We all die. King or pauper, pope or queen or the magic feet of Pelé, death is the greatest leveller. The recent losses of larger-than-life figures like Benedict XVI, Pelé, and queen Elizabeth II bring us to a place of reflection. Death is the biggest common denominator of humanity. Personally, we carry the losses of loved ones, the people whom we loved who were our parents, children, siblings, family and friends. However, many also carry other losses, often unspoken yet no less profound.
We also count as losses, all those moments of disappointment and shock, where people we have come to trust disappoint us; when we feel betrayed in a relationship; and when idols we look up to emerge as flawed. In Catholic circles, the fall from grace of gurus and larger-than-life religious figures like Enzo Bianchi, Jean Vanier, and Marko Rupnik have left many believers dismayed and disappointed.
This phenomenon is not exclusive to religious milieux. Younger generations have it tougher when they look around at their influencers and idols: whether it is a pouting Cristiano Ronaldo refusing to leave a football match with grace; the arrest of social media influencer Andrew Tate, or that of cypto billionaire Sam Bankman-Fried (out on bail for a miserly $250 million), show that wherever you look, people we put up on pedestals somehow have clay feet and darker sides. Other losses, like the sudden death to suicide of popular personalities like Stephen ‘Twitch’ Boss, also leave a whole following feeling bereft and bewildered.
What do we do when our idols die or disappoint us? The Judeo-Christian tradition has also grappled with this dilemma, particularly in the Old Testament. It is the main theme of the First Commandment: you shall not have any other god but me.
The constant leitmotif of the people of Israel was to wean itself off idolatry, and to acknowledge God as God. Whether it was the golden calf, or the traditions of other neighbouring clans, each time the people sold its soul to perishable things or worshipped the idols of its neighbours, it found itself lost and disoriented. The nation lost its bearing. No wonder the desert trek took the mythical 40 years to complete! Weaning ourselves off our idols is painful and slow.
Each time the people sold its soul to perishable things or worshipped the idols of its neighbours, it found itself lost and disoriented
Jesus’s answer to the same dilemma is even more forthright. When asked by a man: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus explicitly answers: “Why do you call me good?” “No one is good – except God alone.” (Mk:10:18). If Jesus balked at calling himself good, I wonder where the rest of us fit on the good-terrible spectrum! In another instance, Jesus is as adamant in condemning Pharisees who are of poor example to their followers: “But do not do what they do, for they do not practise what they preach. (Mt 23:3).
The point for Jesus is very clear. Any time we worship other people, we lose touch with the deep identity of who we really are as children of God. While we desperately need mentors and shepherds and authentic leaders in our age, they remain, like John the Baptist who dominates the liturgy of these weeks, mere pointers to the true light of Jesus.
In the words of Pope Benedict XVI, our task is “to bring the light of Christ to shine before the men and women of today: not (our) own light but that of Christ”.