Shrouded In Silence

by Robert L. Wise

  "Here comes Dov," Jack said. "I hear his cane thumping on the walk outside."

  "Good. We can start the discussion."

  The door opened and Dov Sharon walked in. "Boker tov," he said in Hebrew. "Shalom to all."

  Michelle studied Dov, a small man. Jack had first met him while working in the Armenian Library in Jerusalem. With wiry black hair that stuck out in every direction, Dov's intense, penetrating, dark-brown eyes fit well with his handsome long, narrow face. Dov didn't say much and seemed to constantly glance around the room or shoot a look out the window. He acted like a man who remained suspicious of some undefined entity.

  The Sharon family had migrated to Israel after his grandparents barely escaped execution in the Auschwitz concentration camp in southwest Poland. Their time in a kibbutz had been difficult. Dov had been a sabra, a native-born Israeli. Jack had greatly admired the tenacity of the Sharon family, and when he discovered Dov's exceptional ability to translate ancient Hebrew, he signed him up for their team. The choice proved valuable, but Michelle remained unsure.

  "I brought you a cup of coffee," Michelle said and handed it to Dov. "It will warm your heart."

  "Toda raba," Dov thanked her in Hebrew. "You have started my engine running."

  Jack pointed to the other room. "Let's go in and sit around the conference table. Bring any papers or documents you need. We'll be updating our work."

  Michelle picked up her coffee and a file. "I'm ready."

  She paused and watched her husband for a moment. A gentle sort of man who could forget the time of day while walking down the street, he was actually on the shy side. Michelle had learned early in their relationship that weight lifting had helped him overcome much of his childhood bashfulness. Under Jack's short-sleeved shirt, she couldn't help noticing his strong, muscular arms. His unusual strength remained one of the paradoxes in this man's life. Although brilliant, he got lost watching people walk by or gazing at some strange sight. But no matter how often he disappeared in his thoughts, she loved him because he was such a kind man and generous to a fault.

  "I'm ready as well," Dov walked behind her.

  Jack sat down at the head of the table. "Dov, you've been working on a Hebrew translation of the Sarajevo Haggadah I noticed."

  "All week. Been checking some of the literary style of this ancient manuscript to sharpen my awareness of any possible shifts in Hebrew during recent times. There are a few unusual pictures as the manuscript came from a time when Jews considered figurative art to be a violation of the commandments. It's rather straightforward. I'm more than ready to shift to your project."

  "Michelle, tell Dov where we are," Jack said. "Let him know how we got to this point in our work. Give him a brief summary."

  Michelle nodded. "Let's start here." She picked up a Bible and opened it to the end of Mark's Gospel. "The King James Version ends by including verses nine to twenty as genuine while the Revised Standard Version puts these same verses in footnotes. For interpreters of the Bible these variations pose a problem. If the Scripture is inspired, how can we make sense out of these differences?"

  "I understand," Dov said. "Such problems make people anxious."

  "Exactly," Michelle said. "There is also a shorter ending that virtually everyone fairly well agrees was tacked on. Even conservative scholars dismiss it."

  "The longer ending is found in some significant manuscripts like Codex Ephraemi and Codex Alexandrinus as well as a number of fragments," Jack added. "Of course, the original ending would have been on papyrus. Because some Church Fathers in the earliest centuries used this ending, Jerome put verses nine through twenty in his Latin Vulgate. That's essentially how it wound up in the King James Version."

  "I see," Dov said thoughtfully.

  "We found an interesting aspect of the longer ending while studying in Jerusalem," Michelle continued. "In three of the oldest Armenian manuscripts, these verses are present, but a fourth manuscript attributed them to a presbyter named Ariston."

  "Fascinating," Dov said. "What about the earliest Church Fathers? How do they stack up?"

  "We found that Clement, Origen, and Eusebius used the shortest ending concluding in 16:8," Jack said. "That adds to our conclusion that the verse eight ending with the Greek word γαρ or, in English, 'for' indicates we have strong evidence that the first ending to the verse was torn off. I believe we are almost ready to start hunting for where the fragment might be hidden here in Rome."

  "You've concluded that there's no question but that the first ending is around Rome somewhere?" Dov sipped his coffee. "You ready for me to bring my shovel to work tomorrow?"

  "Not quite," Michelle said. "We've got to do some cross-checking and more research. I'm concerned that we don't really have enough clues to know where to start looking for the papyrus yet. We've got to dig much deeper in the Vatican Library."

  "And that's what you'd like me to do?" Dov said. "Trudge down to those dark halls and wander through the dusty stacks?"

  "I think so," Michelle said hesitantly. "What about you, Jack?"

  "I agree," Jack said and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I believe we've got to search for clues about what might have happened in the first century to Mark's conclusion to his Gospel. We're going to need to dig farther into sections of the Vatican Library where no one usually looks. You can use one of our passes to get you in. It's not easy to get permission to wander around in those ancient corridors."

  "I think you're going to need to try to get behind the time of Irenaeus, and that won't be easy," Michelle said. "Irenaeus was a disciple of Polycarp, and that will be hard to find if it's even there. We have the writings of Clement, and we believe he was with Paul in Phillipi in A.D. 57. We need to research behind Clement, and that's a real toughie."

  "I suspect that there might be materials in the Vatican Library that may be hidden because they were lost from sight," Jack said. "Who knows what's buried in that pile of ancient documents. I want you to bring an intellectual shovel and start digging deep, Dov."

  Dov grinned. "You know that I'm not particularly comfortable wandering around in the world of Rome's Catholic Church, but I can't think of anything I'd rather do than try to turn up the writing of somebody like Linus or Cletus who might have perished in the persecutions of Nero. Then there was that guy called Laterani. Maybe I can find something new. Sure; I'll hit the stacks."

  "Good," Jack said. "I think that's an important place for you to go today. I understand your reluctance. Many Jews don't exactly trust what the Roman hierarchy did in the past, but you won't have any problems today. You can start going through the archives in Vatican City immediately."

  Dov smiled. "My, my; amazing how times can change. OK, give me your entry documents and I'll tool on down to St. Pete's palace to see what I can rummage out of their garbage pile of old valuables."

  "That's what I like," Jack said. "A devout attitude."

  "We do our best." Dov slowly pushed himself up out of his chair. "The Vatican is not particularly considered a friend of the Jewish people. I'll need that pass to get by the boys who guard the door." He stood up and stretched before walking toward the front office area. "OK, I'm on my way."

  "You are going to seek entry into the Archivum Secretum Apostalicum Vaticanum," Jack said. "The Vatican Secret Archives."

  "Secret Archives!" Dov raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?"

  "Not secret in the sense of hidden," Jack explained. "Secret means the archives are the pope's own private documents, not those of a department of the Curia. It's been estimated that the archives contain fifty-two miles of shelving with more than thirty-five thousand volumes in the selective catalog alone. Who know how much is actually down there?"

  "You want me to cruise through thirty-five thousand books like a kid going around the block on a skateboard?"

  Jack laughed. "Not quite. There's everything down there from the marriage annulment of Henry VIII of England to correspondence with Michelangelo. You'll find the rooms to be elegant a
lmost beyond belief. The ceilings have been painted in a manner similar to the Sistine Chapel. You'll be dazzled.

  "Wow. You're talking big time for a little Jewish boy from the sticks in Israel."

  "Yes," Michelle said. "It's a scholar's paradise. I know that some documents go back to at least the eighth century with an almost uninterrupted documentation from 1198 forward. You're going to dig way behind those dates."

  "What we're after is far behind the eighth century," Jack said. "There's also an Apostolic Penitentiary that has ancient documents with everything from excommunications to the issuance of indulgences. Rather astonishing manuscripts floating around in there as well."

  "I guess so," Dov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I got a hunch that I can see where this is going."

  "The Secret Archives started back with the pontificate of Paul V Borghese. A cardinal suggested they start the archives in the rooms called Paoline, next to the Sistine Chapel. From there it's gone on and on. I want you to see if you can get way below the surface. I believe there is a library underneath these vestiges of the past and it's probably on the bottom floor down there where they do archeological digging on the first-century level under the Vatican. I want you to find the ultimate basement."

  "The entry pass is on my desk," Michelle said. "That'll get you by the priest-guard at the door. From there on, you're on your own, Dov."

  "Don't worry. I'll carry a stun gun and whack anyone who tries to slow me down. As American tourists say, "See ya." Dov waved and shut the door behind him.

  Michelle watched him through the window for several moments as he hurried down the sidewalk that led to the street.

  Michelle said, "Dov worries me. Does anyone really know anything about his history?"

  Jack shook his head. "I know what his family told me. I just thought he was extremely good with ancient Hebrew and was obviously a bright guy. I didn't actually do any research on him."

  "You should have. After all, you could have run into him by accident in that library in Jerusalem, or he might have been there waiting for you."

  "Come on, Michelle. We're only biblical scholars, not terrorists looking for nuclear weapons. Why would anyone want to intrude on our work?"

  "Have you forgotten about that Albert Stein, that belligerent German scholar? Your book flattened his attack on Christianity and made him angry enough to want to kill us."

  "I think you're overstating the case," Jack said.

  "Oh really? Listen, when we ran into him at the Translation Seminar at The Hague, I thought it would take a team of bouncers to keep him from attacking you with a chair."

  Jack shrugged. "The guys reactionary with a short fuse. I didn't take him seriously."

  "Obviously. Just like you didn't take Dov that seriously."

  Jack rubbed his forehead and slid his hand over his face. "Maybe, I should have checked Dov out more carefully, but I still think Dov's exactly what his parents said he was."

  "You have a brilliant mind with a few snags. One of them is that you tend to be too trusting. All I am saying is that we need to be careful. There may be people out there who don't like us tinkering around with how the Gospel of Mark is supposed to end."

  Jack shrugged. "I suppose you're right, but I guess it's a little late to be running an investigation on Dov. I don't think the National Security Agency or the Central Intelligence Agency would be interested in getting in on the problem."

  "Now you're blowing me off," Michelle said.

  "You know that I always take you seriously."

  She poked a finger in his face. "Then pay attention to our boy, Dov. Watch him closely. Understand?"

  Jack nodded. "I'll give it some thought."

  Michelle shook her head. "I bet you will."

  7

  A hush had settled over Dr. Albert Stein's office with Klaus sitting at the opposite end of the room saying nothing. Periodically, Stein glanced through his thick glasses at his new chauffeur and body guard sitting stoically in the corner. Burchel had shed his shabby street look and shown up in a three-button brown wool suit of finely woven quality. Ties were definitely optional and occasional at best in Rome, but added the finishing touch. The dark purple shirt with a striped bluish tie reflected the best taste of a clothier with a good eye. Even with his head shaved, Burchel had taken on the look of a young business executive wearing tasseled leather shoes of the Bristol style. Out of the corner of his eye, Stein watched Burchel's stiff, erect posture, which appeared to be a sign of paying rigid attention.

  Dr. Stein's small office didn't compare well with the spacious chambers he was accustomed to in the family estate in Germany. Yet, the space proved sufficient because he liked having books around at arm's length. One entire wall had disappeared behind a vast bookcase that movers had hauled in. The shelves now contained old, worn books and manuscripts that filled the shelves to the ceiling. Dusty, ancient curtains hung from the top of the window to the floor, imparting a morose atmosphere. The rug had fulfilled its purpose more than a decade earlier, but the dilapidated carpeting with a few holes here and there still stood over the worn wooden floor. The antiquity of the office matched Stein's preoccupation with archaeology.

  Turning the pages slowly, Stein continued reading for another twenty minutes. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he concluded that Klaus had been sitting in the straight-back wooden chair for more than forty-five minutes without moving. Not bad for an undisciplined punk from the gutter. The man had passed his first test.

  "Your grandfather would have been proud of you," Stein said and turned his book over. "I know you hate sitting there doing nothing but what I commanded you to do."

  Klaus flinched, but said nothing.

  "See! You can control yourself if you put your mind to it. Such control is important for the business at hand. Do you understand?"

  Klaus nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Ah! Excellent responses. Your style has been acting out like a madman on a drunken spree. I am teaching you again how to restrain yourself just as your parents tried to do."

  Burchel flinched. "Might I ask a question?"

  "You are reflecting the good family background that you came from when your parents attempted to train you correctly as a child. The whole story is in your file. Yes, requesting to ask a question is exactly what I expect."

  "May I ask what you are studying?"

  Albert lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the air. "Have you heard of the Nag Hammadi texts?"

  Klaus shook his head. "No, sir."

  "In 1945 in Upper Egypt in the village of Nag Hammadi, a peasant discovered a collection of twelve leather-bound papyrus books that provided a major breakthrough for modern scholarship. These writings dated back to the second century and gave us new insight into Gnosticism. I believe they reflect the influence of Gnosticism on early Christianity. Unfortunately, the importance of these manuscripts has not been fully appreciated by the Church. I am trying to remedy that problem."

  "Gnosticism?" Klaus frowned. "What is that?"

  "It comes from the Greek word for 'knowing' or 'knowledge.' Gnosticism is fundamentally a religious system that takes the believer into a realm of mystical thoughts and imparts hidden insights."

  Burchel frowned. "I know nothing of what you are saying. Sounds sort of like Zen."

  "Not bad." Klaus smiled. "The word Zen would make sense to many of your contemporaries. However, the issues from the Nag Hammadi library are far more consequential than Oriental mysticism. We know the first Church Fathers were opposed to the Gnostics, and the texts that I am studying might prove the Church Fathers were incorrect rather than the Gnostics."

  Klaus blinked several times. "Wouldn't that destroy the Church as we know it?"

  "You are a bright boy, Burchel. It is one of the reasons that I hired you. Underneath that drug-stuffed skull of yours is a brain that will work if you allow it to do so. You have the capacity to draw quick and insightful conclusions." Albert smiled. "Yes, if my ideas are right, the contemporary church
would be destroyed."

  Klaus rubbed his head and pursed his lips. "Why would you want to destroy the Church?"

  "Because it is filled with error and deception! I believe the ancient Gnostics to have been more honest and forthright. Building on a corrupt Jewish heritage, the Church went flying off into the sky pursuing political ideas that finally landed them in control of the government of the Middle Ages and produced an oppressive world order run by a pope. See where I am going?"

  Burchel nodded his head several times. "Yes. Yes. Germany suffered under such controls. I see the possibilities, but what are you reading that gives you these ideas?"

  Albert held up a book. "This is The Gospel of Judas. I also have The Gospel of Thomas and The Apocalypse of Adam. Other such books await my scrutiny."

  Klaus scooted to the edge of his chair. "Can you tell me some of what you are discovering? Some of the ideas?"

  Stein shrugged. "For example, some of the texts suggest that Jesus believed in two messiahs. These messiahs' objective would not be some eschatological end-time return but the founding of an earthly kingdom."

  "That's wild," Klaus said. "Never heard of such a thing."

  "I fascinate you?" Stein smiled. "Yes, Burchel, I can fill your empty head with many ideas that will give you a new perspective. You are working with a man who can pay with much more than just money."

  Klaus rubbed his chin. "Do you believe anything in the Bible?"

  "I find passages that fit with these Gnostic gospels and I accept them because I find meaning that other scholars have missed."

  "Interesting." Klaus kept nodding his head. "Can you give me an example of a passage that you believe is true?"