Name a Star After Someone Else!

Well, I’ve about had it. With celebrity, that is.

Britney. Branjolina. Boring!

At the moment it’s the death of Anna Nicole Smith: How did she die? Who’s the father of her baby? When did Zsa Zsa Gabor marry a prince?

Hear me: I don’t care about Anna Nicole Smith! That sounds terrible, I grant, but it’s true. Of course I feel for her family in their grief, and for Ms. Smith herself, given the many challenges that complicated her life. But I don’t care, I have neither reason nor desire to care about her death...

...any more than I should care about the dozens of Iraqi civilians who will die in sectarian violence today, or the 90 year old who wanders in the fog of Alzheimer’s Disease, or the child who stubbed his or her toe for the first time last night.

My objection to our cultural obsession with celebrity is at least two-fold. First, vicarious living is vacuous living. That is, in our culture people read “People,” watch “Access Hollywood,” and manage blog shrines to their favorites, all in a condescending masquerade whose aim is to experience the interest and excitement their own lives lack.

That’s condescending, not to the stars, but to God, because God didn’t go through the trouble of giving each of us our own shot of life, just to have us search for some kind of after-market life through the (mis)fortunes of the rich, famous, and tawdry. God gave us what we needed, in the amount and to the degree we needed it, for the reasons we needed it. No celebrities required.

My second objection to our cultural obsession is that it objectifies and minimizes people. Practitioners of celebrity obsession use their targets because for them the stars serve purposes, meet needs, and fill voids. For such users, the rich and well known are not people – children of God – they are instruments of pleasure and distraction; they matter not for who they are, but for what they do.

Worse yet, many celebs need their worshipers as much as their worshipers need them.

The sad truth is that celebrity obsession will persist as long as do empty lives. Just as plant roots in dry ground sprawl out in search of water, so do empty lives search for filler. We obviously have to offer healthier, more person-affirming filler. His name would be Jesus.

I probably don’t need to tell readers of this blog about Jesus’ penchant for spending time with the indigent, the outcast, the infirmed, and the lonely; seldom did he hob knob with the rich and famous. Neither do I need to remind them of his conversation with Peter following the resurrection, in which he asked whether Peter loved him. Peter, of course, said yes. Jesus replied, “Then feed my sheep.” That is, if you worship me, if I become the filler for your empty life, you will turn your attention to someone else. You will go meet a need, feed a hunger, or stand up against an oppression.

Turns out, faithful celebrity is neither idol worship nor idle living.

And as for “American Idol,” let me tell you. . . . . . . . .


Pray with me:
God, you are the one I worship. . . at least most of the time. Jesus is my fill. . . when I don’t turn to others. You are my only hope. So fuel me, fill me, then use me for your purposes. Help me keep my idols straight and my faith focused, in the name of Jesus, Amen.