A young waiter automatically placed a bottle of the house wine at the table.
“Perfecto,” he said in thanks. “Grazie.”
It felt like a warm, welcoming, inviting family restaurant with wood-lined walls that were adorned with candlesticks, plates, photographs, and paintings; all likely meaningful to the owners.
“We’ll order, then talk. Trust me, you’ll be well fed.”
McCauley and Katrina decided to share the tagliolini cacio e pepe, a pasta with pecorino cheese and black pepper. Fr. Eccleston chose the filet.
A few bites into the meal, Eccleston returned to their earlier discussion.
“The book is a treasure. But the old priest’s sketch of the interior confused me. Much clearer in your photographs, but still…”
“Father, the pictures aren’t from Denisova. We took them in Montana, in a cave we discovered while exploring for fossils, a half a world away and more than a century apart.”
Eccleston struggled for the right response. It finally came to him. “This isn’t natural.”
“No, it’s not,” McCauley replied. “We thought you might have some sort of theory.”
“We’d also like to see if you can find out anything about Father Emilianov,” Katrina added.
“Like what?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“Well, in the old days the kind of theory I’m working on would have seen me burned at the stake. Fortunately, no one does that anymore.”
McCauley thought back on Bakersfield. “I’m not so sure.”
• • •
For the next thirty minutes, Quinn and Katrina recounted their experiences and how they came to get in touch with Eccleston. It led the priest to what at first seemed like an intellectual discourse.
“Throughout history holy wars have been fought in the name of multiple deities and others justified by a leader proclaiming the word of a single god. Faith has been used as a tool by religious groups, not necessarily under the auspices of the religion itself. And rogue governments have equally persecuted believers they quite simply considered too dangerous to live. Territories have been claimed in the name of trade, where the spoils were measured in gold or a slave’s worth. And to protect their bounty, to hold their borders and to insure their power, churches and institutions alike have relied on fear, lies, hatred, patriotism and fundamentalist principles.”
“It’s as true today as ever,” Katrina stated.
“But with greater fragility,” McCauley added. “News spreads so quickly through social media. Information is so accessible virtually anywhere in the world that words and thoughts, multiplied and amplified by hitting send on a cellphone can topple a regime. We’ve seen it in the Middle East. I’m not so sure it couldn’t happen elsewhere.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. We tread on the thin ice of critical beliefs,” Eccleston replied. “The weight of any social, political, or moral argument can do us in.”
McCauley considered the issues, not just in America, but in an increasingly polarizing world. Each side espouses its positions as God-given rights, whether for or against. Without even realizing it, he started listing the extremes that fuel heated debates on any given day. “Reproduction, guns, immigration, medical insurance, gay rights, food stamps, welfare. It’s all just up or down,” McCauley said. “You’re part of the solution or part of the problem.”
And then he thought of another volatile subject, debated for centuries, more contentious than ever.
“Evolution.”
“Yes,” the priest agreed. He rested his hand on the envelope containing McCauley’s photographs. “It’s still on the table, isn’t it?”
Seventy
“Have you ever heard of “Gap Theory?” Fr. Eccleston asked.
“Yes,” Katrina responded. “Pseudo-science. Dismissible. An explanation that covers ancient geological ages in support of biblical belief.”
“Ancient doesn’t begin to describe it,” the priest said.
Katrina looked confused. McCauley wasn’t certain why the priest was bringing up the subject. It was hardly discussed anymore and seemingly not on point.
“If I may?”
“Go right ahead, Father. Chapter and verse,” McCauley replied.
The priest poured another glass of the house wine from Castelli Romani, south of Rome. He held it to the light to examine the rich reds, drank some, and continued.
“Gap Theory proposes that a span of time existed between Genesis 1:1 and Genesis 1:2. From a strictly theological point of view, Gap Theory maintains that a cataclysmic judgment was prescribed as a result of the fall of Lucifer. For the sake of keeping you in the discussion, let’s put aside the religious construal. I’ll simply call it a line of reasoning.”
“Appreciated,” McCauley said.
“The argument can be traced to the early nineteenth century. As the science of geology gained, pardon the expression, ground, some theologians were at a loss how to counter the scientific claims that the formation of the earth’s surfaces occurred at imperceptibly slow rates. They needed an explanation that supported the biblical record. You might call it scriptural enlightenment: a way to describe the vast geological periods before Adam. Conveniently perhaps, a place was found between the two verses of Genesis.
“It was proposed by a Scotsman, theologian Thomas Chalmers, in 1814. It was further espoused by two American ministers, Cyrus Scofield and Clarence Larkin, and evangelist Harry Rimmer in the twentieth century. Each wrote books on the subject, trying to justify the gap between ruin and reconstruction.”
The priest took another satisfying sip of the wine. He saw that his guests needed more. He gave them each a liberal refill and signaled the waiter for a new bottle.
“Now to specifics. Follow me.”
“We are,” Alpert said.
“Genesis 1:1 expresses the creation of the universe. Then, in geological terms, five billion years presumably came and went, producing ages you’re well aware of with its various life forms. Gap Theory then seeks to explain that all life on Earth was destroyed.”
“The meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs,” Alpert stated.
“Yes, leaving fossils for you to uncover. This cataclysmic event, according to the theorists, is what’s described in Genesis 1:2. This solved the biblical problem of time, and helped to square natural history with the scriptural interval, described as days.”
McCauley interrupted. “Yes, but…”
“Wait,” Father Eccleston said. “It gets better. Gap Theory rests on the need for re-creation. It holds to the paleontological record that has produced dinosaur fossil beds on every continent. It also allows for the sudden transformation of the environment. In a word, it works.”
“But…”
“Not yet, Dr. Alpert,” the priest chided. “I have one other point for you to consider.”
She leaned back in her chair and listened.
“What if…” Eccleston paused. He wanted the full attention of his companions. “What if we dismiss the theological justification? After all, it never gained much support. Strip away the religious argument and stay with the basic idea. Can we accept a gap between life forms? From trilobites through the dinosaurs to the evolution of man?
“Of course,” Katrina replied.
McCauley remained at the table but left the conversation, thinking, Gap. He repeated the word to himself. Definitions rushed forward from his years of study. General usage, medical, mathematical, geographic. An empty space; an interruption in continuity; a divergence; a difference; an interval. Disparity in attitudes, ideals and actions.
If the priest was still talking, McCauley didn’t hear him.
Etymology: gapa – a hole in a wall, a break or pass in a long mountain chain.
Impossible possibilities were coming together. Quickly. The cave. The discovery. The conversations. The attack. The book. And still another notion. It was a dialectic he’d had with his grad students in Montana.
“The absence of
evidence is not the evidence of absence.”
“What?” Katrina asked. McCauley hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“What?” she repeated. “You said, ‘The absence of evidence…”
“Is not the evidence of absence. A gap.”
Katrina was still confused. “The gap?”
“Not the gap. A gap. Before.”
“Before? Before what?” Katrina wondered.
“Before what is described in Genesis.”
“Or part of it,” Eccleston said. “We better leave.” He signaled for the check. “Let’s move this to my apartment.”
McCauley paid the tab. On the way out, Katrina pulled him close and asked the inevitable follow up while the priest walked a few feet ahead. “What were you talking about? It obviously scooted us out of there.”
“An epiphany. Or,” McCauley admitted, “a wild ass assumption. I’ll explain.”
Father Eccleston bounded up the three flights with Quinn and Katrina in tow. He asked forgiveness for the mess they’d face and the reason: “My roommates. I’ll keep the lights down. You’ll hardly notice. Even in full daylight there isn’t much to see except the simple residence of three priests, two of them slobs.”
He directed them to the couch. “Sit down. We’re alone. Fr. Densey and Fr. Santiago left on sabbatical. So we’ll be able to speak openly. I’ll be right back.”
As Eccleston went through his cabinets, McCauley glanced around the apartment. Eccleston’s description of Spartan was completely accurate. White walls, few chairs, low wood coffee table, lamps that didn’t match, an old throw rug, and no living room curtains. Apparently good enough for a trio of priests living off-site on limited Vatican stipends, right down to the three wine glasses Eccleston returned with that didn’t match.
“Sabbatical. An interesting word in itself, wouldn’t you say?” Eccleston noted while pouring. “From Greek sabbatikos and Latin sabbaticus. And, of course, Hebrew Shabbat. From Genesis 2:2-3. On the seventh day God rested after creating the universe. Described in Leviticus 25 as a commandment to cease working in the field the seventh year, reiterated in Deuteronomy 5:12-15.”
“You have your numbers down,” McCauley observed.
“Chalk it up to my share of sabbaticals,” Eccleston laughed.
Katrina chimed in, “We live for them, too.”
Once the wine was served, Eccleston proposed a simple toast. “To our finding the answers we seek.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Quinn reached for the bottle to see what it was. “Verdicchio?”
“Yes, I think you’ll like this,” he said.
The priest held up his glass to the lamp light and examined its luster. “So beautiful. From a magnificent yellow-green grape. See how the final product embraces and expands upon the original hues. Much like our conversation tonight.”
His guests examined it in the same way.
“Now, take in the floral aroma.”
They brought their wine glasses to their nose and acknowledged the scent.
“This Verdicchio hasn’t changed since the fourteenth century. It’s from Le Marche region, still produced by Brothers at Verdicchio del Castelli di Jesi.”
“Quite a tradition, Father,” Alpert said. “I really like this.”
“I’ll tell you someone who enjoyed the Verdicchio in Le Marche.”
The priest captivated Katrina. “Oh?”
“Galileo Galilei.”
“When?” McCauley asked.
“In the early 1600s he came to Le Marche to do experiments on a new invention—the thermometer.” Father Eccleston exhaled deeply.
“The thermoscope,” Alpert remarked.
“Quite right, Dr. Alpert. You’ve studied Galileo?”
“Some. I knew he was credited with its development along with the telescope.”
Eccleston nodded. “All and more. But there’s probably something else you don’t know. The section of Le Marche where Galileo experimented with his early thermometer is known for something other than wine.”
The priest set down his wine glass. “A year before Galileo traveled to Le Marche, Giordano Bruno, a dissident thinker, was convicted of heresy by the Holy Office. He was burned at the stake. The Pope, or those who spoke for him, put reason and science on the opposing side of the religious scale that was completely weighted in the church’s favor. Authority gave them that ability. Ability equaled right. Right equaled power. It wasn’t merely so-called radicals like Bruno who came under scrutiny of the Holy See. It was anyone whose views challenged conventional wisdom, or as history has shown us, conventional myopia.
“Galileo confronted church doctrine, though for a time he had actually worked under Papal sponsorship. He was even honored by mathematicians at Collegio Romano.”
“Mathematics,” McCauley commented. “I forgot that was his principal field of study. We all think it was astronomy.”
“Related. Inter-related,” Eccleston said. “The basis for everything.”
Eccleston’s answer reminded him of the next piece of the puzzle he wanted to discuss with the priest. Soon, he thought.
“When Galileo published his Letters on Sunspots, which offered his theory that the sun rotated on its own axis, Dominican Friar Niccolo Lorini of Florence attacked him. Lorini was a professor of ecclesiastic history. And if you think you could have spoken freely in his classes, you would have done so at your own peril.
“Galileo countered, offering his views concerning the relationship between science and Scripture. Not a particularly church-friendly idea,” Father Eccleston noted. “Lorini filed a complaint with the Roman Inquisition. He took issue with Galileo’s disregard of Ptolemy’s theory of the solar system which held that the earth was the center of all celestial bodies. This was the geocentric model and it fit into the strict biblical teachings. Galileo’s disregard of prevailing beliefs undermined church authority.”
“And led to his Inquisition,” Katrina observed.
“Certainly contributed to it,” the priest confirmed. “Research shows that Galileo’s stubbornness and ego didn’t help either. But it was an age of transition. It took radicals and radical ideas to move the needle, as it were. And Catholic scientists were the ones doing it. In fact, Copernicus, himself a clergyman, had developed his own interpretation that was in conflict with Ptolemy. Some right, some wrong. He set the sun as the focal point, with the earth and other planets in circular orbits. Where Galileo got into further trouble was when he neither accepted nor rejected all of Copernican theory, and as a result, was again criticized for not embracing geocentrism.
“When he pushed, and I mean pushed heliocentrism on society and the church, he raised the most ire. This thinking placed our solar system within a larger universe, with the earth and the other planets traveling around the sun in elliptical orbits. It was as far from biblical interpretation as imaginable, thus controversial and ultimately heretical.”
“And the reason for his excommunication,” Katrina added.
“He was never excommunicated. As a religious man, he feared he might be. It was possibly one of the reasons he recanted before the Inquisition. But who knows. Anyway, we’re skipping some of the history. In 1616, the situation worsened for Galileo. A powerful cardinal named Bellarmine issued a decree that expressly prohibited teaching, discussing, writing or defending Copernican theory. Galileo thought he had tiptoed around the strictures of the edict in writing his Discourse on Comets and The Assayer. He had not. His publications further fanned the flames of the Inquisition fires.
“Seven years later, he was granted six audiences with newly elected Pope Urban VIII. The Holy See declared that Galileo could discuss Copernican theory as long as he presented it solely as theory.”
“Like evolution,” McCauley noted somewhat uncomfortably before the priest. “Everything old is new again. But what does all this have to do with Gap Theory?”
“I’m coming around to that,” Eccleston said. “Galileo continued to explore science as he s
aw it, but not as indiscreetly as the Vatican wanted. He wrote a new work as a conversation, a debate. He called it Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems. Not a good idea on his part. The Pope banned its distribution.
“According to Papal history, this is what ultimately led to Galileo being summoned to appear before the Roman Inquisition.”
Eccleston became more intent in his account. His eyes took on a glow. “However, it’s been rumored there was another essay written by Galileo Galilei thirty years earlier. This work was given to Pope Paul V who, after reading it, ordered it destroyed. Rumors mind you, but who’s to say?”
“About?”
“No one knows, but there are whispers to this day that it was so controversial, so explosive that it threatened the very fabric of the Church and its history.”
Alpert and McCauley instinctively moved closer.
“In late 1632, Galileo was summoned to appear before the Inquisition. A few months later a very sick Galileo traveled to Rome for his trial. A particularly malicious opponent, Father Vincenzo Maculano da Firenzuola, utterly broke him down in the formal tribunal and again, according to whispers, in private conversations. We only have the record of some encounters, not all.”
The ticking of the kitchen clock a room away was the only sound for the next few moments.
“Father Eccleston, you started a thought, but didn’t complete it before,” Katrina recalled. “Something else Le Marche is known for?”
“Oh, yes. Perhaps a vital detail, not to be overlooked.” The priest smiled. “Le Marche is famous for its caves.”
As the words settled in, McCauley’s enthusiasm grew more. “Can we…”
“Ah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Eccleston cautioned. “Tomorrow we’ll delve into the Vatican Secret Archives. I’ve done extensive research, but never in relation to Le Marche. Perhaps there’s something in Galileo’s own hand. We can also see about dear Fr. Emilianov.”
“And if there isn’t anything?” Katrina aptly followed up. “Then what?”
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