The Shroud Codex - Jerome R. Corsi [111]
“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 treatment.”
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