How many famous people have you met? Perhaps more than you realize, when you consider how in our expanding and complex world a person can achieve relative fame in a given field, while remaining anonymous to most.

Fame is a pretty lame measure of a person’s character or “worth.” Contemporary society lavishes it on “entertainers,” primarily from sports and a variety of media. Even in these highly visible fields, though, there is so much competition for attention that only an anointed few gain recognition beyond their personal fans.

The subject of notoriety is on my mind now due to the traditional January publications of lists of those who passed during the previous year.

I was surprised to see the names of two people I had met and conversed with on World Magazine’s 2024 account. And only a small number of you will recognize either of their names. After all, a figure’s prominence is frequently restricted to a particular audience, and fame, after all, is notoriously fleeting.

Fame, or notoriety, is not the true measure of a man or woman. In fact, as C.S. Lewis wrote, “even posthumous fame depends largely on accident” (English Literature in the Sixteenth Century).

David Soul was an actor and singer who starred in Starsky & Hutch. His song “Don’t Give Up on Us” topped the Billboard charts.

I met Soul back in the late 70s, when he spoke at an environmental conference. His father was also a Lutheran pastor. We were able to chat for a while at several points during the conference.

The other individual I saw on the list was a man I got to know far better.

Jim Otto was a center for the Oakland Raiders. As a teen and young adult, I was impressed by his Hall of Fame performance, and the fact that he never let an injury keep him from playing. In fact, Otto never missed a game during his 1960-1974 football career.

And then there was his unique jersey number, in honor of his name – 00. Here’s what NPR said about this exceptional athlete who had continued actively supporting the Raiders after their relocation to Vegas, and up to this very year:

Otto joined the Raiders for their inaugural season in the American Football League in 1960 and was a fixture on the team for the next 15 years.

He never missed a game because of injuries, competing in 210 consecutive regular-season games and 308 straight total contests despite undergoing nine operations on his knees during his playing career. His right leg was amputated in 2007.

“He’s a warrior,” former Raiders quarterback Rich Gannon once said. “When you think of the old-time, tough Raider, you think of Jim Otto.”

Of course, like all premier athletes who are genuinely good people, Otto may have been a true warrior on the field, but he remained an unpretentious and compassionate person in everyday life.

I got to know him when we served together on a planning team for a major Christian conference in Sacramento. I even visited him in the hospital, along with his own pastor, while he was having back surgery in Los Angeles.

Fame is not Always Beneficial

Fame is not, of course, intrinsically positive. In our modern era, people often gain it for disturbing reasons. And many of those who sought it end up resenting its demands and desiring anonymity.

I would commend to you a prayer I prayed as I composed this post: Thank you, Lord, for shielding me from fame. 

Naturally, if you do happen to find fame unavoidable, you can use it for good purposes, like promoting worthwhile causes. But count me as one of those who is utterly content in simply being trusted (and perhaps even respected), by those who know me best.

We’ll close with another profound thought offered by C.S. Lewis. In a 1949 letter to his friend Don Giovanni Calabria, Lewis described how he felt his literary skills decreasing. And, in genuine humility, he ponders whether it might be a divine blessing for him to lose the public renown which had become a burden.

As for my own work, I would not wish to deceive you with vain hope. I am now in my fiftieth year. I feel my zeal for writing, and whatever talent I originally possessed, to be decreasing; nor (I believe) do I please my readers as I used to. I labour under many difficulties. . . .

These things I write not as complaints but lest you should believe I am writing books. If it shall please God that I write more books, blessed be He. If it shall please Him not, again, blessed be He. Perhaps it will be the most wholesome thing for my soul that I lose both fame and skill lest I were to fall into that evil disease, vainglory.

The great irony here is two-fold. Not only has C.S. Lewis’ reputation continued to grow since his passing, so has Father Calabria’s. In fact, after his own death, Lewis’ friend was canonized a Roman Catholic saint.

I have no doubt that had he been asked if he deserved such an honor, he would have vociferously objected. That is because one essential quality of Christian discipleship is humility. In the Vatican description of his life, it notes “he served all, offering himself to do the most humiliating and courageous tasks.”

Now that is an example well worth following.