“But in the Bible, Jesus walked out of the tomb and appeared to the disciples after his death, didn’t he?” All those years of Catechism and Catholic school had drilled this stuff into her head.
“Sure. Jesus disappeared from the tomb,” he readily agreed. Then a knowing grin swept across Giovanni Bersei’s face. “Though none of the Gospels say how. In the gospel accounts that follow the empty tomb, Jesus also had the ability to walk through walls and materialize from out of nowhere. And if you recall from the Bible, many whom he appeared to hadn’t even recognized him. Those aren’t attributes associated with a reanimated physical body.”
“Then why does the Church emphasize his physical death and physical resurrection?”
He smiled. “My guess goes something like this. Egypt, particularly Alexandria, was a very influential cultural center in the Roman Empire. There, cults worshipped Osiris, the god of the underworld who was horribly murdered by a rival god named Seth—cut to pieces in fact. Osiris’s wife, the female goddess of life named Isis, collected his body parts and returned them to the temple and performed rituals so that three days later, the god resurrected.”
“Sounds a lot like Easter,” she concurred. “Are you suggesting the Gospels were altered?”
An older couple was dawdling close by, intrigued by the two people in white lab coats. Bersei drew closer to Charlotte. “Largely untouched, but perhaps reinterpreted in key areas,” he clarified. “I suppose some of this could all be coincidence,” he said with a shrug. “Anyway, the point to be made here is that in the fourth century, Christianity was being practiced inconsistently throughout the empire. Hundreds of scriptures were circulating out there, some legitimate, many wildly embellished.”
“Which meant scrapping all the inconsistent scriptures,” she deduced.
“Right. You can’t blame the guy,” Bersei said in his defense. “Constantine was trying to unite the empire. The Church’s infighting only undermined that vision.”
“Makes sense,” Charlotte admitted. It seemed like Giovanni actually admired Constantine, she thought.
“Anyway, that’s where it all began. The Church became more intertwined with the empire, one symbiotically serving the other. Crucifixions had disappeared from the roadways, but one enormous crucifix was erected above the altar and Rome’s fearmongering evolved from ruling by the sword, to ruling by fear of damnation for sinners. All thanks largely in part to one brilliant Roman emperor who reshaped the face of Western civilization.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I thought you said you’re a good Catholic boy?”
“I am,” he assured her.
“Even though you know all this stuff?”
“Because I know all this stuff. You have to understand that if what we’re looking at downstairs is the physical body of Christ, it doesn’t contradict the original Gospels. But it certainly creates a big problem for a Church that’s taken some liberties in its scriptural interpretations.”
“I’d say,” she readily agreed. “What do you think Christians would think if our findings were made public?”
“They’d think what they want to think. Just like you and me. The evidence is remarkable, but inconsistent. So the faithful would remain faithful, like they have through other controversies. Don’t get me wrong, it would certainly be an enormous dilemma for Christianity. And a public relations nightmare once the press got hold of it.”
“Any possibility this could be a fake?”
Bersei exhaled. “It would have to be one hell of a hoax, but you never know.”
45
******
Jerusalem
By the time Graham Barton returned to his second-floor rental unit in a luxury high-rise conveniently located on Jabotinsky Street in modern Jerusalem, it was already eight-thirty in the evening. After all that had happened today, he was looking forward to a full glass of cabernet sauvignon, a call to his wife to let her know that he was okay, and a long night’s rest.
The bombing at the Great Synagogue had derailed the entire day’s plans. After confirming what had happened, Razak had immediately left to consult with the Waqf on how to handle the incident. Mostly everyone else in Jerusalem had spent the day glued to a television, awaiting updates on the blast. So Barton spent the remainder of the afternoon at the Wohl, catching up on the work he had been neglecting. It took everything in his ethical arsenal to decline a six p.m. invite from Rachel to join her and a friend for drinks. The truth was that he would have loved the diversion.
All day, images of Templar crosses flitted through his thoughts like taunting furies, trying to convey a message and reconstruct a miraculous story that beckoned to be unlocked. Having touched the bones of Christ’s benefactor, he was agonizing over the possibilities of what the missing ossuary might have contained and who could have possibly known how to find it.
Now, seeing the violence that was unraveling this city, he felt obligated to come up with real answers that might help the situation. But after the harrowing experience he and Razak had endured in Gaza, he was wondering if the Israelis knew more than they were letting on. He was also concerned that the gunmen might still be anxious to find him and Razak. Who were they working for? he wondered.
The truth was that so far, he had come up with nothing meaningful for the investigation—at least as far as the authorities would be concerned. As promised, he had been making inquiries to his international contacts in the antiquities markets. But nothing suspicious had yet turned up.
Surely Topol and Teleksen would soon be reaching out to him to turn up the pressure.
As he inserted his key into the front door lock, he barely registered three figures coming up the stairwell. He leaned back to get a better view. That’s when Topol and two burly, uniformed officers rounded the corner and came closer in rigid strides.
Topol gave him a cursory nod. “Good evening Mr. Barton.”
A sense of foreboding swept over the Englishman. Sooner than anticipated, an evening visit from policemen —and to his residence. Nothing good could come of that, he thought. He eyed their holstered handguns. Coming from the UK, the sight of so many weapons openly paraded around was unnerving. “Good evening to you, commander.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Topol’s dark eyes were hard, unblinking. “It will make our visit more meaningful.”
