Article December 11, 1995 Issue

When our heroes are gone

Rosalie E. Dunbar

I Was a teenager working weekends as a dishwasher in a club when Marilyn Monroe died of a drug overdose. I had known nothing of her personal life. I had simply admired her glamour and talent. That she had been a poor kid, too, and had become famous made me feel—even though I never considered myself beautiful—that maybe I could make something of my life.

At the time, it took me quite a while to work my way through feelings of grief and frustration over her death. I began to understand, although very slowly, that however widely admired particular human beings may be, we shouldn't pin our hopes on them. They can make mistakes and disappoint us. And when they pass from our lives, we may feel left alone.

That's why I find Christ Jesus' life so interesting. Here was a man who didn't glorify any human heroes. He certainly respected Abraham and the prophets who had lived before him, yet he saved his deep love and worship for God alone. At one point he told some of the Jews: "I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath taught me, I speak these things. And he that sent me is with me: the Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him" (John 8:28, 29). He knew that God wasn't like a human being, changeable and sometimes unworthy of trust. This worship of God alone made Jesus a wonderful teacher and healer—and obedient to God's guidance.

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