The Fourth Truth

When Joe woke up that morning, it was nine o’clock by the boat’s clock. He decided to get to Rocky’s friend’s house as quickly as he could. He didn’t have much to do other than grab his backpack, lock the pilothouse and leave. The tide was out, so now he had to climb up to the dock. At the end of the dock he turned toward the city. It appeared from the map that it was about three miles to his destination. He assessed his money. He had about eighty dollars left from what Abigail gave him since Sharon had not charged him for anything. Then there was the ‘cupla hunert bucks’ Rocky had given to him as a ‘birthday’ present, that turned out to be three hundred. So he had plenty of money, and could have hailed a cab, but he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone so he decided to walk.

At first most of the buildings were warehouses. Then Joe passed businesses that orbited around the fishing and boating trade. He saw places that sold navigation equipment, places that chartered boats for fishing, and places that sold boats. But soon these legitimate businesses began to be replaced by other kinds. He passed a strip bar, then a massage parlor, several more bars and finally a porno movie theatre. Joe had seen places like this before, he’d even been in a few, but now that he’d become a follower of The Way, it was all different. What used to be an enticement, now seemed like an assault. The marquees and advertisements alone were almost more than he could bear. But then, people began to grab his attention. He saw a man asleep-or unconscious-in a doorway. As Joe passed he was sickened by the strong stench of cheap wine and urine. Then another doorway and another man with the same results. Looking down an alley, Joe saw a ragged mongrel dog sniffing at paper bag in the hand of a man prostrate on the asphalt. Down another alley he saw a man and a woman…he didn’t want to think what they were doing and he hurried on. But then a woman in a miniskirt and halter top approached him. “Hey, cutie, you want a good time?” “No!” Joe shouted at her. He began to jog, but still he was assaulted by the dregs of humanity. There was an abortion clinic on his left, and an adult bookstore on his right. Then he passed a whole block of bars: stripper bars, gay bars, S & M bars, biker bars, & transvestite bars lined both sides of the street. Joe saw people who had pierced or tattooed virtually every conceivable part of their body. He saw men, women and children so stoned they didn’t know where they were. He saw legless Vietnam vets with signs asleep against a wall. He saw homeless men with shirts on but no pants. He saw a group of runaways huddling together under an overpass sharing a cigarette. He saw old ladies with shopping carts crammed with junk. Everywhere he looked were sights and smells and sounds of life gone to pieces, but it was probably the sounds that were the worst. Swear words and grunts and moans and the lips of toothless mouths smacking together after a swig on a bottle. Tires screeching, horns honking. Angry shouts, crazy laughter. Bells saying “come here” alarms saying “stay away.” The sound of someone’s head banging against a wire fence over and over. It was the music of hell and it went into his ears and seeped into his brain and ate away at his reason. He sat on a bench by a little park until a crazy man chased him off. Then he lost it and ran. He ran until he was sick and he threw up in a gutter. He retched until there was nothing left. No one even noticed. He was just another part of the freak show.

The sensory overload was more than he could process. He wandered in a daze. Around noon he walked up a hill for no apparent reason other than it was a place to go. He saw a little park overlooking the harbor, and since no one was there he went through the wrought iron gate and sat down on a bench to think for a while. The view was splendid and the peace was healing. He heard the gate open and looked up. It was Philo. He came over and sat down.

“You look kind of rough, Joe. What’s up?”

Joe didn’t know what to say. How can you explain being overwhelmed by evil? Finally he just said, “All the waste. The evil,” and pointed back down the hill. Philo understood.

“What you saw, Joe is almost as bad as it gets. Your experience had not prepared you for what you saw today. Here is something else: the lives of those people are wasted. They are casualties, or more like, prisoners of war. We can talk about this another time, but there is a great war going on. Remember when we talked about the two realities?”

“Yeah.”

“The war I’m talking about is a spiritual war, Joe. God has enemies, one in particular, who would like nothing better than to destroy what God has made. Read the first chapter of the Bible. God looks at everything he creates and sees that it is good. The Enemy wants to pervert and destroy all that God made good, and mankind more than anything else. Jesus said the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy.”

“Why is that?” Joe asked.

“Because of all that God created, man alone is like him. We’re special. I’m sorry, Joe, but I have to run. This park is a great little place. I come here a lot for rest. Don’t be quick to leave. There is a lot to learn here.” With that he got up and left.

Joe sat alone on the bench. The park had statuary placed at various locations and he realized it was some kind of religious place. He dozed in the sun for a few minutes and then got up to look at the statues. The first one was St. Francis of Assisi. He had seen the movie “Brother Sun, Sister Moon” but that was all he knew about him. He saw statues of Thomas Aquinas, Augustine and Anselm. All these men were just names to him. He knew nothing more about them. He read the little plaques on each statue. They were an impressive bunch. Then there was a statue of someone named Origen who lived from 185-253. Joe had never heard of him before, but the two quotes on his plaque caught his attention. The first was from some history book. It read:

It is impossible to deny a respectful sympathy, veneration and gratitude to this extraordinary man, who, with all his brilliant talents and a best of enthusiastic friends and admirers, was driven from his country, stripped of his sacred office, excommunicated from a part of the church, then thrown into a dungeon, loaded with chains, racked by torture, doomed to drag his aged frame and dislocated limbs in pain and poverty, and long after his death to have his memory branded, his name anathematized, and his salvation denied; but who nevertheless did more than all his enemies combined to advance the cause of sacred learning, to refute and convert heathens and heretics, and to make the church respected in the eyes of the world.

Joe was impressed by the man’s commitment to his cause, and it gave him strength to continue even after all he had seen this morning. The second quote was from Origen himself, and it brought Joe up short. It read: “The humanity of Christ is the highest temple and the most beautiful image of God, and true Christians are living statues of the Holy Spirit, with which no Jupiter of Phidias can compare.” Here was a direct reference to Christ. Was this the same person as Jesus? He had heard the name “Jesus Christ” many times in his life, of course, but he did not know all what that meant other than sometimes in his former life he had used it as a swear word. He wanted to ask someone about this. But something else in this quote caught his attention. It was the reference to the image of God, and that humans were to be statues of the Holy Spirit. Now he knew less about the Holy Spirit than he did about Christ, but he couldn’t help but think of the contrast between a person who was a living statue to God’s glory, and what he’d just witnessed down the hill.

The grass needed to be trimmed around the statue and Joe almost missed that there was something else written on it. He pulled the grass aside and saw a hand painted arrow pointing to the right. He looked on the side of the statue and someone had written a number 4 and a Bible reference, it read: “Ps 8:3-5 ‘When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor.’” Under this was another arrow pointing toward a large rock. Joe walked over and found behind the rock a little path leading down the hill.

The path ended at a sidewalk in a neighborhood. There on the sidewalk was another arrow pointing to the right with a number 4 on the arrow. Before he moved on he got out his map, found the street on the map, and compared this with the direction of the arrow. They appeared to be consistent. He followed the street for 3 blocks until he came to an elevated train station. Here was a red circle with a 4 in its center. Joe looked at the train map and saw that the red line would take him within a couple of blocks of his destination. He bought a pass at a machine and waited for his train. When he got on he found a seat and kept to himself. The train passed through an old neighborhood, then the Asian district and then the business district. Here the buildings were tall and imposing. Some of them were dozens of floors high. Outside were secretaries and businessmen heading back to their offices and cubicles after lunch. They looked focused. A few blocks later the train came to Joe’s stop.

Joe got off and sat down on one of the benches to get his bearings. He saw an arrow pointing down a hill. He walked three blocks toward the water. At the corner he saw another arrow that pointed toward his right. Five minutes later he was standing at a door not sure what to do. He had expected to find a house or a church or rescue mission. What he found was a door where there shouldn’t be a door. It was just a space between two buildings, not even wide enough to be an alley. The address was right. Over the door in wrought iron was a sign that read, “The Refuge.” On the door itself was small painted sign that read: “Please ring the bell.” Joe pushed a button at the side of the door. There was a long silence and Joe was about to leave and try to call the number on the card, when he heard someone unlock the door from the other side. He was not prepared for what met him.

When the door opened Joe was greeted by the largest human being he had ever seen. He was close to seven feet tall, but he was built more like a football player than a basketball player. He was wearing blue jeans and a black Henley. He also wore black work boots and sunglasses. His hair was in a crew cut. He looked like he lifted weights, a lot of weights. But what struck Joe, perhaps more than all of that was his face. The skin on his face was horribly scarred. His ears were deformed and twisted into little nubs. Joe didn’t want to think about what was behind the glasses. He said, “You here to see the reverend?” His deep voice was both imposing and kind at the same time.

“Yes,” Joe replied perhaps a little too softly, “Rocky sent me.”

“That’s cool. Rock’s a good man. Come on in.”

They walked back between the two buildings which opened up into a courtyard. It was surrounded by the buildings on three sides and a high cinderblock wall on the fourth. The courtyard was beautifully landscaped with flowers, plants, trees and a little waterfall in the corner. The ground was completely covered with grass except for the path through the middle. There were several benches placed around, and a couple of small round tables by the benches. Right in the middle was a round fire pit with a hood and chimney. Overhead the courtyard was covered with a magnificent awning. It appeared to be a series of arches made from white painted wood. The arches were filled in with stained glass pictures that together looked like the nighttime sky with moon and stars. The cinderblock wall was painted with a mural that was a series of four windows looking out over the ocean. They turned left and went up a wooden stairway to a landing. When they got to the top, the other man turned to Joe and stuck out his huge hand. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Polycarp. I know that’s kind of an odd name,” he said smiling, “so most people call me Pol. I suppose Polly would have worked but it just didn’t seem right.”

“No,” Joe thought, “I don’t suppose it did,” but what he said was “Pleased to meet you Pol, my name is Joe.” When they shook hands, Joe noticed his hands were scarred also. They went up some steps and through the door without knocking, and came into a sort of sitting, or waiting room. There were a couple of couches, a coffee table, and a couple of chairs. There was a closed door just across from where they entered, and a hallway to Joe’s left going back into some other part of the building. Pol told Joe to wait here, and he went through the door closing it behind him. Joe noticed that he had to duck. A couple of minutes later a man came out who looked to be in his sixties. He was short and thin. Joe couldn’t read his expression.

“Greetings Joe, my name Sam Goldberg. Welcome to The Refuge.”

“Thank you, Sam, but how did you know my name?”

“Rocky called this morning. Said you would be stopping by. Say, Joe we’re about to have lunch, would you like to eat with us?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“We specialize in trouble, Joe. Come on in.”

They went through the door and up some more steps into an apartment. They were in the living room. They walked down a rather long hallway to a kitchen in the back. A table with benches on either side was set into an alcove with windows that looked out over the street below. At the counter making sandwiches was a young woman about Joe’s age. Pol was sitting on a heavy wooden stool at the table.

“You’ve already met, Pol,” Sam began, “that’s Felicitas at the counter. Have a seat. We’ll be eating soon.”

The young woman brought over a plate of pastrami sandwiches on dark rye bread with mustard and onions. She’d cut up a plate of vegetables. There were also corn chips, a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of ice tea.

Sam sat across from Joe, and Felicitas sat next to him. Pol sat at the open end of the table on his stool. The sandwiches were excellent. He ate two. For a few minutes they ate in silence, which was a little uncomfortable for Joe, then Sam spoke: “so, Joe, what brings you to The Refuge?”

“The long answer is I met a woman named Abigail. She directed me to Sharon’s café and Sharon told me about her uncle Rocky. Rocky encouraged me to find you. But the short answer is that I am seeking the Seven Truths.” They all nodded in affirmation. Joe continued, “Rocky let me stay in his boat last night and gave me your card. He told me that you might be able to help me on The Way, or at least pray for my journey. I left this morning thinking that I would walk through town to here, and seek your advice.”

Felicitas interrupted, “You walked from the docks?”

“Well, I walked part way, but I saw things…It wasn’t the immorality so much, but the wasted lives. Why do you ask? Have you been there?”

“Yeah,” was all she said. Joe didn’t know how to respond to that, so he let it drop. Pol said something to Sam and the focus turned away from him for a time. Joe looked at this young woman across from him. She had neatly combed black hair tied at the neck with one of those big stretchy things. She wore a loosely fitting dark green sweater, tan khaki pants, and white tennis shoes. “Fairly conservative for a city girl,” Joe thought. She wore no makeup or jewelry except for a simple crucifix necklace. She looked up, saw Joe looking at her and immediately looked back down at her plate.

“So, Joe, how can we help you?” Sam asked.

“Can you tell me about the Fourth Truth?”

“Yes,” Sam answered, “but first let me give you a little of my background. I come from a wealthy Jewish family. They own a significant amount of property in this city. They are not particularly bad people. They honor Shabbat and the Holy Days like Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, they eat Kosher and all that, but they didn’t instill in me a spiritual heritage that brought any kind of satisfaction. When I went to college I met a young man who introduced me to The Way. I saw after a time that my people had laid the foundation for The Way, but for a number of reasons had not followed it to its conclusion. In other words, they knew and taught some of the Seven Truths, but not all. So, when I was 21, I set out to find the whole truth of God, and that’s how I became a follower of The Way. My family was furious, but what could they do? They were going to disown me, but were afraid of a lawsuit as is typical in many wealthy families, and agreed to a settlement. I told them all I wanted was the deed to these two buildings, and maybe a little help with the property taxes. That is how The Refuge got started. Like you, Joe, I was overwhelmed by the human destruction this city produces. I wanted to rescue as many as possible, and I knew the Seven Truths were the only answer. So for the last 40 years I have been working in the city as a light in the darkness.”

“Did you paint the arrows I followed?” Joe asked.

“Not me personally, but someone from The Refuge did. I’m guessing you found the park on the hill. Those statues are ours, even though the land belongs to someone else.”

“How do you go about rescuing people?”

“That’s an excellent question, Joe,” Sam said, “Maybe Pol or Felicitas could answer it better.”

“Let me start,” Felicitas began. “I was a runaway. Just a kid. I came here to the city, and I almost starved to death. Then a man, who seemed so nice at the time, offered me a job. I won’t go into all the details, but I ended up working for him as a prostitute. It wasn’t long before I was using cocaine regularly. One night I was all strung out, and on top of that my last John had slapped me around pretty bad. I was finished with everything and I saw no options. I walked up to an overpass on the freeway so I could throw myself in front of the biggest truck that came by. As I was standing there, who should show up but Sam and Pol. Pol kind of gets your attention. Sam talked to me about love and forgiveness and starting over. I didn’t respond right away, but I didn’t jump either. Over the next several days Sam, Pol and some of the others here, just showed me God’s love. Finally I broke down and gave in. I started on The Way and I felt washed clean for the first time in many years. When I told my pimp I was quitting he threatened to kill me, but Pol had a talk with him, and that took care of that. I walked away, and I’ve never looked back. That was a year ago, and I’ve been clean, sober and pure ever since.”

“Wow” was all Joe could think to say. Then, “Pol, what about you?”

“My story is a bit more complicated,” Pol said. “Maybe Sam could tell it.”

“I found Pol in a dumpster,” Sam explained, “when he was a baby. Near as I can piece together from asking around is that Pol’s mother was a stripper at a local bar. She got pregnant from some guy she met, but Pol was so large, she bled to death giving birth in a room above the bar. Somebody else, probably the bartender, thought the baby was dead also and threw him into the dumpster. I was making some nightly rounds when I heard a baby’s cry coming from the alley. That’s when I found Pol. We put him in the hospital, and eventually got permission to raise him here. We named him Jeremiah after the prophet. Then when he was fourteen he found out about his mom. He felt responsible, like he had killed his mother. We could not console him. Late one night he went out to the courtyard, soaked himself in gas and lit himself on fire. He would have died, but God had other plans. Martha, who used to live here, was just coming in. She saw him and immediately threw her coat over him and was able to put out the flames. She lost her coat and suffered a few minor burns herself, but saved his life. Even so, Pol was not out of danger. First there were his injuries. They were extensive. That took months & months of intensive care. We prayed a lot during that time because we all felt that God had special plans for Pol. Then, after his body healed, we had to find a way to heal his heart. He now suffered the double guilt of his mother’s death and his own suicide attempt.”

“I was a mess, Joe, but Sam stood by me the whole way,” Pol interrupted. “If not for him, I would have killed myself for sure the first chance I got. Martha nursed my physical wounds and Sam brought me back from the edge.”

“And that’s probably the best way to describe The Refuge. We bring people back from the edge, people that want to that is. We have private rooms here for recovering drug addicts; we have rooms for pregnant women who don’t want an abortion. Basically we are a safe place, a refuge, for people who feel they have no options. We try to show that we can fix their lives, but God is the only real long-term solution to what ails them. I have doctors and counselors and lawyers and business people who not only donate significant amounts of time and money, but who do so to serve God.”

“That’s amazing,” Joe said, “how do you pay for it all?”

“Well, as I said, the buildings and taxes are paid for. Then we get sizable donations from people like Rocky. That’s right,” Sam said, seeing Joe’s reaction, “he’s quite wealthy. That boat you slept in brings him a tidy income. Plus one of our investment people helped him with his money. Rocky’s doing okay. He lived here for a while, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Joe said, “but it fits now that you mention it.”

“Joe,” Sam said, “I have to go out for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll be back this evening and we can talk. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. Any help you can offer while you’re here would be received with gratitude.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“See you tonight, Joe,” Sam said. “Pol, can you and Felicitas handle the dishes? I’ve got to run.”

“Deal,” Pol said, “but you owe me a game of Cribbage.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said as he bolted out the back door.

They all cleaned up the kitchen, though there wasn’t much to do. The second half of that day was as wonderful as the first half had been horrible. Joe was a fair Cribbage player, so he and Pol played in the courtyard while Felicitas looked on. She made tea and brought it down at one point, but other than that barely moved or said a word. Joe and Pol talked about almost everything. They talked about faith, God, Joe’s journey, the Seven Truths and many other related things. But they also talked about music, sports, art and literature. Pol was amazingly well read and articulate. Joe found that he liked Pol a lot. After two hours of talk and cards, Pol said “Joe, I’m going to be out late tonight. I gotta take a nap. I’ll catch up with you later.” He went upstairs. Felicitas never moved. When the door closed behind Pol, she looked at Joe and said, “I didn’t think you boys were ever going to quit talking.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, “I didn’t know you wanted to talk.”

“I can talk to Pol anytime; I really wanted to talk to you.”

Joe was embarrassed by this. He didn’t really know how to process it.

“Joe, I can see,” she said “that you are uncomfortable. You don’t need to be. I’m not a prostitute.”

“Oh! I know that,” Joe said, “it’s just I haven’t been around women my age for a while. Even before I started seeking the Seven Truths, I was not much of a ladies’ man.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll accept that. But here’s the thing. I have never had a normal conversation with a man. Ever.”

“What about Pol and Sam?”

“Well, sure I have had plenty of normal conversations with them, but they are like family. No, actually, they are my family. You don’t fit that category. Not yet anyway. Before I was hooking…well, things weren’t so good then either. Then for many years, every conversation I had with a man was almost always a prelude to sex for money. This may sound kind of selfish, but I want to talk to a man who is not coming off drugs, or homelessness, or worse. You seem, well, fairly normal. I want to try and cultivate healthy relationships that don’t involve sex.”

Joe could tell she was the real thing. She had been down the dark side and she never wanted to go there again. The more they talked, the more respect Joe had for her faith.

“You probably guessed that Polycarp and Felicitas are not our real names?” she said at one point.

“Well, they are kind of different,” Joe admitted.

“They are both famous martyrs. Polycarp was burned at the stake for his faith. After the suicide attempt, Jeremiah chose the name Polycarp. You can probably see why. It’s really only a nickname, but everyone calls him that now. Felicitas was an early martyr also. She and another young woman named Perpetua both died in the arena. Killed by wild beasts. My real name is Candace, but when Sam had me read their story one day, it really touched me. I mean their willingness to give up everything for God. Everything! So, I too took on a nickname. It’s a reminder to be pure and faithful to my vows to God. The word ‘felicity’ means ‘great happiness,’ or ‘causing happiness’. For years I gave men pleasure, but never happiness. Not for me either. Now I just want to be a positive influence in people’s lives, and lead them to The Way.”

They were still talking when Sam came home. It was about five o’clock. Joe had talked the whole afternoon.

Sam looked tired. “Good evening everybody. I hope you had a fruitful day. I think we might be getting a new roommate in the next day or so. Robert is real close.”

“That’s good news, Sam,” Felicitas said. “We’ve been praying for him for a long time now.”

“Yes, we have, and yes, it’s great news. Say, Joe, we don’t eat dinner until 6:30 or so. Why don’t you and I go up to my study and we can talk until then.”

“That would be great.”

They went up from the courtyard, and into the apartment. About halfway down the long hall was a door on the right that led to another stairway. At the top of the stairs was Sam’s study. There was a desk, countless books and magazines, a couch and two chairs. The window looked out over the alley, and beyond to the many old buildings in this part of the city. Sam and Joe sat in the chairs.

“So, Joe, let’s talk.” He said as he looked at Joe. In the whole conversation Sam never looked at the clock, he never looked bored, and he never looked preoccupied. He gave Joe a hundred percent of his attention. He must have had a thousand responsibilities at that very moment, but for all appearances Joe was his number one priority, the only thing on his mind.

Joe told Sam his story. Sam knew Rocky and Sharon. He had heard of Abigail and her work. In fact, he was familiar with every little turn of Joe’s journey. He never critiqued or editorialized. Only occasionally would he ask for clarification or explanation. Then Joe came to when he found The Refuge.

Sam was silent for maybe a minute. Then he said, “Joe, I think there are two things I can help you with. One is easy, and the other is hard. First the easy one. The Fourth Truth is that man is created in the image of God. Think of the implications of that from what you know of God: he is all-powerful & all knowing. God is love, as you know. And yet he condescended to make us something like himself. That’s amazing. The image of God is something inside, and the more you follow The Way, the more God’s image is restored in you. We humans tend to look only on the outward image, but God’s greatest work is done in the heart. Polycarp is a good example of that. On the outside he is scary. Even without the burns, it would be hard to be in his presence and not be intimidated. But on the inside, God has done a great work in that man. I have incredible respect for him. Polycarp is my closest friend. Yes, I saved his life, but he has saved mine more than once. And you are missing something if you have not heard him preach. God speaks through him in mighty ways. But, on the other hand, what you saw on the street this morning is almost the complete destruction of God’s image in a human. You saw humanity completely stripped of the dignity God gave us. God made us above the animals, yet when we reject him, we become like animals, without morality, without intelligence, and without free will. We become base and profane.”

“You know,” Joe confessed, “that is the way I was before God got a hold of me. I mean, I wasn’t as bad as the people I saw this morning, but I was definitely base and profane. My life had no meaning, or satisfaction, and I was blind. All my success, all my effort led me to a place where I was lost and confused.”

“That brings us to the hard part, Joe.”

“What is that?” Joe asked.

“The Fifth Truth.”
Questions:

1. What do you suppose happened to all the people Joe saw before he got to the refuge?

2. What would be the difference between the street people and the business people? What would be the same?

3. What is the Refuge, and what does it represent in the story?

4. What is the Fourth Truth?

5. How do Polycarp and Felicitas illustrate the Fourth Truth?

6. What was Sam’s assessment of his Jewish heritage?

7. How did his heritage relate to the Seven Truths?

8. According to Sam what happens to those who follow the way?

9. What happens to those who reject God?