Celebrity worship could mean our lives are really rootless

Looking at the legions of fans mourning the loss of Michael Jackson, one might think celebrity worship is a modern phenomenon.
But from the gods on Olympus in ancient Greece to the bobby-soxers swooning over Elvis Presley to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie today, adulation of the stars is an age-old pursuit.
Jackson's sudden death last Thursday at age 50, just weeks before he was to launch a major concert tour, riveted the world. And hours earlier, the news that Farrah Fawcett, the 1970s sex symbol, had died of anal cancer captivated Americans who remembered her first for her role in TV's "Charlie's Angels" and later as a courageous woman sharing the intimate details of her battle with the disease. Earlier last week we had Ed McMahon, the sidekick to Johnny Carson, pass away.
The public's fascination with celebrities may seem new because we are such a media-immersed society, but it's really not.
When the composers Frederic Chopin and Franz Liszt performed in the 19th century, women threw their underwear at them. And 80 years after the death of silent-film star Rudolph Valentino, fans continue to visit his grave.
Celebrities tap into the public's primal fantasies and basic emotions, lifting people from their everyday lives and making them believe anything is possible.
In the case of Jackson, with what appeared to be numerous plastic surgeries and skin bleaching, the weirdness resonates with our own internal suppressed hidden wishes -- for immortality, gratification of sexual impulses and our wish for ageless beauty.
Humans at the core are social beings, and research has shown that the less connected people feel, the more they turn to celebrities.
While worshipping the rich and famous is harmless in itself, it could be perceived as symptomatic of a rootless culture in which many people feel a sense of isolation.
What we know of them (celebrities) through People magazine and other media sources fills a gaping and painful void in our lives. The dwindling influence of religion adds to that sense of yearning in people, making the stars' exploits and eccentricities, their loves and losses, more than a form of entertainment.
Religion is faltering, and in the process people are grappling with infantile wishes, with magical thinking.
For the most part, star status conveys a sense of immortality and invincibility -- and we are shocked when they die.
With loved ones, long-standing rituals help people cope. But with celebrities, fans can be at a loss. We don't know quite how to mourn the loss of stars because we don't expect them to die.
Is it appropriate to grieve a star's passing?
When Alabama football coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant, died in 1983 it was like we saw our cultural history disappear. You feel that someone you loved is gone, and it takes time to close the wound. Some of us haven’t gotten over it yet.
When a celebrity passes, the loss is personal -- not because we knew the celebrity but because they were with us as we grew up and as we had our own special moments.
If you're overcome with emotion, it might be satisfying to write down or talk through your feelings, either with a friend or into a tape recorder. Think of it as the loss of a family member and go with it. Although physically gone, deceased celebrities leave their art -- those are the memories.
But in a disposable culture such as today's, the mourning often doesn't last long.
Coach Bryant’s legacy hasn’t been as easy to replace as other celebrities, especially not in our neck of the woods which is the Tide Nation. No one has been able to replace him in our collective consciousness. Nick Saban could be the new replacement. Only time will tell.
When we fall into celebrity worship, we sometimes see that person in a glowing light. Their good qualities dominate the foreground of our perception and their negative qualities. They just don’t seem to have any. We knew Coach Bryant had a negative side. He liked to drink. No reporter dared to talk about his drinking or prescription drug problem while he was alive.
This temporary state of grace is commonly known as putting someone on a pedestal. Often times we put spiritual leaders and our gurus on pedestals. We have all done this to someone at one time or another, and as long as we remember that no one is actually “perfect,” the pedestal phase of a relationship can be enjoyed for what it is-a phase. It’s when we actually believe our own projection that troubles arise.
Everyone has problems, flaws, and blind spots, just as we do. When we entertain the illusion that someone is perfect, we don’t allow them room to be human, so when they make an error in judgment or act in contradiction to our idea of perfection, we become disillusioned.
We may get angry or distance ourselves in response. In the end, they are not to blame for the fact that we idealized them. Granted, they may have enjoyed seeing themselves as perfect through our eyes, but we are the ones who chose to believe an illusion. If you go through this process enough times, you learn that no one is perfect.
We are all a combination of divine and human qualities and we all struggle. When we treat the people we love with this awareness, we actually allow for a much greater intimacy than when we held them aloft on an airy throne. The moment you see through your idealized projection is the moment you begin to see your loved one as he or she truly is.
We cannot truly connect with a person when we idealize them. In life, there are no pedestals-we are all walking on the same ground together. When we realize this, we can own our own divinity and our humanity. This is the key to balance and wholeness within ourselves and our relationships.

John W. Cargile, Msc.D, D.D. is a licensed pastoral psychology counselor. He is a member of the National Education Association and Alabama Education Association. He is the author of a new novel, The Cry of the Cuckoos. www.thecryofthecuckoos.com You can contact him at jwcargile@charter,net. All conversations are confidential.