As I work today, Monday, Aug. 31, I've got my TV on CNN. So far, this

24-hour-a-day news station has focused on two subjects

all day: sports reports and the anniversary of Lady Diana's death.

For most of my adult life I have been trying to figure out the human penchant toward

hero worship.

I can understand why some famous people seem to go out of their way to behave

reprehensibly in public and declare defiantly that they aren't roll models and don't want to

be. By thumbing their noses at their fans (short

for fanatics), they avoid the dehumanizing adoration of the masses.

Diana, as far as I can tell from afar, was probably a pretty nice young lady who fell

in love with a prince, or maybe fell in love with the idea of being in love with a prince.

Who knows?

Yes, it was nice that, when freed from the shackles that came with being part of the

royal family, she used her new-found fame and wealth to support worthy causes. It was

also nice that she had such a warm personality and looked so good on TV.

But I shake my head in wonder when I ponder the difference in the reaction

when Mother Theresa passed away in the same year as Diana.

I'll bet if you asked a hundred people, 75 of them wouldn't even know that Mother

Theresa was a real, living person, if they could

recall ever having heard the name at all. And of

those who know who she was, I'm guessing the majority couldn't tell you where she lived

or give you specific examples of the good that she accomplished during her life.

And that's not surprising, given the paucity of coverage she received in the media

compared to the unending shower of attention lavished on the princess.

She chose a life of poverty and service to God and humanity. She accomplished her

good works in relative obscurity, whereas Diana lived the life of a jet-setter and danced on

the world stage.

Diana's fame was not her own, but was borrowed from her ex-husband, as was

her wealth. She was the media's Barbie doll, the perfect fantasy. But she wasn't perfect.

I'm not saying that Mother Theresa was a saint either, mind you. That remains to be

seen. There are rules about that sort of thing.

I'm also not saying that she was any more superhuman, anymore a goddess, than

the richer and more glamorous princess. Diana, Mother Theresa, Elvis... they all had

their faults, especially Elvis.

Elvis died a drug addict and a desperately lonely poor little rich boy. He was good

looking, sang a catchy tune and shook his legs in some way that caused women to scream

and faint. (And women accuse men of having

their brains in their... well, never mind.)

I don't believe it was the same year, but I seem to recall that Dr. Jonas Salk died

somewhere around the time that Elvis did. We don't have yearly media orgies on the anniversary

of Salk's death, so I can't remember exactly when it was.

In case you didn't know, he's the reason you don't have to live in fear that your children

will develop polio. But, just for the record, he

was human too.

Somehow, at some point in the evolution of society we have got to get a grip and

develop a sense of perspective.

There is only one person who has lived on this earth who is worthy of that kind of

worship and adoration.

If you're desperate to find someone worth worshipping, check him out. He's the

subject of thousands of books, but the best one is

titled Holy Bible.

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