Warning: The following article contains some spoilers for the book Theo of Golden by Allen Levi.
Sometimes a book just hits right in the middle of your worldview, and all you can do is be appreciative that someone finally said what was in your heart. And thus, let me share a bit about my new Theo(logy) found in a book by Allen Levi called Theo of Golden.
Rev. Sarah Blackwell
The initial plot device of the story is simple: Theo, a mysterious elderly Portuguese man, arrives in Golden, a small southern town, and becomes captivated with a series of sketched portraits displayed in the local coffee shop. Overcome with their beauty, he decides that he will purchase the portraits and bestow them one at a time to the subject of the artwork in a simple act of generosity. What follows are the types of human interactions that can only happen when people take the time to truly see each other.
At each bestowal, Theo enumerates the qualities he first saw in the face. His candor and detailed assessment often stir up deep emotions in those he meets. Theo sees that which is overlooked, under the surface, and rarely acknowledged. He takes seriously, in a way I have rarely seen, the verse from Genesis 1: “So God created humans in his image in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” He scans each face carefully and tenderly for the very image of God.
For Theo to know and understand God better, he must know and understand the subject of each art piece. He is curious and wants to learn how their context has shaped them into who they are today. He never imposes his judgment or chastises recipients for their life choices. Instead, Theo reminds us that we must take the time to listen more than we talk and observe carefully what we can learn from others. Theo teaches us that to love our neighbor, we must first truly see our neighbor.
Several things about Theo buck the way the world is moving today. For example, Theo lives out the claim “All are Welcome” (which churches across the country make without the unsaid qualifier “as long as you promise over time to change to be exactly what we want you to be”). In the novel, Theo takes a stand for a woman whose mere presence in the church building causes an uproar. He and another established member of the church emphatically remind the people that all are welcome in the House of the Lord. He reminds us that we are all seekers trying to find our way home.
At one point he says, “I wonder if, like newborn children, we go through our entire lives looking for a face, longing for a particular gaze that calms and fills us, that loves and welcomes us, that recognizes and runs to greet us. … It is an imponderable thought that the Giver of Faces, the face of heaven itself, the face for which every heart yearns, became a wee babe, misty eyed and helpless, looking Himself for the tender face of His mother on the night of the angels.” Theo encourages us to keep seeking the One whose face we long to see again.
The created world is also a major character in the novel. The blooming of plants, a wise old tree with the nickname “the eye of God,” delicate fallen feathers, and the ceaseless motion of the river cry out the goodness and justice of God as loudly as the human characters. Throughout the story, Theo’s greatest lessons come from the birds in flight, the whispers of the stream, and the wisdom of the sky. It is reminiscent of God looking out over creation at the end of each day in tenderness and exclaiming, “It is good!” Theo takes it one step further, though, and reminds us what “good” really means: infused with love.
Theo believes “for anything to be good, truly good, there must be love in it. I’m not even sure I know fully what that means, but the older I get, the more I believe it. There must be love for the gift itself, love for the subject being depicted or the story being told, and love for the audience. Whether the art is sculpture, farming, teaching, lawmaking, medicine, music, or raising a child, if love is not in it — at the very heart of it — it might be skillful, marketable, or popular but I doubt it is truly good. Nothing is what it’s supposed to be if love is not at the core.” Theo teaches us to lean into our own giftedness as a sacred art and put love at the true heart of our craft.
Theo also acknowledges sadness and strife. He knows and practices lament — he does not think because of his faith that he should somehow be blessed above others. He notes that “Living with sadness, accepting it, is easier than trying to pretend it isn’t there. It is another of life’s great mysteries that sadness and joy can coexist so compatibly with one another.” Theo holds in tension unbelievable loss with the pleasure that the present moment can bring. He navigates rivers of sorrow under a sky that brings him to tears because of its beauty. His melancholy accompanies him wherever he goes as a faithful companion — not locked away deep within.
Theo explains how the portraits themselves can help the recipients process and deal with their own hardships: “Perhaps I am mistaken but, at some point, if we are wise, we must all confront our sadness, our brokenness, our disappointment. I am quite certain that your portraits help some people, in a very tender and courteous way, to ask themselves, maybe for the first time, ‘Who is that person? What do I know to be true, really true, about that face?’” To know and to be known is the heart of his message. We will treat our neighbors as tenderly as we treat ourselves.
Photo by Palash Kesharwani on Unsplash
Throughout the book, there is a lightness in the touch of the divine. Much like the cover, which displays the delicate features of a feather, the spiritual themes are lightly brushed throughout the book. However, just as the same delicate feather is also strong and helps propel a bird up into the air, the strength of the divine sets the book to flight. The Christian sentiment is so woven into the core of this book that it never feels preachy or heavy-handed as some “Christian” texts can; rather, it is a healing breath that permeates the essence of the book itself. Let’s just say I do not think it is a coincidence that Allan Levi chose the nickname “Theo” (“god” in Greek) for his main character, as he teaches us a better and truer way to see the imago dei in each created human being.
Interestingly, this Theo that has come into my life could be contrasted with some other famous “Theos” right now — specifically “TheoBros.” TheoBro is a nickname given to a group of young conservative evangelical men who espouse Christian Nationalist ideas as well as patriarchal ones. Some go as far as to advocate for the repeal of the 19th Amendment in support of “household voting.” They call for strict public punishment for crimes and a general outlook that everyone and everything outside their bubble is inherently evil. They live in a world where stoking fear brings power and authority.
It is an attractive model for young men who are seeking a place in the world and feel that they can only rise by stepping on others. It is actually not an unexpected movement, as our society has not always done a good job of helping boys and young men process their feelings and self-perception in healthy ways. As in-person communities of support continue to break down, these insecure young adults are turned over to the internet, where they desperately seek belonging. Of course a group where they are told they will return to a place of prominence over women (who are increasingly receiving more formal education than they are) will be attractive to a certain subset that feels left behind.
A reinstatement of male authority, couched in religious language, feeds the TheoBros’ egos and lifts them to a place of seeming dominance. Ironically, it is just this kind of misogyny and brazenness that brings down my Theo in the end. In a horrible scene of entitlement and perceived superiority, a brash group of young men harasses some of Golden’s residents with dire consequences. They display the same kind of bullying and contempt for anyone different from them that has come to pervade the rhetoric of the leaders of the TheoBros.
It seems for a while that these TheoBros will wreak just enough havoc to crush everything that Theo has worked to build, but in the end, there is a resurrection of Theo’s ideals. It is the way of Jesus found through humility, love, community, and grace that wins out. It reminds me once again that if our theology is not bearing fruit — fruits of the spirit like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — it is not of God.
At my recent doctoral hooding ceremony, each ministerial graduate was provided not with a symbol of power or authority but with a simple pitcher and towel as a reminder that true leadership takes place on our knees serving others, just as Jesus did in washing the feet of his disciples. This would be a foreign concept for the TheoBros who thrive on “might making right.” I cannot see adherents like Doug Wilson or Pete Hegseth on bended knee, cleansing the feet of the marginalized. I am sure, though, that Theo of Golden would absolutely be honored to do so.
And so as a church, we must decide if we will fall prey to the fear-mongers that try to pit us against each other in order to spread enough chaos that they can seize control, or if we will take Jesus at his word when he said, “Follow me,” and do the things that Jesus actually did in his life. Will we allow the church to be pulled toward a “cheap grace” where we let our leaders get away with anything as long as they say the right things about being sinful humans and being saved by Jesus, or will we shake off our entitled status as the chosen ones to serve like true cross-bearing disciples of Jesus?
From Theo, I hope we take away this message: “Do good, bestow kindness, strive for beauty, seek and find the river that leads to life everlasting, and draw from the fountain that never runs dry.” Let us stand strong against those who would corrupt the message of Jesus for their own personal gain by stirring up fear and claims of persecution and instead champion a return to love, beauty, and kindness. Let it be so on earth as it is in heaven.
Rev. Dr. Sarah Blackwell is a contributing writer at Word&Way and a graduate of the Gardner-Webb School of Divinity and the McAfee School of Theology. She teaches in the Religion and Philosophy Department at Wingate University. Her intergenerational faith formation book, God is Here is available through Amazon and other online book retailers. Follow her writings at www.proximitytolove.org.
