A Reflection on May the 4th, the soul and the fallible Mentor

Spirituality entered into my consciousness through Star Wars.

The original film carried with it the weight of transcendence beyond the material world, and it blew my six-year-old mind. I couldn’t articulate it then, but the subtle implications of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s death, characterized by renunciation and self-gift, immediately followed by the sound of his voice, massively expanded my narrow vision of a merely physical existence. 

Perhaps what got to me was the idea that death wasn’t the end. Or that power—real power—looked more like calm surrender than brute strength. Or that wisdom might look like weakness to those still clinging to control. Or, finally, perhaps it was all three. At any rate, through this great work of art, the universe had become more mysterious and meaningful than I had imagined. 

To me, there’s a reason why Star Wars isn’t just a classic film series. Why it’s become a phenomenon — a cultural obsession so significant that it has its own day for a reason. And why on May 4th, millions of people around the world will pull on their Star Wars shirts, rewatch their favorite films, and greet fellow aficionados with the phrase, “May the 4th be with you” for a reason. 

And that reason is spiritual!

Star Wars continues to matter—not just as entertainment, but as myth. As a mirror of the unconscious. As something that reflects the human soul. And as a window into the unseen forces that impact and often govern daily life. 

In this post, I want to reflect on how Star Wars illustrates three deep truths about what it means to be human—truths that we at the CatholicPsych Institute try to live out through our model of accompaniment, which integrates the spiritual and the psychological. 

And in that way, I want to invite you to see Star Wars not just as a space opera, but as a story about the kind of guidance, failure, and hope that every one of us longs for and needs.

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The stories we return to again and again are rarely just stories. They’re echoes. Archetypes. Visions of the inner world made visible.

We love Star Wars because it reflects back to us something of ourselves: our fears, our father wounds, our search for meaning.

From a psychological perspective, Star Wars is almost Jungian in its archetypes — those recurring, universal symbols that speak to the deepest structures of the human psyche. Some of the most powerful include:

• The Hero’s Journey: The call to adventure, the crossing of thresholds, the battles and trials that shape the soul.
  
• The Wise Mentor: The guide who offers wisdom, training, and encouragement for the journey — but who cannot walk the path for the hero.
  
• The Dark Shadow: The inner and outer embodiment of evil, fear, and unintegrated parts of the self that must be confronted and overcome.
  

But what makes Star Wars truly resonant is how deeply it taps into the spiritual reality that undergirds those symbols.

The Force isn’t just a plot device. It’s a visible sign of an invisible reality. A whisper of divine mystery. A nod to the reality that each of us is a co-creator in our lives, becoming who we are in cooperation with grace, and in submission to the Divine will. 

And it’s the lack of spirituality that limits current iterations of Star Wars. 

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2. Rebellion Isn’t Enough

The evolution—and erosion—of Transcendence in Star Wars over time is driven by an ever fainter spiritual whisper. The original trilogy was filled with awe and mystery: the Force, the Jedi, the sense of destiny. Even the prequels, for all their flaws, leaned into the idea of spiritual discipline, the seduction of pride, and the failure of religious institutions.

But recent installments have taken a different turn. Andor, for example, is critically acclaimed for its gritty realism and loyalty to the rebellion-era aesthetic. But something is missing. The Jedi are gone. The Force is absent. Religion is not just questioned—it’s irrelevant. The series paints a brilliant psychological portrait of resistance, but it’s spiritually sterile. And I think that’s why it hasn’t landed with popular audiences the way other series have. 

It’s well-crafted, but it doesn’t move the soul.

In an age increasingly skeptical of institutional religion, this shift isn’t surprising. The Jedi themselves have been reimagined through a postmodern lens. Obi-Wan Kenobi is riddled with doubt. The Jedi Council is painted as rigid and blind. The newer series, The Acolyte, seems to go even further in its critique. Even in the video game Knights of the Old Republic, we see the Council’s missteps fueling the Mandalorian Wars.

There’s truth here. Institutions fail. Mentors falter. But if that’s all we say, we’re left with nothing but cynicism. And people—especially young men—are hungry for more than that. We need Transcendence. We need a Force that is real, good, and trustworthy. 

And we need good, wise, and holy teachers—men and women who can show us the path of virtue, self-mastery, and self-gift. Not perfect people or perfect institutions but encouragement, wisdom, and a Way toward what is Good, True, and Beautiful.  

A psychologically rich and spiritually awake life can’t be built on rebellion alone. We need order. We need wisdom. We need a Force that is good…

And a Father who does not fail…

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3. Everybody Needs A Mentor

There’s this great scene on Dagobah, when Luke chooses to leave his training early to rescue his friends. Yoda and Obi-Wan, his Mentors, warn him not to go. They know he’s not ready. But he goes anyway. He fails. His hand is cut off. His soul is shaken.

It’s an “I told you so” moment for the Mentors, right? Well, not exactly. 

Yes, Luke fails, has his arm cut off, and nearly dies. But it’s also his first encounter with his father where love and connection are cultivated. And it’s through their love, a love that began because Luke chose to leave his training early, that ultimately results in the defeat of Palpatine and the fall of the Empire. It is actually love that returns balance to the Force.

This moment captures the paradox of mentorship and the mystery of Providence, who weaves even failure into something redemptive.

Mentors, like Obi-Wan or Yoda or even here at CatholicPsych, aren’t infallible. We don’t control the outcome. We can guide, but not dictate. And sometimes, like Obi-Wan, they’re wrong. Sometimes, like Yoda, they get it mostly right, but still can’t stop the pain. And sometimes there is a path only God can pave. 

Yet — mentorship matters. Because even fallible mentors point us toward something. They model virtue. They hold us accountable. They call us out of comfort and into formation. They journey alongside us in reverence of Providence and in companionship through the ups and downs of following the call of the Master. 

That’s what we aim to do in our CatholicPsych Mentorship: not as Jedi Masters, but as guides that will accompany others along the way.

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Star Wars endures because it speaks to what is deepest and truest about being human.

It reminds us that life is more than rebellion, more than struggle, more than what we can see with our eyes or feel with our hands.

It reminds us that accompaniment matters. That love prevails. And that the soul is integral to flourishing.

We are all, in some way, on a hero’s journey — battling the shadows within, longing for a wise voice to guide us, and searching for a power beyond ourselves that is good, real, and trustworthy. 

We are all trying to become who we are meant to be.

And we can’t do it without the true Force. So, in honor of May 4th and what it really says about who we are as human beings, “May the Force be with you always!”