Death of a celebrity.

By now you have probably heard about the death of Heath Ledger, an actor known for roles in movies like “Brokeback Mountain” and the upcoming Batman sequel where he is the Dark Knight’s nemesis, the Joker.

I thought it was quite fitting that in his final role before he exited this earth that Ledger chose to portray a character whose permanently and joyfully contorted face belied the emotional maelstrom that churned underneath.

I don’t know all of the facts and some are purporting that perhaps Ledger had overdosed on drugs (prescription or not) and suffered from depression.  But even if these hypotheses are untrue, are they inapplicable to any other young actor’s death in Hollywood?

The life of a celebrity is symbiotic at best and parasitic at its worst.  You are dependent on the adoration of others for your survival, yet that adoration does not give way to love or anything that is remotely sustainable.  The Oscar awards are nothing more than Hollywood patting itself on its collective back, a pageantry that is the quintessential answer to the eternal existential conundrum…if no one watched it, it would not exist. 

Celebrities may have our admiration, but they do not have our respect.  Why else do you think that those at the pinnacle of their career all of a sudden decide to devote their lives to causes of humanity?  Perhaps it is also because they realize that fame and fortune do nothing for the soul.  And so they turn to satiating desires of the highest intensity…drugs, alcohol, sex and—dare I say—mail-order motherhood.

You cannot find redemption in a bottle, nor can you find peace in a pill.  Like is not the same as love, and a heart that tries to find warmth from without will always be cold within.

It is only fitting in this world that worships the celebrity as deity would the death of an attractive young actor ignite the blogosphere and media and cause more uproar than a deranged man throwing 4 children off of a bridge.

Many Hollywood legends have chosen to kill themselves with their own vices, while the Invisible Children in Uganda suffer without choices.  While the former is sad, it is the latter that is truly tragedy.

So where does that leave you and I, dear friends?  There is nothing wrong in mourning the death of Heath Ledger.  But the mourning should not just be for his death, but for the society that produced it.

I would not trade grace and forgiveness for all the gold in the world, neither would I do the same for its unending adoration.  And like I have said before, when it is my turn to go I will go down clutching hope instead of despair, because I have to believe in something.

So believe in yourself, believe in love, believe in redemption and forgiveness.  

But most of all, dear friends, believe in hope.