In Whitechapel in London’s East End there is a church that was built, in 1743, by a group of French Huguenots (Protestants who escaped persecution by Catholic authorities). Above the door they placed an object that perfectly and movingly encapsulates the experience of refugees throughout the ages. It is a sundial with two words written above it ‘Umbra Sumus’ (We are shadows). The Huguenots were obviously very familiar with persecution and murderous violence. It would, therefore, not have been very difficult for them to compare their lives to a shadow passing across a sundial. What struck me when I first saw this church was how ready they were to face their own mortality, even to the point of putting a constant reminder of it above the door of their church.
How things have changed! In our society the discussion of death seems to be one of the last taboos. Yet, we cannot live long in this world without being constantly reminded that our lives must come to an end at some stage. Walking past a cemetery, hearing about the passing of a famous person or seeing a tribute to someone on Facebook jerks us back to the realisation that we are like grass ‘in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers.’ (Psalm 90:6)
The uncomfortableness of modern secular society with the very idea of mortality is made even more acute by the fact that dogmatic materialism (the belief that there is nothing beyond this earthly reality) reigns virtually supreme in the minds of non-Christian Westerners. Yet, although they may profess to hold on to the conviction of ‘nothingness after death’ most people find the implications of this belief so startling and difficult to deal with that they desperately look for alternatives.
Could it be that the ‘Cult of Celebrity’ that we see blossoming around us is one of the many manifestations of the desire to ‘live on’ in some form (even if only as an important ‘influencer’ in the memories of people). I am, of course, not suggesting that people consciously see this as a way of salvation. It may, rather, be a manifestation of a deep-seated desire for continuing existence and significance. It should, of course, be noted that this is not all that is going on. There are many other factors motivating this phenomenon. The age-old yearnings for money, sex, and power certainly play their part as well.
It seems to me as if the search for secular significance turned the desire to be famous into something very close to an obsession for many people in our society. A whole industry responds to people’s desire for significance by allowing them the opportunity to ‘share in the lives’ of a succession of famous people who have been plucked from obscurity. The rise of social media took this one step further by allowing people to have a go at becoming famous without any middlemen, through the way in which they present a curated image of themselves to the world.
It is staggering to see how deeply the idea of ‘significance through fame’ has penetrated our culture. To the extent that some people now nominate ‘becoming famous’ as their chosen career. This represents a significant cultural shift. The existence of famous people is, of course, nothing new. Yet in the past people became famous as a kind of by-product of doing something heroic, innovative or useful. Now it seems that fame has moved from by-product status to a top priority. So, we have reached the point of having people in our society who are famous simply because they are famous!
From a Christian perspective the desire to live a life of purpose and to leave a positive legacy is a legitimate one. It is, however, highly doubtful whether this can be achieved through chasing after fame for the sake of fame. Why am I so pessimistic about this route to secular salvation? Allow me to explain.
Even if you accept the shaky premise that fame can add meaning and significance to human lives, it will still have to be acknowledged that it will remain an unobtainable ideal for the vast majority of people. Although we live in the age of social media, we are not even close to the fulfilment of Andy Warhol’s prediction that everyone will be famous for 15 minutes in the future. The reality is that most of us will only ever be known to our family, friends, and colleagues. Chasing after fame as the basis for a life of purpose and significance is therefore bound to end in failure and disappointment for most people.
It is, furthermore, the case that simple observation of the lives of celebrities/influencers show us that they are certainly not, on average, leading happier and more fulfilled lives than the rest of us. In fact, many of them spend staggering amounts of money on alcohol, Class-A drugs, and psychiatrists in attempts to escape from the very reality that so many others aspire to.
Thirdly, manufactured fame follows a very predictable trajectory. The media thrives on telling the stories of people who were pulled from obscure beginnings and delight in showing us their perfect lives. Then, when the time comes, they also take great delight in knocking the very same people down. The main objective of media outlets is obviously to get as many ‘eyeballs’ as possible on their products and nothing achieves that goal quite like a juicy scandal. Therefore, every celebrity must live with the horrible suspicion in the back of their minds that the very same people who are promoting them would take equal delight in cutting them down if it can improve the bottom line in some way. Judge for yourself whether the (probably justified) paranoia that this must create would be good for general well-being and mental health.
It should, finally, be noted that fame is even worse than grass when it comes to being here today and gone tomorrow. If you don’t believe me, just ask your parents who the brightest stars were in their youth and see if you know anything about them besides perhaps their names. As a route to significance, attempts to be remembered through fame are therefore almost certainly bound to fail. Even kings and emperors can’t manage it. This truth is brilliantly expressed in the poem Ozymandias by Percy Shelley. The poem describes a traveller seeing the remains of a statue depicting an illustrious ruler from ages past:
And on the pedestal these words appear
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.’
What I said above might sound like a bit of hypercritical spoil sporting, this is certainly not my intention. I want to repeat that I firmly believe that at least part of our modern fixation with fame can be traced back to a deep desire for a kind of secular salvation. As if people want to say: ‘Please remember me’! As Christians we should take note of this and be ready with answers to explain the hope and purpose that we have in Christ (cf. 1 Peter 3:15). Part of this response might be to repeat some of the commonsense points made above. If, however, our response to celebrity culture is simply a negative review we will probably only succeed in getting people to switch off.
I believe that a gospel-based response to the cult of celebrity should not only criticise it but should also share a clear and profound positive truth, namely: This is not all that there is! God assures those who cling to the merits of his Son of salvation and a new life; a life of meaning and purpose, both now and into eternity. With my life thus secured it frees me from anxious attempts to make my mark on this world. I am, instead, called to live for His glory here on earth, while recognising that my eternal destiny does not in any way depend on how many people like or remember me. This insight is obviously not an invitation to passivity or a complete lack of ambition. It should, however, remind us of where ultimate worth is to be found.
The Lord Jesus opened the way for us to worship, work hard, live life to the full, serve humanity, and enjoy creation. Our focus should, however, never be only on the ‘here and now’ or on how remarkable we are. Paul expressed the fervent wish that the cross of Christ will be his only boast (Galatians 6:14). If we share this desire, it goes without saying that the ultimate aim for Christians can never be to see our names in lights. It should rather be to point away from ourselves to the One who is more than worthy of attention and devotion. This is perhaps not a good recipe for fame, but it is certainly a proper response to the grace and love of God.
I began this article by referring to the words ‘We are shadows’ on the sundial of the Huguenot Church in London. I pointed out that this is a powerful reminder of the briefness of life. There is, however, also an additional shade of meaning that we should note. As devout believers the Huguenots almost certainly did not merely intend these words as a melancholy reminder that life passes swiftly. They also wanted to point past the shadowy and brief nature of human life to a deeper and more secure reality, a reality that can be found in Christ (Colossians 2:17).
The modern fixation with fame is just the latest in a long line of efforts to place the weight of ultimate significance on things that are too flimsy to carry it. May we always have the courage to point this out and then to point to Him who is more than able to carry us through this life and into eternity with Him.
