Here’s a strange thing we do when famous people die. We become their biographers. Not real biographers, obviously. More like emotional interns hastily assigned to the “Say Something Nice” department.
Celebrity dies. Internet springs into action. Within minutes, people who never met them are overcome with the urge to publicly affirm that the deceased was a “beautiful soul.”
Death has a way of laundering reputations. No matter how they spent their time on Earth, once they’re gone we sift through their history to find at least one redeeming anecdote. If you trained pit bulls to maul children, someone at your funeral will talk about how gentle you were with puppies. Death turns villains into ‘complex’ saints overnight.
Christians are especially prone to this. We are very nervous about saying anything that sounds like judgment. At funerals and on social media, the message becomes clear: this person was decent. Not perfect, but decent. Sure, they had some questionable beliefs, or a criminal record, or a long-standing relationship with substances that should not be in the body, but hey, image of God.
This impulse sabotages the gospel. Christianity does not say people are mostly good with a few quirks. It says no one is good. Without Christ, everyone is lost. That’s actually the whole point of our religion. Yet the moment a famous person dies, we panic and toss that doctrine straight into the casket with them.
Once someone (anyone) dies, their fame, generosity, humor, creativity, talent, sincerity, work ethic, and charm become irrelevant. All that matters is whether they belong to Christ. This is basic Christianity. We say it boldly every other day of the year. Then a celebrity dies and we go mute about Jesus and start listing the dead person’s virtues.
“John, you jerk! You want to trash people after they die? What good does that do? Church attendance is already down and now you’re kicking corpses?”
Dead people are completely unaffected by our words. They do not benefit from our praise. They are not wounded by our criticism. Funerals are not for the dead. They are for the living. What we say is meant to instruct, comfort, or warn those still breathing.
And in case you’re not outraged enough, I’ll add this: saying untrue positive things about someone is not morally superior to smearing them. A lie doesn’t become virtuous just because it’s polite. False accusations are wrong because they’re false and false praise is wrong for the exact same reason. You don’t excuse someone for bearing false witness against the living, yet you think death suddenly turns dishonesty into compassion.
You’re not required to post a tribute, offer commentary, or manufacture reverence. If you don’t know the person, or can’t speak truthfully without turning dishonest, you can just be quiet. That’s wisdom. Silence is always available for use and these days it’s vastly underrated.
(Hebrews 9:27) And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.
