by Keith Bassham
A long with a few million others, I grieved this past month at the passing of Andy Griffith. Not that I idolized him or anything like that. Nor did I consider him a great actor. I think what I was mourning was the knowledge that somehow and in some way Andy Taylor died. That, of course, is not possible since Sheriff Taylor is a fictional person, the same way that Mayberry is a fictional town.
Some cynics would call what I am going through as more along the lines of wistful nostalgia, or in the words of an AP writer, a longing for “the notion of the small town as a manageable, nonthreatening, friendly, finite community … The black-and-white world that Andy Griffith shaped.”
Well, perhaps. I have recently gone back to wet shaving with an old-fashioned double-edge razor, but there is more to my grief than that. Sheriff Taylor was genuinely decent, and I think Christian, and though he does not address Deity much on screen, when he went to church, he called it “going to preachin’.” No half-faith, nominal member of some liturgical church would ever refer to attending worship in those terms.
And the lessons he taught, even when he was caught in a foible or two, were straight out of biblical literature and never go out of style.
One of my favorite Andy Griffith episodes had the townsfolk holding Deputy Barney Fife in ridicule. Frankly, Barney deserved most of what he got, but in this case the hurrah-ing he was getting was over the top. In the meantime, Andy and his girl Helen went abandoned-mine exploring during a picnic. The mine collapsed on the entrance, and Barney, upon discovering the situation, began organizing a rescue. Mayberry citizens were a little skeptical at first, and later after they could not turn up the bodies of Andy and Helen, they began to doubt Barney’s story completely.
In the meantime, Andy had found a back way out of the mine, and he and Helen went back to her place to clean up. Then they discovered what was happening. Barney had the whole town involved in an unnecessary “rescue.” Andy reasoned that if he and Helen revealed themselves to the crowd unhurt and unharmed, Barney would never recover. And so, taking “greater love” to heart, he and Helen go back into the mine the back way, and lie down just in time to see Barney break through the rubble and effect the “rescue.” Outside the mine, he told all the citizens they were fortunate to have a man like Barney in their midst. Andy thought it nothing to appear weak and dependent in order to lift up his friend in the eyes of the people they served together. He had personal capital to spare, and he lent that capital freely. It is a great leadership lesson.
Thank you, Andy, both of you. To Mr. Griffith for giving us Sheriff Taylor, and to Sheriff Taylor for giving us lessons for living.