Volume 27, No. 15
April 28, 2002

Just Joshing

   Joshua Norton had a King-size delusion, but he got royal treatment anyway.  

   In 1853, the wealthy San Francisco businessman risked everything in the rice market and lost both his fortune and his mind.  Convinced he was the Emperor of California, he soon promoted himself to Emperor of the United States.  With the Civil War looming, Norton issued laws that abolished the Congress, dissolved the union and gave him the powers of the presidency.

   Then, over the years, a strange thing happened.  People began to treat Joshua Norton as if he really were the Emperor.  Railways and riverboat companies gave him free, lifetime passes, the California Senate gave his a special chair in the chamber and -- when theatres let him in without a ticket -- audiences would stand as the Emperor entered.  Some local businesses even honoured the 25 and 50-cent banknotes Norton printed himself.

   When police arrested him for lunacy, the judge chastised them, saying the man “had shed no blood, robbed no one, and despoiled no country, which is more than can be said for most fellows in the king line.”  Even City Hall got in on the act, picking up the tab for Norton’s “Imperial Palace”, a 50-cent-a-night room in a local boarding house.  When the King’s collection of old military uniforms and funny hats wore out, the city bought him a new set of clothes from one of the best shops in town.

   Emperor Norton the First died in 1880 at the age of 61.  A millionaire’s club paid for a lavish funeral attended by more than 10,000 people who came to see his majesty lie in state during one of the most extravagant send-offs in San Francisco’s history.

   Today, millions of people treat Jesus just like Joshua Norton.  They don’t believe in His divinity, majesty or authority, but they play along, offering Him the superficial symbols of loyalty and allegiance.  Even among many Christians, the laws of Jesus have no real force.  His claims to sovereignty get little more than lip service.  Any notion that He rose from the dead is met with a wink and a nod.

   Though many still give Jesus a seat of honour in church services and pay for the upkeep of His spiritual house, they consider Him wholly human.  At best, He was a fine teacher and a good man.  At worst, He was hopelessly but harmlessly deluded, just like Norton.  Either way, their Jesus is dead; His influence now merely ceremonial.

   Who we think Jesus is will determine what we believe and how we behave. “Who do you say I am,” He once asked His followers.  Peter replied, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” That’s the Rock-solid premise on which the church is built (Matthew 16:13-18).

   Time and again, Jesus laid claim to His special relationship with God.  “I am the way, the truth and the life,” He said.  “No one comes to the Father, except through Me.” (John 14:6).  Critics wanted to kill Him for claiming equality with God (John 5:17,18). And the truth is, if Jesus wasn’t the Lord, He was either a lunatic or a liar.  Most skeptics believe He was sincere but self-deceived.  

   But if we look at the life of Jesus, there’s no sign of psychological turmoil.  Instead, He shows incredible composure under extreme pressure.  His deep, sane and serene teachings stand in sharp contrast to the erratic thinking of the severely mentally ill.  In fact, Christ’s character matched His claims, He repeatedly demonstrated the power of God, He reshaped the world using only His love and example, and He settled the matter of His identity once and for all by coming back from the dead. On a more personal level, we can know the real Jesus by watching the way He works in our prayers and lives to accomplish His purpose for each of us.  He is the perfect, powerful Son of God who brings us meaning and purpose.

   If we let pride or a patronizing spirit blind us to the proper response, we’re the ones who are mad.

By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the Followers of Christ congregation in Brantford, Ontario, Canada.  Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications.