Ushered into the room next were Dr. Guilio Draghi, the attending physician at Agostino Gemelli University Polyclinic, and Dr. Giorgio Moretti, a top psychiatrist from Rome whom the Vatican had asked to meet with Father Bartholomew to confirm Dr. Castle’s analysis. The priest ushering the doctors into the room made the necessary introductions.
When the three physicians were settled in their gilded chairs in front of the pope’s desk, the doors to the Holy Father’s living quarters opened and Pope John-Paul Peter I walked into the room.
Castle was struck by how small the pope was, no more than five feet, eight inches tall, he judged. Somehow, speaking to Marco Vicente by telephone, Castle had remembered him to be a much taller man. Still, wearing the white cassock and white skullcap of the pope, highlighted by the golden chain and cross that hung down across his chest, Vicente carried himself with the obvious dignity of his office. Bowing down to kiss the papal ring on his finger, Castle was impressed by the pope’s neatly trimmed white hair and the obvious warmth exuded by his soft, olive-colored eyes.
“Gentlemen.” The pope began the meeting as he settled into the seat behind his desk. “I would like to ask you to share with me your medical opinions about Father Bartholomew. We are very pleased to have with us today Dr. Stephen Castle, a top psychiatrist from New York City. Dr. Castle and I have a history of working together that stretches back to when Archbishop Duncan was first appointed to head the Archdiocese of New York. I am going to ask you all to speak with me frankly, as I much prefer to have the truth about Father Bartholomew, regardless of how harsh your opinions may be.”
Dr. Draghi began. “Holy Father, we have examined the CT scan and MRI tests that Dr. Castle had sent from Beth Israel Hospital and we have repeated the tests here in Rome. Our results are identical. Father Bartholomew displays the wounds of Christ’s passion and crucifixion exactly as we see in the Shroud. Father Bartholomew exhibits the stigmata in his wrists and feet. His body shows the scourge marks we see in the Shroud, with an exact match blow for blow. His head from the brow around to the back and on top of the head throughout show the same puncture wounds we see on the Shroud resulting from a cap of thorns, not simply a circular crown of thorns banded around his head at the level of the forehead.”
“I understand,” the pope said.
Draghi continued. “Moreover, our tests show the same result as we saw at Beth Israel. The wounds Father Bartholomew suffered could have been fatal to an average man of his age and physical condition. Yet the wounds have healed remarkably fast and completely, so much so that I cannot now determine after only a few days since the last incident if the nail punctures in his wrists and feet ever went all the way through. There is substantial healing evident from within on all the wounds we see on Father Bartholomew’s body. I have no medical explanation for how or why.”
“What does the psychiatric evaluation show?” the pope asked Dr. Moretti.
“You must understand that my results are preliminary, Holy Father,” Dr. Moretti began, carefully hedging his conclusions. “But I tend to agree with Dr. Castle that Father Bartholomew is suffering from a form of multiple personality disorder. Father Bartholomew is under the illusion that he suffered an after-life experience in which he was given a choice by God to return to life. He believes he can see Jesus and speak with Jesus. He believes that Jesus instructs him in the confessional to give to confessants the precise spiritual advice they need in order to be healed miraculously by the intervention of Jesus. Father Bartholomew further believes his mission from God was to return to life so he could prove the Shroud of Turin is the actual burial cloth of Jesus Christ.”
Listening, Dr. Castle was relieved to hear the Italian psychiatrist chosen by the Vatican agreeing with his diagnosis.
“So, Dr. Moretti, if I understand you correctly: Father Bartholomew, in your opinion, is psychologically disturbed, is that right?” the pope asked.
“Yes, Your Holiness, it is.”
“And you, Dr. Castle, agree with that analysis?” The pope pressed on.
“As Dr. Moretti noted, my analysis is also preliminary,” Castle said carefully. “Neither Dr. Moretti nor I have had much time to work with Father Bartholomew in a therapeutic setting. But, yes, I do concur that Father Bartholomew is suffering from a severe multiple personality disorder in which he has come to identify his ego with Jesus Christ. As you know, Father Bartholomew has managed subconsciously to alter his physical appearance to represent the icon of Christ depicted in the Shroud. I believe all his wounds are psychosomatic in nature.”
“So then, Drs. Moretti and Castle, am I correct in assuming that neither of you is prepared to assert that Father Bartholomew’s stigmata and other injuries have convinced you that the Shroud is authentic?” the pope asked directly.
“That’s right, Your Holiness,” Moretti said. “My conclusion is that Father Bartholomew is suffering from a psychological disorder that proves nothing about the Shroud.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Castle said. “Even when he was a physicist at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, Father Bartholomew was always a loner. He never married. As far as I can tell, the only person Father Bartholomew was ever close to was his mother. When his mother passed away from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a progressive nerve disease, Paul Bartholomew went into a crisis that was the beginning of his current psychological disorder.”
“Dr. Castle, do you think Father Bartholomew can be cured?” the pope asked.
“I don’t know, Your Holiness,” Castle answered. “As I told you and Archbishop Duncan when I agreed to take this case, Father Bartholomew’s case might take years of psychoanalysis and even then I can’t promise results.”
“Do you agree, Dr. Moretti?” the pope asked, wanting to make sure both psychiatrists had a chance to express their professional opinions clearly.
“Yes, Your Holiness, I do.”
The pope sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. “It would be easy for me to dismiss Father Bartholomew, except that now there are millions of Catholics out there who believe in Father Bartholomew. What’s more, with Father Bartholomew manifesting the man we see in the Shroud, millions are now convinced that the Shroud too is authentic. I cannot just dismiss Father Bartholomew without being accused of engaging in a cover-up. People today do not believe official commissions, whether they are about the assassination of President Kennedy in Dallas or whether Adolf Hitler died at the end of World War II instead of escaping to Argentina. Now we have Professor Gabrielli trying to prove the Shroud was a medieval forgery. Up until now, Gabrielli has been a minor celebrity, known primarily in this country, where he has been trying for years to prove that Padre Pio, whom we canonized, is as fake as a statue of Jesus that cries blood. But instead of that, Father Bartholomew has managed to give Gabrielli an international stage. What do you gentlemen suggest I do?”
The three physicians sat silently, thinking.
“Does the Vatican have to do anything?” Dr. Moretti asked.
“It’s a good question,” the pope said, “but after trying for the past few days to convince Professor Gabrielli that duplicating the Shroud will be no easy business, I think I’ve failed. Do you agree with this, Dr. Castle?”
“As I disclosed to you from the beginning, Your Holiness, you know I have been working in association with Professor Gabrielli,” Castle answered. “I’m sure you are all aware of the books I have written and that I profess no affinity for relics like the Shroud that tend to inspire belief in God even if the relics are false. So there is no need for me to hide my beliefs from this group.”
“Rest assured,” the pope said, “your book The God Illusion was translated into Italian and did quite well in the bookstores.”
“Thank you, Your Holiness,” Castle said. He knew the pope was right. “I can tell you for a fact that our meeting at CERN did nothing but convince Professor Gabrielli that he needs to refine his methods in his next try. I have no doubt that the next shroud that my f
riend Gabrielli fabricates will resemble the Shroud of Turin even more convincingly.”
“This is why I tried to tell Pope Paul VI that permitting scientists to examine the Shroud of Turin was a bad idea,” the pope said with obvious frustration. “I got nowhere with Pope Paul VI. He even had to go out and tell the world that the Shroud was a ‘wonderful document of Christ’s passion and death, written in blood,’ or something like that. For my part, I think the Shroud of Turin and Father Bartholomew are both sideshows to a genuine belief in God. Deep down I agree with Dr. Castle, at least in part. The last thing I want to do is to turn the Catholic Church back into a medieval relic factory.”
The pope leaned forward in his chair and began tapping the top of his desk rhythmically with the fingers of his right hand. Silently, he prayed for patience, and guidance from above.
After a moment or two, the pope picked up his phone and instructed that Fathers Morelli and Bartholomew be brought into the room.
Almost instantly, Father Morelli was pushing into the room a wheelchair containing Father Bartholomew. The priest from New York looked almost exactly the way he had looked the day Dr. Castle first met him. Sitting comfortably in the wheelchair, Father Bartholomew was dressed once again in a flowing white robe that together with his long hair and beard gave the impression that he was Jesus Christ reincarnate.
Father Morelli wheeled Father Bartholomew to center stage, positioning the wheelchair between the Italian doctors on the priest’s right and Dr. Castle on the left. Going to the back of the room, Father Morelli brought forward a side chair that he moved so he could sit slightly behind and to the right of Father Bartholomew. By the positioning of the chairs, Castle got the impression the deck was stacked, the Vatican on one side and him on the other.
“Your Holiness, excuse me if I cannot get up to kiss your ring,” Father Bartholomew said humbly.
“That won’t be necessary,” the pope said, unable to completely disguise the irritation he felt at seeing Father Bartholomew in person for the first time. In truth, the pope felt considerable sympathy for the priest. He knew Father Bartholomew was suffering and that his wounds had to be extremely painful. Nor was he convinced that Bartholomew was insane. Conceivably, Father Bartholomew was confronting the Church and the world with a new reality that everyone would have to pay attention to, whether they liked it or not. Still, Father Bartholomew was causing the Church a worldwide commotion and the pope worried that Father Bartholomew’s crisis would be bad for the Church. “I assume you know everyone in the room.”
Looking around, Father Bartholomew acknowledged that he did. “It’s been my good fortune to have had the professional assistance of each of these distinguished doctors,” Bartholomew said deferentially.
“Father Bartholomew, please excuse me if I get directly to the point,” the pope said, displaying less patience than he had planned to show in this meeting. “I agree with these gentlemen that you are suffering a psychological illness from which you may never recover.”
“I understand that, Holy Father,” Father Bartholomew said deferentially.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know what to do with you,” the pope said, expressing openly how perplexed he felt. “Even if you came back from the dead with a photograph of Jesus Christ taken in Heaven, I doubt I could ever declare as a matter of Catholic dogma that the Shroud of Turin is anything more than an artifact worthy of veneration. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Your Holiness, I do.”
“The minute I would declare the Shroud of Turin to be the authentic burial cloth of Christ, it would be just our luck to have some scholar unearth a lost Leonardo da Vinci notebook in which he recorded the methods he used to create the Shroud.”
Saying nothing, Father Morelli appreciated the dilemma. While years of study had led a once-skeptical Morelli to conclude the Shroud was authentic, he did not think it was possible to establish beyond any possible doubt that the Shroud was Christ’s burial cloth. In the final analysis, Morelli agreed with the pope. One would probably always need a leap of faith to see the Shroud as authentic, just as one always needed that leap to believe in the existence of God.
“As all you gentlemen know, my papacy has been predicted to be the last,” Pope John-Paul Peter I said with a steady resolve in his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe the prediction is right. But I will not gamble my future or the future of the Catholic Church on the Shroud of Turin. The moment I would make that proclamation, I would simply empower those like Professor Gabrielli, who is resolved to demonstrate how easily the Shroud could be some clever medieval artist’s idea of a joke.”
Everyone in the room sat silently, digesting the importance of what the pope was saying.
“Furthermore, I don’t fully appreciate how you have raised the stakes,” the pope said pointedly to Father Bartholomew. “Do you understand that?”
“I’m not sure I do,” Bartholomew answered, showing his confusion at the pope’s statement.
“It’s pretty easy if you think about it for a moment,” the pope said, fighting to keep his irritation from being obvious in his voice. “If we end up exposing you as a fraud or a nutcase, I’ve still got a problem. There are millions of people out there who believe in you and they’re ready to turn on me if I don’t. Do you understand me now?”
“Yes, Your Holiness, I guess I do,” Bartholomew said tentatively. “There is just one thing, however, if you will permit me.”
“What’s that?” the pope answered.
“The Shroud of Turin is the authentic burial cloth of Jesus Christ and I have returned to life to prove that,” Bartholomew insisted. “I’m not a fraud and I’m not crazy.”
“I wish you would stop sounding like you’re the one who’s been crucified and resurrected, not Jesus Christ,” the pope said, fighting back frustration. “Maybe we should start seeing if we can update Michelangelo by painting your face in the Sistine Chapel’s scene of the Last Judgment, so you can be sitting there next to Jesus Christ on Judgment Day. Look at you! Don’t you think it’s arrogant to make yourself out to be the Second Coming of Jesus Christ?”
“Actually, Your Holiness, you don’t need to paint my picture in the Sistine Chapel,” Bartholomew said, doing his best to answer the pope with humility. “But Jesus Christ and I were both resurrected and I think I can prove it to you, if you’ll just give me a chance.”
“How’s that?” the pope asked.
“I’ve never seen the Shroud in person, and I would like to do so,” Bartholomew said.
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” the pope said calmly. “But why would I do so?”
“I believe that if I can see the Shroud of Turin in person, I can prove to you it is the authentic burial cloth of Jesus Christ. I also believe I can prove to you that Jesus encoded in the Shroud an important message for all time that it is my responsibility to decode. If I fail on either of those points to persuade you, then I will admit to the world that you are right and I am psychologically disturbed. If I fail, I will readily agree to undergo the years of psychoanalysis the doctors here think I need to be healed of my delusions.”
The pope resumed tapping his desk with the fingers of his right hand. “The problem with your proposal is that it is one-sided.”
“How’s that?” Bartholomew asked.
“You control the outcome and it’s up to you to say whether you will undergo psychoanalysis. How do I know you won’t just see the Shroud and say that it proves you were right?”
“Excuse me, Your Holiness, but I don’t think you fully understood my proposal.”
“So, what did I miss?”
“What I said was that I wanted to see the Shroud of Turin in person and that if I failed to convince you the Shroud is authentic, then I will submit to psychoanalysis. It will be entirely up to you. If we see the Shroud of Turin together, in person, and you come away unconvinced, then that’s it. I will make a public statement that I have been misleading people and I will withdraw from public view into medical treat
ment.”
The pope stood up from his desk and leaned forward, with both his arms extended in front of him so the palms of his hands rested on the top of the desk. He looked Bartholomew squarely in the eye. “You’re a physicist, Bartholomew, and I have been told you are a genius,” the pope said with resolve. “But I warn you not to tempt God. As smart as you think you are, God is smarter.”
“I know that,” Bartholomew said, “and I don’t plan to tempt God or to disappoint you in what I propose to do.”
“And there’s one point on which I will concede you’re a lot like Jesus Christ.”
“What’s that, Your Holiness?”
“You are a troublemaker who is causing the Roman Catholic Church great consternation, just as Jesus Christ caused consternation for the ancient Romans trying to govern Israel.”
“And maybe like Jesus Christ, I will change the world,” Bartholomew said, defending himself. “My mission here is not to cause trouble but to affirm Jesus Christ in his passion, death, and resurrection.”
The pope turned to Father Morelli. “Any reason you think we shouldn’t accept Father Bartholomew’s proposal, Father Morelli?” the pope asked. From the beginning of this affair with Father Bartholomew, the pope had relied upon Morelli’s advice. Besides, the pope knew there was no one who had spent more time with Father Bartholomew since this all began than Morelli had. The pope relied upon Morelli’s judgment and trusted his loyalty to the Vatican. Morelli would never recommend anything that might hurt the papacy.
“I don’t see why not,” Morelli said simply. “I’m sure we can arrange to bring Father Bartholomew to Turin to see the Shroud, and I don’t see what we have to lose. Either something happens that convinces you the Shroud is real and that Father Bartholomew does have a mission from God, or Father Bartholomew has offered you a way to put an end to all this drama.”
The Shroud Codex Page 25