing the right thing even when it stirred resentment and criticism from others (cough, cough—Batman!). It is not a surprise, then, that as I grew up and begin to read the Gospels, Superman reminded me a lot of Jesus. Now I know I’m behind the curve when it comes to writing about Superman as a type of Christ; so I want to go the other direction. I want to write about how Matthew presents Jesus as a type of one of Israel’s veritable superheroes: King Solomon.
Typologies of Christ abound in the New Testament. The authors present Jesus as a new Moses, a second Adam, a modern Elisha, a contemporary Melchizedek and so on. You likely know most of these, but you may not be as familiar with the depiction of Christ as a new Solomon.
King Solomon, of course, was the son of David and Bathsheba. He was known as the wisest man that ever lived. His sapience was so remarkable that the Queen of the South traveled to visit and admire this king of the Jews. The Queen did not, however, come empty handed: she brought the son of David precious spices and abundant gold (1 Ki 10.10). And she was not Solomon’s only visitor; rather people from “all the nations” came from every part of the world to hear his wisdom (1 Ki 4.34—5.14).
Despite his obvious blemishes in the rest of 1 Kings, Jewish wisdom literature and certain intertestamental works often exalt Solomon as their venerable champion. He even develops into a predecessor of Green Lantern. Seriously! In the legendary Jewish work written sometime between the First and Third Century called the Testament of Solomon, God gives the wise king a magic ring by which he subjugates all the demons in and under the world. (You can read it here, I promise it is much better than the movie.)
With this general ennoblement of Solomon in mind, let’s fast forward to the First Gospel. Matthew begins with a genealogy in which he records five women. First, there’s Tamar, Rahab, and Ruth. Then there is Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, the mother of Solomon—the wise heir to Israel’s throne. The woman who follows Bathsheba on the list is Mary, the mother of Christ—the everlasting King of the Jews. Matthew situates the next hint of the typology in the story of the wise men. These royal visitors come from afar; and—similar to the Queen’s gifts to Solomon— they bring Jesus gold, frankincense and myrrh.
In case we missed the typology before, Matthew makes it clear in 12:38-42. There, as Jesus castigates the scribes and Pharisees, he reminds them of Solomon and the queen. “She came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom:” and now…drum roll please…”one greater than Solomon is here!” Jesus goes on to place the religious leaders in juxtaposition to the foreigners who, like the queen, will come from the ends of the Earth to pay homage to one greater than their superman. Over against Solomon, Jesus is Wisdom incarnate (11.19), the preeminent philosopher king.
A few years ago, one of my toddlers climbed into my lap, put his head under my chin, and “cuddled.” After a few sweet moments, he broke the silence and said: “Dad, you’re the ‘bestest.’” Similarly—although the debate still rages as to whether Superman or Batman is better (despite the obvious answer!)—this typology of Christ as well as others in the New Testament demonstrate conclusively that above all the champions in history (real or imagined, DC or Marvel) Jesus is the “bestest.” Yesterday, Today, and Forever.
 (πάντες οἱ λαοὶ /מִכָּל־הָ֣עַמִּ֔ים )