where does a superstar go to resign?
and how do they step off their pedestal
when the red carpets stop
at the dizzying top
and the only way down looks so terrible?
what does it take to resist the allure
of privilege, power and position,
when the noblest intent
any good that was meant
is so readily choked by ambition?
why does it seem such an easy mistake
to trust in the famous and fashionable?
we raise them on high,
puff and praise them, then cry
that their downfall is somehow irrational.
when will we learn that the bravest and best
mask the weak and the flawed and the twisted?
they’ll fail and they’ll fall
just the same as us all:
we’ve shared brokenness since we existed.
can our applause still be weighted with truth,
minimise all this crashing and burning?
sift blind adulation?
shelve wild expectation?
a hard yet respectful unlearning.
so let all our heroes and champions and saints
be cheered on with feet on the ground;
our generous praise
flow through honesty’s gaze,
lest it burden both crowner and crowned.
An earlier version of this poem was published several years ago on this blog. It concluded with: and give our acclaim | to the humblest great Name | the only One worthy to crown and a reference to Philippians 2. Initially I wrestled with changing the ending, concerned I was downplaying my faith in Christ. The piece can indeed (for those of Christian faith) be a reminder that Christ is our only true king. It’s also, though, about the universal human addiction to the cult of celebrity, which is an ever-increasing danger in global society for people of all faiths and of none. The revised ending reflects the constant challenge to resist this.
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