Parishioners at St. Joseph Catholic Church will never forget the woman who interrupted the choir one Sunday and shouted, "Praise God."
A man dressed in a robe with long brown hair, soft eyes and a bushy beard gently wrapped one arm around the woman and guided her down the aisle. She cast a final look at the man and ran into the street shouting, "I've seen Jesus, I've seen Jesus!"
The man in the robe was not Jesus Christ. He is, however, a man of God.
The Rev. Timothy Sherwood, 45, is the residing pastor at St. Joseph, located at 2101 22 Ave. S. in St. Petersburg. His uncanny resemblance to the iconic image of Jesus has caused some to do a double take.
"I wasn't sure whether or not to shake his hand or to genuflect," said Betty Pokorny, the church's secretary, recalling her first meeting with Sherwood.
Sherwood's resemblance to Jesus tends to confuse children, who seem overpowered in his presence. After a recent Sunday service, Maya Baptiste, 7, said she had a question for Sherwood, but was too shy to ask him directly.
"Are you Jesus?" she wanted to know.
That's a question he gets a lot.
"It is embarrassing, but at the same time, maybe in looking more like [Jesus], maybe it helps in the experience of the prayer," he said in an interview in January. "It's certainly not that I am Christ, but we're people that are tangible, right? We like to see and touch and taste. Maybe it helps."
Once, during a previous tenure at the Holy Family Catholic Church in Northeast St. Petersburg, Sherwood decided to try a new look. So he shaved the beard. The result: a petition by the parish demanding that he grow it back. In retrospect, Sherwood said he understands the spiritual impact his appearance had on the church members and their faith, and he hasn't thought of shaving the beard since.
With all the comparisons, Sherwood, who is pursuing a doctoral degree in leadership studies from Gonzaga University, is quick to make one thing clear. The real Jesus, in all probability, looked nothing like him.
The image of the blue-eyed, olive-skinned, long-haired Jesus originated in Greece and "has become iconic in America and Northern Europe," said Keith White, a professor of the Old and New Testaments at University of South Florida St. Petersburg,
Portraits of Jesus vary according to geography.
"The skin lightens up depending on where it is," White said. "In Africa his skin darker; in Europe the skin is pale white."
The December 2002 issue of Popular Mechanics addressed the matter in an article, titled "The Real Face of Jesus." British scientists teamed with Israeli archaeologists to re-establish an image of Jesus that they hoped would be the most historically accurate portrayal to date.
"From analysis of skeletal remains, archaeologists have firmly established that the average build of a Semite male at the time of Jesus was 5 ft. 1 in., with an average weight of 110 pounds," the magazine reported. "Since Jesus worked outdoors as a carpenter until he was about 30 years old, it is reasonable to assume he was more muscular and physically fit than westernized portraits suggest."
Norah Folkers, a longtime member of St. Joseph's, said it's not simply the appearance of the soft-spoken Sherwood that conjures up the likeness of Jesus; it's his soul.
"It's how he treats people," Folkers said. "He sees the absolute best in people. We're truly blessed to have him."
Sherwood grew up in Union, Mo., a small town back then; his mother practiced social work and his stepfather worked in steel mills. Sherwood often accompanied his stepfather to a Catholic church, but he didn't become Catholic he was 18.
After high school, life led him down several paths. He entered the Navy, then became a police officer and also worked in a hospital. Later, he painted houses on his own. As he drifted from place to place, profession to profession, it was clear something was missing.
"In the midst of all these things, I felt that there was something more for me, and these things weren't fulfilling that satisfaction in my life," Sherwood said.
When he was 22, he went to a seminary in St. Louis. Four churches, one beard and 19 years later, his journey brought him to St. Joseph.
On a recent Sunday morning, the parking lot of the church was crammed with cars wedged every which way. Inside, every seat was filled, every eye fixed on Sherwood, who stood on white tile before a figure of Jesus hanging from the cross.
His voice was tender, his message clear. As he preached, the congregation of blacks and whites listened carefully while his words resonated throughout the cavernous hall.
"If I can't be a saint," Sherwood once told a bishop, "I might as well look like one."
Josh Wamsley is a reporter for the Neighborhood News Bureau, a program of the Department of Journalism at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg. He can be reached at 727-327-2129.
This article appears in Apr 18-24, 2007.