I once promised myself I wasn’t going to write about Philly Jesus. That all changed when I happened upon a YouTube video of Philly Jesus “baptizing” a man in LOVE Park’s fountain. I began to wonder how the new convert could be so gullible as to believe that a baptism by a fake Jesus was more special than a baptism in a church. Then I understood the reason: Everything in this society is about appearances.

Philly Jesus, whose given name is Michael Grant, was a hot media commodity at the time of the YouTube filming. Those of us who live on the surface of things want easy answers and easy images, and Philly Jesus is the perfect man for that. It’s easy to imagine how it might have all started for Grant. A close friend may have told him:

“You know, with your face and eyes and the way your beard hangs,you are a Jesus clone. You should take advantage of that. Ditch the Flyers shirt and the Phillies cap and put on a robe. Then walk around the city and see what happens.”

It’s a brilliant move and definitely the kind of maneuver that public relations people love. I mean, who could ask for a better story than Grant’s? As an admitted ex-heroin addict, what hasn’t Grant seen on the mean streets of the city? Rejection, starvation, dirty needles, homelessness, dirty clothes and days without a shower. Philly Jesus has been to hell and back, but now he’s resurrected; his beard is fluffed up and his piercing eyes are aflame with a childlike understanding of the Gospel. And yes, no doubt about it, he’s hit on a new career path. Maybe he’ll even get a movie role down the line.

The city seemed to open up for Grant on the day he first put on his Philly Jesus robes. The local paparazzi went crazy: they were hungry for something new. One can only photograph ladies in strapless evening gowns at city galas city parties for so long. Overnight, Grant went from ex-addict to media icon. Soon people were coming to Philly Jesus for spiritual counseling. In a series of online photographs by CBS3, one can see Philly Jesus praying with the homeless, counseling strangers, conversing with addicts, praying in the Parkway cathedral and walking through North Philly carrying a huge wooden cross. In other photos he’s skateboarding or playing hockey because, you know, Philly Jesus is cool.

In his “counseling the weak” photos, he looks very sage-like with his arm around a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. What words of wisdom was Philly Jesus sharing? In one photo it even seems as though he’s ceased being an actor and is actually beginning to take himself seriously.

 

“I have to grow. I have to take it to the next level,” Grant told one interviewer.

Is this what Jim Jones contemplated prior to the Jonestown massacre? After all, he started out as a sincere Gospel-preaching, help-the-poor pastor with, apparently, pure intentions. Power then twisted his ego, and he began to think of himself as receiving special messages from the Spirit, but which spirit?

Appearances mean everything in the world we live in; if you want to make your mark in life but have no particular talent — say you can’t draw, cure diseases, paint, design buildings or create remarkable poetry — you can always create a gimmick or find a hook to catapult yourself into the world of doers. The psychotic among us kill larges numbers of people and wind up in People Magazine. A performance “artist” might strip in Times Square while eating hard boiled eggs and then recieve press for days. You get the idea.

If Philly Jesus has any talent at all, it might have to do with the power of believing in himself. But let’s say, for one Philly moment, that he lost that self confidence and displayed visible traces of embarrassment while walking around in robes. Let’s suppose that he suddenly had doubts about the viability of continuing to dress in Jesus garb. That self-doubt would be noticed and felt by observers, and his career would slowly unwind.

Philly Jesus reminds me of a talk I heard some months ago from the famous New York Magazine art critic, Jerry Saltz. Saltz was a guest at the Barnes Foundation and spoke about being a college dropout who, despite never having had a formal education in art, frequently read books on art and art criticism. He was a cross country truck driver, when one day he had an epiphany and decided that he was going to call himself an art critic –– just like that! In an instant, he changed his identity, and over time his belief in this identity led to an esteemed position at New York Magazine.

Philly Jesus has been arrested about a dozen times, mostly for loitering and trumped up charges like “theft of services.” After my various trips to Europe, I don’t believe that anybody should be arrested for loitering. In Europe, people loiter. They sit on benches, hang in cafes for hours, and sit or stand by rivers. In the United States, such behavior might attract the attention of a police officer. Public spaces in the U.S., with the exception of some parks, have become points of possible suspicious behavior –– hence the slow disappearance of the public bench.

The cop who arrested Philly Jesus because after accepting a tip at LOVE Park is an example of this new world. What did Philly Jesus do when he was arrested? Did he lash out? Or did he go willingly in handcuffs to his trial before Pontius Pilot? Apparently, he did the latter.

If Grant thought it would be all fun to be Philly Jesus, he was in for a rude awakening. When you stroke the mane of the paparazzi, you have to do certain things right to keep them engaged. You can ruffle feathers but they have to be the right kind of feathers. And you have to be the kind of vanilla Jesus that can be seen in boardwalk gift shops. The vanilla Jesus does not upset the tables of the money changers in the temple.

Earlier this year, Philly Jesus lent his support to a gayborhood equality event. Near the stage was MC Henri David and a drag queen or two. (Didn’t the real Jesus hang out with the Samaritan woman and prostitutes?) Philly Jesus said he believed that we are all God’s children and deserve love. After that, he was more popular than Center City’s Big Gay Ice Cream store. His popularity got him thinking that maybe he really is a Jesus of sorts, maybe he’s even the Second Coming. Maybe even God has chosen him as a prophet.

But the Supreme Court’s ruling to legalize same-sex marriage may have inspired born-again Christians to contact Philly Jesus for spiritual rehabilitation. They could have told Philly Jesus that God’s love is, indeed, conditional. Perhaps the prospect of alienating born-again Christians was not something Philly Jesus wanted to do. If he sided with gays and their allies, what would happen to his financial contributions and to the prospect of expanding Philly Jesus into an American, nationwide Jesus?

Perhaps they told him to not to be so loving, that they wanted him to put down the peace and pick up the sword. So, Philly Jesus complied. He took to social media to announce to his born-again Christians that he was sorry for his positive comments on same sex marriage.

“I wanna publicly apologize to all of you,” he said, “and ask for your forgiveness. I repent in Jesus’ name.” On his Facebook page, he spewed a hard dose of venom. “Gay Pride is why Sodom got fried.”

The instantaneous change baffled many of his fans. The historical Jesus never had to correct himself; he never had to say that he was wrong when he said something. This Philly Jesus was obviously just an opportunist. In one fell, homophobic swoop, Philly Jesus ended his love affair with the media. With his love-all message now in the trash bin, the paparazzi made themselves scarce.

Today, Philly Jesus has become that other Jesus, the Jesus of Pat Robertson and Billy Graham Jr. Some critics have even called for his crucifixion –– in a non violent way, of course.

But what did people expect? After all, there have always been two Jesuses in Christianity. As a former drug addict, Philly Jesus has had to learn how to be an opportunist and to go whichever way the wind blows.

So, don’t cry your eyes out paparazzi. Philly Jesus is proof, as if we needed any, that commercial media will suck the udders of any fly-by-night oddity deemed hot by inept culture vultures.