The Episcopal Diocese of Tennessee



Proper 21, Year A, September 25, 2011, St. Michael’s Church Cookville

“And being found in human form, he humbled himself…” (Phil. 2:7-8).

“Star quality:” that unique something, that charisma, that raises some people above the ordinary condition of everyday folk and makes them seem larger than life. Someone coined the phrase “the glitterati” to describe folks with this quality: the sort of people who appear on TV and in glossy magazines but almost never live next door. Part of the charm of “American Idol” is that ordinary folks get promoted to star status, or at least get their shot at it. Of course there’s a bit of noblesse oblige that goes with being a star: you can “friend” celebrities on Facebook or receive “tweets” from them but it’s a bit different from actually being friends. Everyone knows the difference.

Of course if you’re in contact with a celebrity you might pick up a little hint of this metaphorical glitter yourself. I think my daughter got a little dusting of this at a Taylor Swift concert last weekend, which is perhaps why contact with the live artist (even far removed on the stage) remains so popular. Walker Percy in his novel The Moviegoer writes about a honeymoon couple who run into the actor William Holden walking in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The young man gives Holden a light for his cigarette and catches a bit of his glitter in the process. Percy writes, “Holden moves down [the street] shedding light as he goes. An aura of heighted reality moves with him and all who fall within it feel it” (The Moviegoer, p. 16). You see, Holden has “star quality;” like any star, he’s larger than life, among us but not like us.

But “star quality” didn’t start with modern celebrity. It goes back to the ancient world, where “star quality” was the possession, not of actors or musicians or sports figures, but of the Roman Emperor and other royal rulers. The way it worked in Jesus’ day was that the Emperor or King was “divinized:” promoted to the pantheon of gods at some point where he was worshipped and honored as a divine presence in the world. In the Roman Empire, this tended to happen earlier and earlier as time went on: Emperors first were promoted at their deaths, but later were declared to be gods when they began to reign. In either case, the ruler moved from ordinary mortal to “star quality” person, “shedding light as he goes” in the words of the novelist. The Emperor provided a sort of “celebrity glue” that held the Empire together, and his “star quality” was a major point of friction between the pagan authorities and the early Christians who refused to honor anyone except Jesus as Lord. “I am the Lord thy God: thou shalt have no other gods before me” (Ex. 20:3) as it says in Exodus. “Star quality,” in the view of the Church, was nothing more than idolatry. Maybe there’s more than a little truth in the name “American Idol”.

Thanks for bearing with me through this long preamble, because it finally brings us to our second reading, from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. Here we see the contrast between the ancient Roman system and the revelation of God in Christ. The Roman system of “divinization” promoted ordinary mortals into the higher world of divine presence, while the Christian Gospel proclaims that the One who was equal to God, the bearer of the Divine Life, entered human life as a human being, “in human form” as Paul tells us today. The movement, you see, is in the opposite direction: not from human to divine but from divine to human. Humility is the main theme, not promotion as it was with the Romans, and there’s the thrust of the Gospel. Divine humility, condescending to our humble state; God’s Son becoming human, taking human flesh in order to live and die as one of us so that we may share the divine life.

If Jesus Christ has “star quality” it’s not because he’s one of the “glitterati,” grasping at celebrity, but because he’s willing to be with us, to be obedient even to death. “Therefore God also highly exalted him” (Phil. 2:9), as Paul says. But his divine form is not something to be exploited. The fundamental movement is unchanged: Jesus emptying himself, becoming nothing, willing to take “the form of a slave” (Phil. 2:7) as it says and to be humiliated on the cross, giving himself for us. Here is a star whose whole purpose is to live next door and to be with the people. That’s divine presence in the world: the form of a servant, giving not taking, reconciling not exploiting.

“Let the same mind be in you as it was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5). So here we see the point for us in our Christian lives. The grain of truth in the notion of “star quality” is the idea that we can be transformed by contact with the divine. We come to this altar for Holy Communion, to share his Body and Blood; we’re baptized into his Name, and take upon us his own Name as Christians. We can lead a new life in Jesus Christ, sharing divine life through his sharing of our own human life. I know there are a few stars here in this congregation. There’s no grasping involved, but a profound humility. It’s changing our lives and making them like his. “Let the same mind be in you as it was in Christ Jesus.” We see it in our confirmands today, who are willing to stand up and be counted; but it’s also true for us, who have our own chance to reaffirm our baptismal vows. “Let the same mind be in you as it was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5), as Paul says in our reading. Now that’s “star quality,” and it’s what he shares with us.

- The Rt. Rev’d John Bauerschmidt, Bishop of Tennessee 

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