Skeleton 03 - The Constantine Codex (34 page)

It was the chair’s responsibility to bring the conclave back to life. Again Jon cleared his throat. “Now, perhaps, it’s time to . . . to get a few reactions from the group? Comments of any kind?”

That opened the floodgates. Torrents of response poured out across the room like a deluge-swollen waterfall, and Jon was hard-pressed to keep those with hands raised in numerical order for recognition. Many of the comments were variations on the theme of how much the new material sounded like the rest of what Luke wrote in his Gospel and the book of Acts, citing example after example.

“Not to pat ourselves on the back,” Mac MacAdam said, “but the way many of us had theoretically reconstructed what happened to Paul after Acts breaks off turned out to be pretty close to the mark. It’s exciting to see hypothesis turn into fact—well, once again, with that nagging proviso: authenticity.”

“And on that subject,” Jon responded, “I have not the slightest doubt
whatever
that our codex is authentic. Who, in the name of God-given common sense, could have faked page after page after page of this codex in fourth-century Greek uncials? The answer, of course, is no one, no one at all.
Still
, because the masses out there would be howling otherwise, we plan to test the codex as much as if we suspected that it was a crude fraud.”

“What sort of tests?” Ed Yamauchi wondered.

“Two kinds: linguistic and material tests. Clearly, the Mark 16 Blue-Ribbon Task Force is our exemplar here, and the same procedures will apply also to Second Acts, which, obviously, will take much longer to implement in view of the larger amount of material.”

Brendan Rutledge raised his pen. “Why, then, don’t we change the name of the Mark 16 group to . . . say . . . the Constantine Codex Task Force, in view of its added responsibilities?”

Much affirmative nodding followed. “I like it, Brendan,” Jon said. “What about the ‘Blue Ribbon’ part of it?”

“
Forget
the Blue Ribbon!” von Schwendener bellowed. “Who ever attached that stupid phrase to task forces in the first place? It was good only for Pabst beer!”

General laughter erupted, a welcome release.

Dan Wallace raised a sober warning. “You realize, of course, that it’ll be next to impossible to keep a secret of this colossal size under wraps for very long, don’t you, Jon? It would take God’s own miracle to keep the news from spilling out over the months it’ll take to do a full commentary.”

“Right! I guess that’s part of the package: the greater the discovery, the less the chances of keeping it secret. And yet, somehow we
must
. We’ve
got
to hold the news or our work will be constantly interrupted by the media. Any bright ideas?”

Shannon volunteered. “Why don’t we suspend the commentary part of it? Commentaries on the Mark material and Second Acts will be written for years to come in any case. If we wait until we also produce any sort of ‘official commentary,’ it could take years and years—like the notorious delay in getting all the Dead Sea Scrolls edited and translated. Over that long a period, confidentiality would be outright
impossible
. So I propose that on the day we go public with this, we provide only the Greek text, as well as an official English translation that will have just a few commentary footnotes on each page, very much like our present-day study Bibles.”

The conference mulled it over. Finally Sally Humiston said, “That’s good, Shannon,
really
good! I’m all for it. I really think that’s the way we ought to go.”

Shouts of “Hear, hear!” rattled across the room, and it was so decided.

“Now you see why I married this wonder woman,” Jon said gallantly—and honestly. He bent over and gave her a big hug.

“Not here, Jon,” she whispered in embarrassment.

“On another matter,” he resumed, “I wonder if those whom we haven’t shanghaied for the Constantine Codex Task Force might be willing to serve on another committee with an almost equally crucial function. Its charge will be to ponder two very simple questions, but their recommendations might really shake this planet. Here, I think, are the two questions: One, should the ICO suggest that the New Testament canon be opened to include not only the true ending of Mark’s Gospel, but also the second book of Acts? And two, if so, how can this best be achieved?”

There were many indrawn breaths, yet no one volunteered a word.

“Good,” Jon said. “Any attempt at an answer would be utter folly at this point. After I pass out copies of the Greek text of Second Acts, will those not on the Constantine Codex Task Force be kind enough to serve on the second committee?” He looked around the room and saw more than enough hands raised to form that committee as well.

“Excellent!” he said. “As we close, let me remind all of you how much I hate slogans, cutesy acrostics, and above all, convention themes, all of them ruined by speaker after speaker inflicting deadly boredom on their hearers through mindless repetition of the theme. And yet it seems that I myself have succumbed. Please let the initials of the USA inform our procedures from this point on: Urgency, Secrecy, Action!”

Jon invited Kevin Sullivan to spend the night with them in Weston, and he was delighted to accept. After dinner, they had a predictably lively chat—a fireside version since it was a cool night in late October.

“I should have kept you in better touch, Kev,” Jon said, “but all this broke rather quickly for us, as you now know.”

“Wouldn’t have missed today’s meeting for the world, Jon. I think it was the start of a great chapter in church history—heck, in general history—and I was here to witness it. But when can I tell the Holy Father?”

“Thought you’d never ask! And the answer is obvious: just as soon as you return to Rome. For the moment, please reproduce the handouts only once and for his eyes only. Benedict will understand, I’m sure.”

“Of course he will, and he’ll also be elated beyond measure.”

“He
wil
l
? I worry that you conservative Catholics might find a potential
new
New Testament upsetting.”

“Only if any of the new material contradicted the old, but that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. Instead, it corroborates and expands on our present New Testament. Nothing wrong with that . . . in fact, everything
right
with that.”

“You think he might even consider . . . opening the Canon, then?”

“Well, I didn’t say that. Besides, I think it would take nothing less than an ecumenical council to decide that.”

“Yes, I think so too. Hard to imagine what that would even look like, isn’t it? But that’s getting
way
ahead of ourselves. Right now, somehow, I’ve got to pry the codex out of the hands of the Ecumenical Patriarch in Istanbul so we can test it here in the States. And getting it here could be quite complicated. Any inspired ideas on how to pull that off?”

“Oh, just have him send it surface mail. Ships are quite reliable when it comes to delivery. That should do.”

Jon did a double take, at which Kevin broke out laughing. “I really know how to pull your chain, don’t I, Jon?”

“Ever the Jesuit jester! Okay, let’s get serious. I think I overdid it in claiming I’d have to ‘pry’ the codex out of the patriarch’s hands. I’m sure he’d cooperate, but that doesn’t solve the political problem or the logistics. Even though the codex would merely be on loan to us, the Turkish government might not let it out of the country, especially if they had any inkling how incredibly important it is.”

“I’m afraid that’s true. All the Mediterranean countries are now supersensitive about antiquities being ‘plundered’ from them, as they put it.”

They pondered the problem for some minutes. Suddenly Kevin said, “Wait a minute; I do have an idea. When’s the last time Bartholomew visited the U.S.?”

“I’m not sure he ever has.”

“Better yet! Why not have, say, St. Vladimir’s seminary in New York invite the eastern pope to America? That way he could bring the codex along as part of his official sacred baggage, so to speak. Pope Benedict has visited the U.S. several times; why not the eastern pontiff?”

“Why not indeed! Good thinking, Kev.”

“And if a Turkish customs official dared to check out Bartholomew’s carry-on items, he could say that the codex, although old, was to be used in liturgical worship while he was in America. He wouldn’t have to tell them
how
old it is. Or the testing that’s planned. Or why.”

Jon frowned. “But it’s not the whole truth, Kev. See, that’s what I dislike about you Jesuits. You never got beyond ‘the end justifies the means’ mentality with your Jesuitical lies . . .”

Kevin stared in shock at his friend.

“Ha! Gotcha.” Jon burst out with a huge guffaw. “Tit for tat! I really know how to pull
your
chain, don’t I, Kev? No, it’s a
great
plan! Wish I’d have thought of it in the first place!”

Over the next weeks, the plan was implemented. First, Jon Express Mailed the patriarch all the materials he had passed out to the scholars in Cambridge. Next, St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary at Crestwood in Greater New York City was more than cooperative. Not only would they be honored by such a visit, but so would the Eastern Orthodox Church bodies in the United States and their members, nearly two million strong. The seminary would also be glad to arrange cross-country appearances for Bartholomew, if he wished, and they sent the Ecumenical Patriarch a warm and enthusiastic invitation.

When he received the glad word that Bartholomew had accepted, Jon arranged a phone conversation with the patriarch over a secure line through the U.S. consulate in Istanbul. Bartholomew understood immediately the other purpose for his visit and even assured Jon that the whole transaction would be absolutely ethical, since the codex was clearly the property of the Eastern Orthodox Patriarchate, not the Republic of Turkey.

Jon was elated and had already set up a testing schedule for the codex both at the Smithsonian in Washington and the radiocarbon labs at the University of Arizona in Tucson. Both institutions had reported that the five brownish leaves Shannon had discovered were datable to the third century and fully authentic.

The patriarch’s visit was scheduled to begin just after Epiphany. Jon and Shannon could barely wait to see the codex again. The document had become part of their very lives. Never had Advent seemed more anticipatory—or longer. For once, their central focus at the close of the year was not Christmas but Epiphany.

By some divine intervention, apparently, the great scholarly secret seemed to be holding, and the two codex task forces were making dedicated progress. Perhaps, with testing complete, the public announcement could come later that spring.

On January 8, Jon and Shannon were in New York to be part of the welcoming party at JFK, along with a delegation from St. Vladimir’s. In the process of receiving the Ecumenical Patriarch, of course, Jon was virtually lusting after his literary special delivery. The arriving coterie of Eastern Orthodox clergy stood in marked contrast to the other travelers as they emerged through customs—uniformly black gowns, suits, and hats against a cavalcade of color among the other passengers. Jon and Shannon spied Bartholomew before he saw them, that tall figure of patriarchal dignity who seemed almost haloed from the rest. They hurried to greet him.