“Looking at all this, one thing doesn’t fit together,” Anne said, obviously perplexed.
Castle expected that she was going to be upset at the suffering her brother was going through. Obviously, this was a concern Anne repeatedly expressed. But this morning something else was on her mind.
“If I am getting this right, first my brother experienced the stigmata on his wrists and then he suffered the scourge injuries. Is that correct?” she asked.
“That’s right,” Castle said.
“Now we see my brother experiencing the crown of thorns, then he levitates and gets the stigmata in his feet, right?”
“Yes,” Castle said once again. “That’s right. What’s your point?”
“My point is that it’s out of order,” Anne said. “The way Christ suffered his passion and death was that first he was scourged at the pillar, then the crown of thorns was placed on his head. He didn’t suffer nail wounds until later, when he was crucified. If my brother is manifesting Christ’s passion and death, the order of his injuries is all wrong.”
Castle could see that Anne had hit on an important point. “What do you think it means?” he asked her.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Anne answered. “But I think it must have something to do with what Dr. Silver told us at Princeton.”
“What do you mean?” Castle pressed again.
“I think it has to do with time,” she explained. “My brother told me he felt his mission was to decipher the message of the Shroud for the world. Maybe he’s showing us that time does not necessarily happen like we experience it. Maybe the events of Christ’s passion and death are all still happening somehow, as if those moments never ended. If that were so, my brother is able to go back and key into this moment or that moment of Christ’s torture and death, but he doesn’t necessarily have to do so in the sequence the events were seen to have followed some two thousand years ago.”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Castle said.
“I mean, think about it,” Anne said. “In a way, Christ’s death preceded his scourging and crowning with thorns.”
Castle struggled to follow this point. “I was following you up to now, but you just lost me.”
Anne began to explain. “It’s about how the tree defines the seed. Father Middagh has just explained that the way the ancient Romans crucified people depended on how the executioners wanted the crucified man to die. We just heard that the Romans scourged Christ to within an inch of his life because the Sabbath was approaching and Christ had to die quickly on the cross, in order to comply with the rules of the Jews that Christ’s body had to be buried by sundown Friday. So, in that regard, the death of Christ was a reality that even two thousand years ago preceded his scourging at the pillar and determined exactly how he was crucified—whether or not he would have a seat to rest on and a footrest, for instance.”
“There’s another point here,” Morelli said, picking up on the theme. “In a way, the Shroud of Turin is a book. Examining the wounds of the man in the Shroud gives us clues as to exactly how he was punished and killed. We read motivations into the crown of thorns, namely that Christ was mocked as the supposed King of the Jews, a concept the Roman centurions thought laughable. Otherwise there would have been no point in the mock crown designed to torment Christ.”
“My brother continues to use the word codex to describe the Shroud,” Anne said. “He said the Shroud was a codex, a secret message that he intended to decipher. My brother also said he never quit being a physicist and that this was the crowning experiment of his life. What my brother researched was time. Like Dr. Silver told us, my brother, when he was at the Institute for Advanced Study, was working out advanced particle physics equations in order to prove we live in a universe that may involve ten or more dimensions, not just the four dimensions we think we live in. The point is that time is not as we experience it every day, not a logical progression from birth to death, from infancy to old age—not a straight line at all.”
Just then, Castle’s cell phone went off, interrupting the meeting.
Castle took the call. Archbishop Duncan was on the other end of the line.
“The pope would like to talk with you,” Duncan said simply.
This did not entirely take Castle by surprise, not after the worldwide attention Fernando Ferrar’s video broadcast had received. “Okay, when?”
“At one P.M. today,” Duncan said. “If you are available, my office will arrange a three-way conference call with the Vatican, to include you and me with the pope.”
“That will work,” Castle said. “I want you to call me on my private landline in my office.”
“Will do,” Duncan agreed.
“Unfortunately, this meeting is over,” Castle announced to the group in the conference room. “That was Archbishop Duncan and we’ve got an important conference call with the pope at one P.M. today.”
“Should we wait to go to the hospital with you?” Anne asked.
“No,” Castle said. “You go ahead. The hospital emailed me, and the report on your brother this morning is that he is out of the burn unit and resting quietly in intensive care.”
“Do you see any reason for me to go to the hospital?” Middagh asked.
“No,” Castle answered. “I think it’s better not to confront Father Bartholomew with a crowd. Your presentation today has been very helpful. Thank you, again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Monday afternoon
Dr. Stephen Castle’s office, New York City
1:00 P.M. ET, 7:00 P.M. in Italy
Day 19
The conference call came through to Dr. Castle’s office on time, as expected.
“Can Father Bartholomew travel?” the pope asked Castle immediately.
“I’m not sure,” Castle answered. “I’m going to the hospital this afternoon to check on him. If his last injuries are any indication, he should recover rapidly. I can confirm it this evening, but I expect Father Bartholomew is going to be much stronger in a day or two. What do you have in mind?”
“I want to bring Father Bartholomew to the Vatican,” the pope answered. “We need to manage this situation from Rome. Father Bartholomew’s story is drawing tens of millions of believers and skeptics around the world and it’s more than Archbishop Duncan can or should have to handle on his own.”
“Thank you, Holy Father,” Duncan said, relieved that he might soon transfer primary responsibility for Father Bartholomew to the Vatican. “I think I need to stay here in New York, if only to deal with the press. That’s a responsibility that should fall to me.”
“Agreed,” the pope said. “You’ve got millions of people in New York and the United States who are now closely following Father Bartholomew.”
“We’re getting swamped with press requests,” Duncan noted.
“Even in Italy, Father Bartholomew has become a sensation,” the pope said. “Italians love the stigmata. When I was a boy growing up in the 1950s, Padre Pio was all the rage in Italy. He was on all the televisions. Every newspaper or magazine you picked up had a story about Padre Pio. I never was in favor of him being canonized, but then I guess a lot of Italians would say I’m prejudiced. I’m from northern Italy and Padre Pio was from southern Italy.”
Castle understood. “Are you implying you’ve concluded Father Bartholomew is a fraud?”
“I’m not implying anything,” the pope responded. “I just want Father Bartholomew in Rome where we can deal with him directly. This is the age of twenty-four-hour cable television news and the Internet. Father Bartholomew is an international celebrity. Have you seen how many people are watching the videos about Father Bartholomew on the Internet? In Italy alone the numbers are in the millions.”
“Am I off the case, then?” Castle asked.
“No,” the pope answered quickly. “If you can, I want you to clear your schedule and come to Rome with Father Bartholomew. I’m arranging for a chartered jet to arrive there tomorrow morning. The jet will have
hospital facilities and I will send along a Vatican medical staff—provided you determine Father Bartholomew can leave tomorrow evening and be here in Rome on Wednesday morning.”
Castle thought quickly. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m going to be at Beth Israel Hospital a little later today and I will begin figuring out when we can travel. How long do you think we will be in Italy?”
“I have no idea,” the pope answered. “Until this thing is over. That’s all I can say at this point.”
Castle considered carefully what that might mean in terms of his commitments to his patients. “It will be complicated,” he said quietly, “but I’ll do it.”
“One more thing,” the pope added.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to bring with you Father Morelli and Father Middagh. It’s time for Father Morelli to return to the Vatican. We are going to need Father Middagh’s expertise on the Shroud.”
“What about Anne Cassidy?” Castle asked. “She’s Father Bartholomew’s half sister. Should we bring her, too?”
“By all means,” the pope said. “She’s family. But there’s one more person I want you to bring, and this one might surprise you.”
“Who’s that?” Castle asked.
“That television reporter,” the pope said. “I want you to invite Fernando Ferrar and his mobile television crew. I’m going to send you a large airplane and you will have room.”
“But won’t that just make it a circus?” Castle wondered out loud.
“It’s going to be a circus no matter what we do,” the pope answered. “His boss will send Fernando Ferrar to Rome to report for the television network, regardless of what we do. If we try to keep him out of the tent, we’re only going to raise his suspicions. Let’s prove to him the Vatican has nothing to hide here. There’s no better way to do that than for the Vatican to extend him an invitation to come to Rome at our expense.”
“Any restrictions on what Ferrar can film or report on?” Duncan asked.
“None, as far as I’m concerned,” the pope answered. “That is, unless Ferrar or his camera crew get in the way of Father Bartholomew’s medical treatment. I’ll let you, Dr. Castle, make that judgment call. You are still Father Bartholomew’s attending physician. There should be no concern about Father Bartholomew getting excellent medical care in the flight across the Atlantic. Father Bartholomew may be leaving the hospital, but the chartered airplane I’m sending you will be the next best thing.”
Thinking through the trip, Castle realized that his associate, Professor Marco Gabrielli, was planning to unveil his modern Shroud duplicate at a press conference in Bologna on Thursday.
He explained this to the pope and archbishop.
“Should I plan to attend Gabrielli’s press conference?” Castle asked the pope.
“Absolutely,” the pope said. “You should attend and you should bring everybody with you, including Fathers Morelli and Middagh. Let them see firsthand what Gabrielli is capable of producing.”
“What about Fernando Ferrar and his camera crew?” Castle wondered.
“Absolutely,” the pope said again. “Take Fernando Ferrar and his video crew as well. On Thursday morning, the Vatican will charter another airplane to take you from Rome to Bologna. Coordinate with Professor Gabrielli so the press conference doesn’t start until after you get there. If your friend Gabrielli proves the Shroud is a fake, so be it. Let Ferrar broadcast the story live to the world from the press conference.”
“I admire your courage, Holy Father,” Dr. Castle said.
“Courage has nothing to do with it,” the pope said firmly. “I’m not about to let the credibility of the Catholic Church rest on whether or not a relic is authentic. Nor am I going to bet on a priest who may turn out to be mentally disturbed. My job is to run the Catholic Church, absent the Shroud of Turin and absent Father Bartholomew.”
As soon as the conference call with the Vatican was over, Castle telephoned Gabrielli in Bologna to tell him he would be arriving in Italy on Wednesday morning and would be attending the press conference in Bologna on Thursday in person.
“That’s great news,” Gabrielli said with enthusiasm. He was also very pleased to know Castle was bringing along Fernando Ferrar and his television crew.
“This is going to be a huge international event.” Gabrielli was bubbling with excitement. “Wait until you see my Shroud. I think it’s the crowning achievement of my career.”
“Have you seen the videos of Father Bartholomew levitating in St. Patrick’s Cathedral?” Castle asked.
“Of course I’ve seen them,” Gabrielli answered. “I think every man, woman, and child in Europe has seen them. Too bad Bartholomew isn’t Italian. He might be our next saint, but first he would have to be prime minister.”
Castle laughed at the thought. “What did you think of the levitation?”
“Oldest trick in the book,” Gabrielli answered with conviction.
“What do you mean?”
“Every stage magician in the world has a levitation trick,” Gabrielli explained. “I’m sure you have seen them. The beautiful young woman assistant walks onstage with almost no clothes on. The magician appears to hypnotize her. He lays her down horizontally and appears to put her to sleep. Then he moves his hands about magically and appears to be causing her to rise into the air, still sound asleep. To top off the trick, the magician runs a hoop all around the levitating woman to show there are no ropes or wires that are lifting her up. When he brings the woman back to earth and wakes her up, she appears to have had no recollection of anything that just happened.”
“So, you are saying Father Bartholomew’s miracle was nothing more than a magic trick?”
“That’s exactly what I am saying,” Gabrielli said in a tone of certainty.
“So explain to me,” Castle said. “How’s it done?”
“Easy. First you have to understand that nobody in the history of the world has ever levitated, not Hindu mystics and not Jesus Christ, though I will admit that his ascension into Heaven has to have been one of the world’s greatest illusions. I only wish I had been there to see it.”
Castle listened with quiet amusement to Gabrielli’s assessment of Father Bartholomew’s miracle. “So how is the levitation trick done?”
“Usually with hydraulics,” Gabrielli said. “The magician stands behind the levitating woman just right, so as to hide a hydraulic lift bar behind him that connects to a steel bed on which the sleeping woman rests. Sometimes the woman wears a thin body veil that helps hide the steel bar bed and the hydraulic mechanism.”
“How does the magician get away with passing a steel hoop all around the levitating woman to indicate there’re no wires involved?”
“The hydraulic lift bar can be built with a U-shape that connects the bar to the steel bed. The magician can move the hoop around the U-shape to create the illusion he has passed the hoop completely around the woman. Actually, he just moves the hoop to the end of the U-shape and then reverses direction. It looks like he has gone all around her, but actually he hasn’t. Remember, most magic tricks involve misdirection.”
“Do you think this is what Father Bartholomew did?” Castle asked. “Did he fake his levitation by using tricks an accomplished magician would easily recognize?”
“I don’t know. But after Father Bartholomew collapsed, I doubt if you, or anyone else, did much to search around that altar to see if there were any magician’s mechanisms around. I also doubt you checked around to find out if Father Bartholomew had any accomplices who were in on the illusion.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said Fernando Ferrar and the film crew were inside the cathedral when Father Bartholomew levitated, right?”
“Yes, they were,” Castle said, intrigued by where Morelli was going with this. “Ferrar and his film crew were already in the cathedral when I got there.”
“Well, video cameras and news crews are not routinely admitted inside Catholic churches, an
d I doubt Fernando Ferrar had Archbishop Duncan’s permission,” Gabrielli said. “Who tipped Ferrar off to be at the church that morning?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ferrar has a vested career interest in being the only reporter to film Father Bartholomew’s supposed miracle, right?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And Father Bartholomew had a vested interest in making sure his miracle was filmed.”
“I guess you could look at it that way.”
“Well then, I wouldn’t rule out Ferrar as being an accomplice,” Gabrielli said, satisfied that he had made his point. “Maybe Ferrar both filmed the event and operated the hydraulics that made Father Bartholomew’s levitation possible. When Father Bartholomew sister screamed and fainted, that was perfect for the misdirection needed to end the illusion. All attention went to her. Nobody paid any attention to the priest, until he then collapsed on the cathedral floor. I couldn’t have designed the illusion better myself.”
Castle had to admit he had not thought about these possibilities before. “I guess that’s why you are the world’s expert on debunking miracles,” he commented. “I guess I just don’t think like a magician.”
“I’ve made a career debunking the paranormal,” Gabrielli said proudly. “I don’t believe in levitating priests and I also don’t believe in Christ being resurrected or ascending into Heaven. It’s not our subject today, but I’m convinced Christ’s resurrection and his ascension are two of the better illusions ever produced by any professional magician anywhere, if they happened at all. As far as I’m concerned, Christ as a magician makes Houdini look like a schoolboy. Right now, what I want to debunk is the Shroud of Turin and I think I’m well along the way to doing so.”
The Shroud Codex Page 21