Michael Jackson and the end of youthfulness

New York is deeply affected by the death of Michael Jackson.  The television and radio stations are playing his songs continuously.  In Macy’s massive, departmental store yesterday – I believe they are on 11 floors but can’t be sure about that – whilst trying on a pair of shoes that give me a slightly more youthful and fashionable air than I am accustomed to displaying, it was genuinely amazing to watch members of staff dancing and singing in the store as Michael Jackson’s music was played over the store’s piped-music system.  Fellow shoppers were singing along with the songs, out loud, uninhibited and without any embarrassment whatsoever.  I ask myself, could I ever imagine such scenes replicated on the floors and in the departments of John Lewis plc in George Street, Aberdeen?  Not likely, is the very polite answer. No, we Brits, and especially we Scots, are much more retentive about our emotions than our transatlantic cousins here in NY.

Nevertheless, the death of Michael Jackson has affected many people worldwide and it takes an effort of the will to achieve that most deft of balancing acts, of acknowledging on the one hand the tragedy of his untimely death, whilst on the other hand resisting being drawn into the public mood of almost compulsory grief for a man one did not know other than through the media of vinvl and video.  I use the word ‘compulsory’ deliberately.  The effect of Michael Jackson’s death over here is quite similar to the effect felt in the UK when Diana, Princess of Wales died. There is widespread grief all over the world, felt by millions, even though none of us knew him.  

We are in the realm of psychologists and psychiatrists now, of course. Why do we grieve when celebrities die? They are unknown to us, and providentially so, for would we continue to admire them if we were able to know them privately?  

There is the business of the deification of ordinary human beings, I suppose.  We set celebs on platforms and stages and then idolize them.  We offer them the adulation we withhold from God, many of us.  Their death or demise strikes us deeply and we are disappointed in precisely the place where we need to be most satisfied, in the place where God alone deserves to be enthroned, in the heart.

There is also, instinct tells me, something personal, even narcissistic about grieving for celebs.  Their music and artistic contributions have been a large and important part of our own lives.  Someone has recently said that Michael Jackson was the sound track to our lives.  In his case, his wonderful music reminds us of key times and moments in our lives.  We recall singing his songs, listening to his music and watching his videos when we were younger, and we remember how we felt at those moments, vibrant, young, full of promise, alive.  We remember that we were young once and in the halcyon days of our lives.

Michael Jackson’s music has helped us over many years to reconnect with our own youthfulness, and his death in some deep and irreversible way breaks that connection with the golden days of our youth and strength.

We are, in some sense, mourning the passing of our own lives, the passing of our own youth and vitality, and we are finding ourselves staring at the unbearable truth that without Christ and a real, personal faith, ‘all is meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” in the words of Ecclesiastes.  

Artists come and artists go.  Kingdoms rise and fall, and kings themselves wax and wane.  And so it is, too, with the prince of pop. Michael Jackson was a true genius, perhaps the greatest musical entertainer ever, albeit seriously flawed in personal terms.  His passing reminds us that youth has left us and that we will also pass on, but faith in Christ promises the renewal of bodily strength and vibrancy, a resurrection.  For those whose faith is in Christ, there is far more ahead than lies behind.

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.  ”Where, O death, is your victory? (1 Corinthians chapter 15 verses 51-55)

Soli Deo Gloria