What Is Fame?

Six weeks ago my wife gave birth to our second son, Soren.  While on paternity leave until this past week, the recurring thought in my head was, "Well, now I won't be able to write, with two kids running around."  For me, this was a major problem.

Earlier versions of this blog said, "On the road to being famous," or something like that.  I had hoped to chronicle the early stages of a famous writer's career.  The idea seemed cool.  Well, that idea still seems cool, but the chances of my becoming a famous writer are dwindling by the day and, now that I'm a pastor, actively desiring to be famous may not be the best goal for me.  Regardless, the dream still resides deep down in my mind and heart.  It's not so much that I want to be famous but that I want people to read my work, for their sake, for the sake of asking challenging and needful questions about how we can and should live well and with God.  Now it seems it may be time to put my dream away entirely.  Throw it away.

On the other hand, my recent experience has also brought to my memory a book that a good friend of mine (who I haven't talked to in a long time, because I'm a terrible friend.  Sorry, Alexandra!  I hope you and the family are doing well!) lent to me: The World According to Garp.  Apparently Robin Williams starred as Garp in a film of the same name about thirty years ago.  In the book, and probably the movie, too, Garp gains some notoriety writing fiction, but then he gets married and has children and essentially becomes busy with being a stay-at-home dad.  He earns satisfaction from being a good dad but, eventually, he has problems with his marriage, himself, and society because he isn't writing any more.  He isn't being who he knows he is.  So he starts writing again... until he's assassinated.  If it weren't for that, Garp would have written again.  Likewise, I recently heard an interview with Michael Chabon about his new book of essays on fatherhood, Pops: Fatherhood in Pieces.  The introduction to the book tells the story of how a famous writer told Chabon, right before the publication of his first book and shortly before his wedding, that Chabon should never have kids.  Kids, this writer said, would interfere with his writing and he simply would not have the output he could have with kids.  Chabon clearly decided kids were worth writing less, though, because he's had four.  Maybe, then, it's possible to have kids and be a writer and I just need to calm down, wait for a year or two before they're older and less needy and tiresome.

As I have pondered the one hand and the other hand--thinking I need to totally dedicate myself to fatherhood, or incorporating writing into fatherhood--I've come to ask the questions, "What's the point, anyway?  Why do I want to be a writer?  Why do I want to be famous?  What is fame?" 

There is no question that, from a Christian perspective, fame is one step away from sinful egoism; and wanting to be famous is itself sinful egoism.  Is it possible, though, to want to be famous in a good way?  My college entrance essay was about how I'd like to be Tom Brady for a day to use my fame for good purposes.  The Catholic school I attended loved it.  It's a great idea.  Fame also provides a platform, and probably lots of money, to serve the world.  I like to think that my desire to be famous, as I've said, fits into the latter category of fame, of serving the world.  My writing is almost entirely aimed at encouraging provocative reflection and therefore a deepening of faith and faithful practice.  That's good.

The more I've thought about it, though, the more I've realized that whether or not fame is okay, and therefore whether or not it's okay to want to be a writer, misses the point anyway.  By the way, you can fill in whatever your dream is to replace my dream of writing.  We all have dreams of doing something and being so good at it that people see us and shout, "Hey that's so and so, the great ______ (fill in the blank)."  But why is that?  Why do I say that I want to write and be famous?  Why do we tag fame onto our dream?  Indeed, why is fame the dream itself?  Even if we pretend or genuinely believe that our fame could serve the world, why is fame a part of the equation at all? I don't know the answer to these questions.  Whatever the answer to 'why' I do know that Jesus's words, "Whoever wants to be great must be a servant," are critical.  If we want to be great, if we want to be famous, we can't think about it, or else we won't be great. 

And here's what I've discovered, here's the only mental space I've found that can provide me peace and contentment as well as a motivation and drive to be a writer, to do the thing I dream about and think about constantly: if we are gifted in a certain way, whether it be writing, plumbing, selling jewelry, whatever, then we do that thing simply because we are gifted in that way.  Doing and practicing our gift is the fame, is the reward, regardless of how other people perceive us.  Doing and practicing our gift is a virtue. 

Indeed, the meaning of 'virtue,' rightly understood, is something practiced.  People are not born virtuous.  Virtue must be practiced, and the reward of the virtues is in the practicing.  Being virtuous does not give us good things and happiness in life; being virtuous and practicing the virtues are themselves good and happiness. 

What this means is that whatever our dream is, we should do it and follow our dream for no other reason than that it is what we do, it is who we are.  For me, I should write not because it might lead to fame, not because others might think well of me, not because I can serve the world, but only because writing is what I do and who I am.  Essentially, I think, this is what Garp came to discover.  And Michael Chabon, as he realized that it didn't matter if having kids would interfere with writing as much as he could.  What Chabon knew and knows is that he is a writer.  That's what he does, that's who he is, and he can do no other.  He is particularly gifted, as are many other writers, to be able to make a living out of his dream, out of his identity and virtue, but we shouldn't necessarily aim to make a living or become famous from our dreams, from our identities.  We just do them because that's what we do, that's who we are.  So that's what I'll do.  I want my kids to see that their dad carves out time to do what he is gifted to do, to do what he feels an inner calling to do, even if it means spending less time with them.  As long as I don't become like the father in the "Cats in the Cradle" song, I think that's a good lesson.

Of course, I can add that, for we Christians, we do what we do because God has called us to.  If God calls us to do something, it's best to obey and not question why God has gifted us in certain ways for certain tasks.  Now, I'm not one that likes that word, 'obey,' even with God.  I like my independence.  Part of the argument in my book, Created Human Divinity, is an attempt to maintain parts of our independence from God.  Yet still, if a divine and all-powerful God has given us certain gifts for certain tasks, will it do us any good to ask why?  Or hope to become famous?  Probably not.  So best just to do what God has given us the power and dream to do.

Maybe I won't sell more than 100 copies of anything I publish.  Oh well.  I now realize that's fine, as long as I'm using the gifts God has given me.  That's what matters.  You should agree, too, because I'm telling you, no other attitude will provide the same peace, contentment, and motivation to use our God-given gifts and live our best life, especially with kids running around 'interfering' with our dreams. 

And besides, as someone recently reminded me, Soren Kierkegaard only sold a few hundred copies of his works in his lifetime and now... well, now his work has become critically important to thousands, myself included.