Father Joseph Grizone retired from active parish
ministry in 1981 due to health concerns.
He then embarked on a second career as an author and has written
numerous books, but none are better known than his nine works in what is called
the ‘Joshua series.’ Joshua is a fictional
character whose simple lifestyle, wisdom about life, and views of religion endear
him to many folks in the small town into which he moves. He is, in reality, Jesus visiting our present
day and age.
Like the Jesus of old, Joshua is a woodworker whose magnificent
carvings are the talk of the community.
They capture the attention of two members of the clergy and each visits
Joshua to commission a sculpture for the church he serves.
The first minister is one Father Jeremy K. Darby, an
obese, pompous Episcopal priest, whose gothic style parish sits prominently at
the north end of the town square. Its
members are among the wealthiest people in the community. Father Darby wears expensive suits and a
Roman collar. He is chauffeured around
town in a slickly polished, finely tuned foreign sedan (by the way, did I
mention that the book is fiction?). He comes
to Joshua’s unassuming shop and says, “I would like a figure of the great
Apostle Peter, a man for whom I have always felt a certain affinity and the
greatest affection. He was the chosen
leader of the Apostles and was established by Jesus as the foundation of the
Church. I envision him as a man of great
proportions and equal dignity, not unlike myself, if I may be permitted to
indulge in a little vanity.”
The other minister is the Pastor Osgood Rowland who
shepherds the town’s Pentecostal Church.
His congregation is poor, black, and located just outside of the city
limits. Its members are without means
and scattered over a wide area of the county.
They make a great effort just to gather each Sunday for worship. As it turns out, Pastor Rowland also requests
a carved a figure of Peter for the Pentecostal Church.
Joshua works long and hard on both sculptures, trying
to capture in each something that will speak powerfully to the congregation for
which it is intended. The day arrives
when the works are completed and, as chance would have, both ministers arrive
at the same time to pick up their figures.
Next to Father Darby Joshua places a sculpture that
depicts Peter on his knees. His
three-tiered tiara is lying disrespectfully in the dirt as he caresses the head
of a dying beggar. The Episcopal priest
is both horrified and offended by the rendering which is not at all like the
great Apostle whom he has come to know and love and on whose life he has
patterned his own.
Next to Pastor Rowland Joshua places a sculpture of
Peter standing in a toga and stole. His
left hand firmly grasps a shepherd’s staff as his right gestures with great
force and determination to direct where the gathered disciples are to go. Its focus on strong authority represents
everything about religion that Pentecostals dislike.
Both men feel certain that Joshua has made a great
mistake in that the carving each was given should have been intended for the
other. Father Darby and Pastor Rowland
decide to trade figures and each returns to his church happy with a carving
that is familiar and comfortable to him.
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus, for the first time,
tells his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem where he will be arrested,
abused, and crucified. Peter, who in
last Sunday’s reading, confessed his belief that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son
of God, just moments later in this reading protests that Jesus must never
undergo these things. Jesus’ response is
sharp, pointed, and blunt, “Get behind me, Satan!” Jesus will not succumb to the temptation to
alter his mission to suit his own desire or the desires of others. His statement to Peter is a warning to all of
us not to worship that which is merely a projection of our own wishes. It is a warning that Father Darby and Pastor
Rowland do not heed.
There is a story about a man who learned of the
existence of a wise old monk and set out on a pilgrimage to ask him a
question. Upon his arrival, the man
knelt before the monk and said, “I have but one thing to ask of you: tell me
this, who is God?” The old monk sat in
silence for several days pondering the question and then said, “Come with
me.” He took the man to an elaborately
carved, ivory cabinet and instructed him to open it. With trembling hands the man reached for the
cabinet and opened its doors only to find another set of doors on the inside. “Continue,” the monk implored. Behind these doors was another set of doors,
and then another, and another. Eventually
the man came to the final door. It was
made of plain, roughly hewn wood, without any decorative carving. “Open this door,” said the monk, “and you
will find the answer to your question.”
Steadying his hand, the man touched the door and gently, slowly pulled
it open. Inside was a small, round
mirror. The man who had come such a long
way was now staring at an image of his own reflection. “Behold your god,” said the monk. “The god you seek is no different than the
god you conceive in your own mind.”
The author of the 115th Psalm rails against
those whose life work is the crafting of idols.
The psalmist says of ‘heathens’ that their idols are the works of human
hands. They have mouths, but cannot
speak; eyes but cannot see; ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell,
hands, but cannot feel; feet but cannot walk.
It is a mocking critique made by one whose God is in heaven and does
“whatever He wills to do.” The
psalmist’s most brilliant observation is that idols bear a striking resemblance
to their makers: “They make their idols like unto themselves”, the author states.
The oft quoted Congregational minister G. Campbell
Morgan once said that the Jesus we want to see is not the Jesus we really need
to see. It is a sobering reminder that
before we can know anything about the true and living God we have to
acknowledge the concept we hold is largely a god of our own making. I find it to true of the people I meet that
the more vehemently they defend their understanding of God and what God would
have us do the more likely that understanding is a projection of their own making. It also seems to be that case that these
people are more blind than others to this reality. Grizone captures this truth brilliantly in his
Darby and Rowland characters.
It may seem odd to hear me say this, but I find that
the more I pursue God the less I actually know about God. It is one of the great paradoxes of the faith
that certainty about God indicates distance while uncertainty is a sign of
approaching. It is only as our
projections onto God – our self-made idols – are peeled away that we can even
hope to begin to know God as God truly is… holy, shrouded in great glory and
awesome mystery, yet somehow made flesh in the person of Jesus of
Nazareth. Short of this, we are bound to
move from idol to idol, trading one image or idea for another in a desperate
attempt to find something that will speak definitively of the Great Eternal
One.
Trading one image for another. That is exactly what Father Darby and Pastor
Rowland did. Each chose a sculpture that
reflected a life-long cherished belief about the Apostle Peter. Interestingly, each found his figure had
become mute. It was as if each carving
had lost its ability to communicate Peter’s cherished qualities. It was Pastor Rowland who telephoned Father
Darby to suggest they make another trade so that each would have the carving
originally intended for him. Father
Darby’s chauffer drove him to the Rowland house to make the exchange. When he arrived he was stunned to discover
the poverty in which the Rowland family lived.
It dawned on him that a man so poor, yet so dedicated to faith, embodied
something important about the Christian faith.
“Osgood,” he said, “I would be honored if you and your family would come
to my home for supper this week.” Pastor
Rowland accepted the offer with great joy.
When Father Darby got back to the parish he placed the
sculpture of the kneeling Peter in the place where the other had been. Immediately it seemed to come alive and something
about the dying beggar’s face caught Darby’s attention. He moved closer to study it only to realize
that the face was his own. The thought
of the great Apostle on his knees caring for him bothered Father Darby at
first. Surely it was beneath Peter to do
such a thing. But then tears welled up
in his eyes as he began to realize that this was not beneath Peter’s dignity at
all, rather it was a quality that made him great. The self-projection of a pompous authority
figure was forever smashed in an instant.
That night, in an act of humility, he donned the driver’s cap, opened
the car door for his chauffer, sat behind the wheel, and drove him home. It was the first time Peter’s life had
informed his, not the other way around.
Today’s reading ends with an invitation, which is also
one of Jesus’ most important teachings:
“If you want to become my follower you must deny yourself, pick up my
cross, and follow me. For if you love your
life you will lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake you will find true
life.” It is as if Jesus is saying, “Do
not make my life to be little more than a reflection of yours. Your life is to be a reflection of mine.”
