Religion: Cosmic Lubritorium

In due time, the word came to Father Divine, self-proclaimed God-in-the-flesh: Philadelphia was going to have a visitation by Detroit’s Prophet Jones, Dominion Ruler of the Church of the Universal Triumph, who has established a lien on divinity himself. Forth from Father Divine’s headquarters in Philadelphia went a cordial invitation: Would the Prophet attend the consecration of the Father’s new 73-acre heaven in swank suburban Montgomery County?

Prompt and courtly was the Prophet Jones’s reply: “Your Godliness … I … know the chassis of your mind has been carried up into a divine cosmic lubritorium. I herewith graciously, humbly and sincerely, yet royally, accept your invitation to attend.”

A Peach & a Pear. One morning last week, the North Philadelphia station looked like five minutes to Judgment Day as some 1,500 happy and expectant followers of the two leaders waited for the Pennsylvania Railroad’s Red Arrow bearing the Prophet. When it arrived, things nearly got out of hand.

First came Prophet Jones’s 26 pieces of luggage, containing some of his 400 suits and his $12,900 white mink coat (TIME, March 2). Then, with an entourage including two valets, two secretaries, a hairdresser, two bodyguards and a cook, came Prophet James F. Jones himself. When about 15 yards separated him from Father Divine and his blonde wife, Mother Divine (in a mink jacket and orchid corsage), the ecstatic faithful piled in around them, crying, “Peace, peace—it’s wonderful, wonderful!” A long-armed policeman was helpless to restore order. Then Father Divine raised his arm. “Peace, kindly move back.” he said, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

“I am happy to meet you, Your Holiness,” said the Father.

“God bless you, Your Godliness. It’s a pleasure and an honor,” said the Prophet.

“Peace, it’s wonderful.”

“God bless you.”

In a 16-car motorcade of chauffeur-driven Cadillacs and Chryslers, the party swirled into West Philadelphia, where, at one of Father Divine’s centers, the Divine Tracy Hotel, he had decreed a light breakfast. Prophet Jones stared at the array of fruits and fruit juices, eggs cooked in every style, ham, sausages, bacon and pastries. He eats only one meal a day, and that after 9:30 p.m., he explained, and nibbled sparingly on a peach and a pear.

A Significance. Father Divine had graciously prepared a suite at the Divine Tracy for his guest, complete-with a well-stocked kitchen, but the Prophet, restive perhaps in the throes of so much hospitality and second billing, preferred to take up the reservation he had already made at the Bellevue-Stratford.

Later, at a solo press conference, he was more expansive. Waving his left hand, which flashed with a diamond bracelet containing 812 diamonds, he announced that before the end of the 20th century, “God is going to stop death.” Across the room his Philadelphia sponsor, Politico Hobson R. Reynolds, who owns a cemetery and has an interest in a family undertaking business, sat fascinated. “Yes,” the Prophet went on, “I aim to put undertakers, gravediggers and casket factories out of business.”

A reporter asked if his meeting with Father Divine held any significance in regard to future collaboration between them. Prophet Jones pondered. “There is a significance,” he replied at last. “But I don’t know whether God will let me disclose it.”