Jon, and Kate, and Tiger! Oh, My!

December 15, 2009

Dear Advent Stargazers,

This is the time of year when many preachers become cultural critics. American consumerism is a common target, mixed with the occasional rant against “Happy Holidays.” But lately I’ve thought about a more recent, subversive threat, exhibited in the names that fill our airwaves and our newsprint: Jon and Kate. Paris and Britney. Brad and Angelina. And, of course, Tiger.

We are addicted to celebrities.

The latest Newsweek magazine has a photo of Tiger Woods on the cover with the compelling headline: “Why We Can’t Look Away.” Inside is a cover story by Neal Gabler, titled “The Greatest Show on Earth.” Among his arguments is that our fascination with celebrities now goes beyond the art that they produce. Rather than being entertained merely by their character portrayals (as actors) or their thrilling victories (as athletes), we crave something more real: the lives of the celebrities themselves. We novelize them into a narrative that not only captivates us, but draws us together. In a time when we are deeply polarized along a myriad of cultural lines, tabloid stories have become our shared reference, our “modern denominators,” as Gabler calls them:

In the past, television, movies, music, even books were sources of national cohesion. Dramatically lower ratings for broadcast television, reduced film attendance, and plummeting CD sales have all loosened the national bonds. We have become a nation of niches. Celebrity is one of the few things that still crosses all lines. As disparate and stratified as Americans are, practically all of them seem to share an intense engagement, or at the very least an acquaintance, with the sagas of Jon and Kate or Brad and Angelina or Jennifer and whomever, which is oddly comforting. These are America's modern denominators, and in some ways Jon and Kate are our Fred and Ginger—not, obviously, talentwise, but in the way they provide escape and give us something we can all talk about. [1]

Gabler offers a serious indictment against American culture. We look to fallible, fame-addicted performers and transform their sordid narratives into sources for meaning. And when that happens, we can’t enough of them. We’ll read their tweets, Google their latest photos, and post updates on FaceBook. We embed them into our collective consciousness, preferring to follow their sensationalized lives rather than stories that contain any real value.

So when a story of genuine significance comes along, like the one about a God who became human so that we could learn true love, we don’t know how to respond. We treat it like ancient history, package it into something more marketable, or, worst of all, ignore it altogether.

This is a troubling trend for people of Advent, for we too are bound by a story replete with scandal. Jesus was born of a dubious pregnancy, under the jealous gaze of a paranoid king, in the midst of a people crushed by political and economic oppression. He was greeted by shepherds, not dignitaries; among animals, not royalty. If you want tabloid-grabbing headlines, then turn to the gospels.

But make no mistake: the story of Christ’s birth is no celebrity narrative. It is not a tale we construct to reflect our deepest desires for fame and fortune. It is not a tragic story of an ordinary man ascending the heights of notoriety, only to watch it all come crashing down. You won’t find this on Access Nazareth or E! True Bethlehem Story. Instead, this is a subversive tale, about a God who tossed aside the trappings of fame, in order to become ordinary like you and me. It is about God’s downward, not upward, mobility. And it doesn’t get more meaningful, or more real, than that.

So forget about Tiger, Jon and Kate, and Paris and Lindsey. Instead, focus on the only story that really matters. The story of a celebrity who became one of us. And if you need a reminder of how the story goes, then join us for worship this Sunday. The Chancel Choir will be presenting a lovely cantata titled, “Rise Up,” a musical retelling of the birth of Christ. It will be a wonderful way to detoxify yourself of the clashing cultural narratives around us, and help us focus on the only Celebrity that really matters to us.

Hope, Peace, and Joy,

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
http://www.cherokeespumc.org

[1] For the full text of Neal Gabler’s article, visit http://www.newsweek.com/id/226457/page/1)