Image Isn’t Everything

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13

            Back in 1990, tennis star Andre Agassi, with his trademark flowing dirty blond lion mane mullet, cut a commercial for the Canon Eos Rebel camera with the iconic tagline, “Image is everything.” The spot featured Andre riding in a Jeep, smoothing back his hair, and generally looking like the essence of California cool. Here’s the spot…

 

            Problem was that Agassi’s trademark hair was actually, well, largely not his. In his 2009 autobiography, Open, Agassi admits that he started losing his hair when he was 17, and was actually wearing a wig during the commercial and on the court — and it cost him the 1990 French Open. Seems that Andre was worried about his hairpiece falling off in the middle of the match, so he played pretty stiff and got beat.

            To his credit, Andre got real about his image after that and shaved off his hair, making his image all about what happened on the court. What he didn’t know, however, was that his signature line, “Image is everything,” would become the mantra of the first two decades of the 21st century.

 After all, how else can you explain Paris Hilton, the Kardashians, and the vapid cast of Jersey Shore and their reality TV ilk — attractive people who are only famous for being famous? Whereas celebrity used to involve a measure of talent, now it’s only about the bling.

            Case and point: there are a number of cottage industries that have arisen out of the culture’s obsession with fame that will give you the celeb treatment without you having to have any celeb cred whatsoever. You may not be a real celebrity, but you can play one in your own mind. Image is everything, but only if you’re willing to pay for it.

             You may not be able to own the runway at the Oscars, but you can borrow a designer dress from a company called Rent the Runway for about $75; just don’t forget to order it in two sizes in case you, um, misjudge the fit. The owners of Rent the Runway say that their business has tripled in a year.

             Need some bling to go with that dress? Jewelry company Adorn will rent you a $24,000 diamond necklace for $260, and a pair of $8,250 earrings like Princess Kate wore at her wedding for just $160 (yes, there’s a security deposit). And Avelle, another company, will rent you a Louis Vitton handbag (retail price $1,680) for just $60 a week.

Of course, none of that will matter if you no one’s looking. Image, after all, is a visual medium. Why not head out on the town in style in a Bentley, Maserati, or Rolls Royce rented from Gotham Dream Cars? A Rolls Royce Phantom convertible will cost you $1,950 a day, which is chump change compared to its retail price of $427,000.

  Paparazzi           And since the whole “image is everything” mantra was started by a camera commercial, what does a fake celebrity need more than a pack of fake paparazzi? Turns out you can rent them, too. Celeb 4 a Day was founded in 2007 by photographer Tania Roberts and operates in four celebrity-rich cities in the U.S.: Los Angeles, San Francisco, Austin, and New York. In LA, $499 will buy you four personal paparazzi to follow your every move and shout questions at you for 30 minutes. You can upgrade to the “MegaStar” package, however, and get a two-hour experience that includes six personal paparazzi, one bodyguard, a publicist, and a limousine.

            Like Cinderella at the ball, however, all this stuff goes back when the rental agreement is up. Image is a commodity that can be bought, rented, or sold, and the market is booming, even in a bad economy. But at the end of the day, when the image goes, what’s left?

            We could argue that the ancient Israelites were as image-obsessed as we are. After they arrived in the Promised Land they started to look at the celebrity kings of the Canaanites and wondered why their own judges, like the old prophet Samuel and his sons, looked so scruffy by comparison (I Samuel 8:1-5). So, they lobbied for a king to govern them — a handsome celebrity action hero to go out and fight their battles for them (8:19-20). Despite Samuel’s warning, they wanted the image of a king who would make them “like other nations.”

            Now, it wasn’t as if God had been down on the whole idea of a king. In Deuteronomy 17, God laid out his prototype of an Israelite king as one who shouldn’t buy into the ancient bling of horses, wives, or money, but should instead keep two copies of the Torah with him so that he should read it as a constant reminder to obey God and not exalt himself over the other members of the community (Deuteronomy 17:14-20). Such a king would not be a celebrity, but a servant.

            By the time of Samuel, however, Israel had conveniently forgotten that God had called them to not be like other nations (Genesis 12:1-3; Exodus 19:5-6), and that God was the real power behind the throne (I Samuel 8:7). They were determined to have the image of a legitimate nation, and told Samuel they were willing to pay the price in material and blood that a royal celebrity would exact (I Samuel 8:11-18).

            So, as God is often wont to do in Scripture, God punished the Israelites by giving them exactly what they wanted: the prototypical image of a tall, dark, and handsome matinee idol monarch. King Saul, however, was like so many celebrities whose shiny outward appearance hides a dark and broken interior life. Saul’s reign quickly started to look like a bad reality TV show. He acts impulsively (I Samuel 13:1-15), swears (14:24-35), disobeys God (15:1-9), kills priests (22:6-19), chucks spears at musicians (18:10-11), consults a witch (28:3-25), and has a poor relationship with his son (20:30-34) among other things. The Israelites, however, seemed to be pleased with the image their king was projecting and knew that they could get Saul to play to the crowd. They badgered Saul into keeping spoils of war that God had strictly commanded them to destroy (15:1-9, 24).

            God, however, had already determined that Saul’s style was fully lacking in substance and was sorry he had allowed the bling king to be crowned, thus he commands Samuel to anoint a new king (15:34-16:1). Samuel travels to the out-of-the-way village of Bethlehem for what can only be described as a runway fashion show of potential kings among the sons of Jesse. Eliab, the oldest, certainly looked the part—tall and handsome like Saul. Samuel leans over to God like a fashion critic, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord” (16:6). But God has seen enough of this reality show. In one of the most poignant lines in Scripture, God lays out the criteria for those who will take a starring role on the stage of Israel’s history. “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (16:7).

            What matters to God is not the image we create, but his own image in us. God cuts through all the appearances and masks we love to wear for each other, and looks deep into the real self that’s often hidden under all those layers of makeup, material things, and make-believe roles we play. In the case of the new king, God was looking for a man after his own heart—not the oldest, wisest, strongest, or handsomest. David was that man, even though he was only the youngest boy—so young that he was not even considered by his father as being worthy to stand with the rest of his sons on the runway (16:11).

David anointed            Samuel anoints David the young boy David “in the presence of his brothers,” which had to be a real shock to them (16:13). Sure, he was “ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome,” but he was still just a kid — hardly a person yet in those days. And yet, David will have a relationship with God by which all other kings in the Old Testament get measured.

             The image of God is everything. We were created in God’s image for a purpose. David is chosen for the specific purpose of leading his people with no pretense and with no resume. Each of us is chosen for a purpose that has nothing to do with fame, fortune, or face time on TV. Our purpose is to reflect the image of God in us and no other, and to live as people who authentically love and are loved. God defines our true identity as his created and loved image, and then calls us to live out that identity in community for the whole world.

            Indeed, Scripture tells us over and over again that God does his best work through those whom the rest of the world wouldn’t give 15 seconds of attention, let alone 15 minutes of fame: people like this poetic little shepherd, a bunch of working class fishermen, and a host of sinners like us. It’s through the weakest and least likely that God’s glory is able to shine brightest. As Paul puts it in 1 Corinthians, “But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

Appearances can be deceiving. God looks at the heart. The only image that matters is God’s image in us.

Few, if any, of us will ever be famous to the rest of the world, but we can be famous to someone. One of my favorite poems is title "Famous" by Naomi Shihab Nye, which captures, I think, the reality that all of us matter and that fame is relative:

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,   

which knew it would inherit the earth   

before anybody said so.  

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds   

watching him from the birdhouse.   

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.   

The idea you carry close to your bosom   

is famous to your bosom.   

The boot is famous to the earth,   

more famous than the dress shoe,   

which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it   

and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.   

I want to be famous to shuffling men   

who smile while crossing streets,   

sticky children in grocery lines,   

famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,   

or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,   

but because it never forgot what it could do.   

     “Famous” from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Portland, Oregon: Far Corner Books,         1995). Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye.   Source: Words under the Words: Selected         Poems (Far Corner Books, 1995)

Indeed, we are all famous to the only audience that matters—we are famous to God. It’s God’s picture of us that is the most clearly focused and long-lasting. May we be people who skip the bling and, instead, strive to be the picture he created us to be.

 

 

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