When I first heard that our adult education class at Grace was going to read Theo of Golden, I admit I was not pleased at all. My immediate thought was how a novel could teach us anything about religion. Boy, was I wrong, for the first time in ages!! The book taught me and the class a lot about religion and human kindness. I no longer think that a book about theology must be 500 pages, with copious footnotes, and an exhaustive bibliography.
Had I taken Greek at Southeastern Louisiana University and not Spanish for two years, I would have known that Theo meant “gift of God.” However, I soon discovered that Theo of the town of Golden (actually Columbus, Georgia) was going to be a “gift of God” and a gift from God. I don’t think it was a coincidence that the author chose Theo to arrive in Golden just before Easter because Theo would prove himself to be a “Divine Gift” from God. We found out that at the end of the book Theo was in Golden to turn his heart and mind to his long lost son. I have even given thought to re-titling the book: “Theo of Golden—The Return of the Prodigal Father.” I may be wrong, but Theo is about unconditional love, repentance, and forgiveness. After a second reading, I now think Theo is actually the sinner, who has strayed, made mistakes, and became lost in his highly successful life as an internationally famous artist. Theo is on a human journey of finding his true purpose, healing, and redemption. In a sense he has hit rock bottom and yearns to connect with his talented son. Oh, by the way, there is one more feature that is similar to the “Prodigal Son” parable. There is Pierce, Asher’s brother, who is self-righteous and irritated at the end of the book that Asher, who is extremely wealthy, chooses his days drawing pictures of people’s faces. We should have known that Theo was not an ordinary dude. He arrived by a private jet to Atlanta and then by a chauffeur-driven Lincoln Town Car. Shouldn’t this be the way a “gift of God” should arrive? This is his only ostentatious display, but the residents of Golden never saw it. He planned it that way because he wanted to fly away from his former life. Theo of Golden does not attempt to preach to us; it inspires us to be like Theo who is fully human with faults and sins in his past. To me Theo reminded me of Christ. Like Christ, who was with us for only a short while, Theo was only in Golden for about a year as he showed the residents how to live and treat each other with kindness and love. His treatment of Ellen, the homeless woman, was definitely Christ-like. He cared for the poor and the lame like Lamisha. The purchasing of the pencil portraits of the people of Golden and putting them in the hands of the rightful owners fostered friendship and altered the lives of the recipients and Theo. The gifts were acts of kindness. These acts of kindness were countered by Ellen’s recounting of one of the most hurtful events of her life—the loss of her child to the bureaucracy of society. Theo’s response was Christian-like, gut wrenching, and appropriate for our lives today: “The older I get, the more convinced I am that every hurt the world has ever known is somehow the fault of every person who ever lived. Maybe not directly and never entirely, but somehow, I fear, we own all of the world’s hurts together.” A recent review of Theo Golden thrashed it for being a “display of Christian-less Christianity.” Apparently, he never read the aforementioned quote of Theo. Theo later states the following: “There is another teaching about kindness. Do not let your left hand know what your right is doing. In other words, do good but try to do it without notice or hope of reward.” This Christian-like response to the journalist wanting to write about his activities in Golden was a paraphrase of Matthew 6:3-4. Theo of Golden reeked with Christian like sayings: “Bad mercy doesn’t hurt nearly like bad justice.” Then there is this one which I loved: “God gave us faces so we can see each other better.” The recounting of taking Communion in a foxhole in Vietnam was heartbreaking. For Theo the death of Tony’s friend Bobbo “was an end. A terrible end. But maybe not the end. Maybe an end with a future.” This is Theo proclaiming the hereafter. Remember it was the Easter season in Golden at this time. Oh, by the way. Allen Levi is Episcopalian. I don’t know if Allen Levi had any knowledge about the teaching of Brother Lawrence. However, I found many of the traits of Brother Lawrence in the character of Theo. The monk’s road to spirituality had been sparked by the Godliness that he found in nature. Theo saw a twisted old trunk as “a permanent scream, a memorial to some horror it might have witnessed long ago. . . in the soul of such a tree.” Theo’s year in Golden allowed him to witness “trees go through a full cycle of seasons: tiny springtime buds becoming oblong, hand sized leaves” and “cups becoming thumb-sized acorns.” After a second reading Theo 0f Golden I sensed that his ongoing relationships with the residents of Golden was a sincere dialogue with God. His letters were uncomplicated gestures of his genuine affection. His engagement with God was through his continuous conversations and letters with his new friends of Golden. Unfortunately, Asher has only the letters of Theo to cherish when finds out Theo was his father. Had there been a physical meeting between the two, I am positive Asher would have met Theo with open arms and love. In the end I ask myself did God send Theo to Golden to fulfill the mission he had set for himself in beginning a relationship he long desired with his son Asher? Theo arrived in Golden as a sincere, spiritual, and humble man. It was only after his tragic death did Golden recognize his greatness. Does this sound familiar?
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