The Omega scroll

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jerusalem

B y the time Giovanni paid the cab fare the sun was setting over the Old City’s ramparts. Saint Joseph’s, the convent of the Sisters of Charity and home of the Catholic Bishop in Jerusalem, Bishop Patrick O’Hara, was in the Christian Quarter Road, not far from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which had been built over the site of Christ’s crucifixion. The narrow two-storey building was crammed between two shops and the flagstone street was still jammed with tourists looking for souvenirs. The rusty gate creaked in protest as Giovanni pushed it open. The white steps leading up to the front door were chipped and the windows were shuttered with broken wooden slats, paint peeling from the iron security bars. One of the Sisters opened the old door in answer to Giovanni’s pull on a weathered piece of rope.

‘Welcome, Father, I’m Sister Katherine.’ Sister Katherine was short with a cheerful, plump face, grey hair caught up in a bun and a habit that looked as if it had seen better days.

‘Thank you, Sister. Giovanni Donelli,’ he replied, shaking her outstretched hand.

‘Let me take your bag, Father,’ she said, reaching for his suitcase. Giovanni resisted unsuccessfully and followed her up another narrow flight of stairs.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she said, showing him into a large room overlooking the street. ‘I’ll put your bag in your room and let Bishop O’Hara know you’ve arrived.’

Giovanni sat down in one of the big overstuffed chairs and looked around him. The walls were lined with bookcases that stretched to the ceiling. Works of Augustine juxtaposed with those of the later theologians: Barth, Bultmann, Niebuhr, Schleiermacher and Rahner. Surprisingly, there was also considerable space devoted to the three men condemned by the Vatican for their awkward questioning of accepted Church doctrine: Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Schillebeeckx and, perhaps the greatest living theologian of all, Hans Kung. There also seemed to be a copy of every book that had ever been written on the famed Dead Sea Scrolls: Hershel Shanks, Geza Vermes, Edmund Wilson – all the great scholars of the Scrolls. Even the controversial Australian author Barbara Thiering. Giovanni’s thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice from the doorway.

‘I hope it was a pleasant trip you’ve been having, Father?’ Nearly twelve years in the Middle East and six years before that spent in Washington had not diminished Bishop O’Hara’s lyrical Irish brogue. He was a big man with thinning hair, bushy grey eyebrows, a round, ruddy face and gentle green eyes. Patrick O’Hara’s sizeable stomach reflected a passion for good food and wine, and his greeting was full of warmth.

‘Yes thank you, Excellency, although security at Tel-Aviv seemed a little excessive,’ Giovanni replied honestly.

‘Welcome to the Promised Land. And please, it’s Patrick. You can call me Excellency when the Vatican’s coming to visit, which thankfully is not very often.’

‘I’ll try and get used to that,’ Giovanni replied, warming to his larger than life superior.

‘And I think you’d better be reserving judgement on being here until you see where I’m sending you,’ the Bishop replied. ‘A little town called Mar’Oth, about 25 kilometres from here, but it might as well be a thousand. The town is Palestinian, divided by both a road and a religion. On one side of the road the village folk are Palestinian Christians, our lot, and they’ve not had a priest there for many years. On the other side of the road they’re Palestinian Muslims. There’s only one school and the children from both sides of the road attend it. Diplomacy is in far greater demand here than theology, Giovanni.’ He shuffled over to a well-stocked sideboard. ‘Part of the sanity routine here.’ His green eyes danced as he passed Giovanni a large glass of Irish whiskey. ‘Shalom!’

‘Shalom.’ Giovanni raised his glass. He did not often drink whiskey but he had a feeling that whenever Bishop O’Hara was around he would get used to it, regardless of the time of day.

‘Strange, isn’t it.’ Patrick settled his vast bulk into one of the other overstuffed chairs. ‘A toast of peace in a country that is continually at war.’

‘Do you think there will ever be peace in this country?’

‘Not until they come to their senses and reach an agreement with the Palestinians.’

‘Is that likely?’

‘There are many on both sides who are longing for just that, and an end to the cycle of violence. Sometimes there’s a glimmer of hope and then just as quickly the hope is dashed. Usually on the egos of inept, incompetent and corrupt politicians, aided and abetted by a culture of fanaticism that is as misguided as it is intense.’

‘I suppose the clash of religions doesn’t help,’ Giovanni mused, a newcomer to Middle East politics and intrigue.

‘A lot of people see Islam as a violent religion, when in fact it’s just the opposite. Islam means “surrender” and a Muslim is one who surrenders completely to Allah and observes Allah’s requirement that people behave towards one another with justice and compassion. The fundamentalist Muslims don’t represent the true Islam, any more than the Jerry Buffetts of this world represent the true Christianity.’

‘Unfortunately a lot of people believe the fundamentalists’ view that there should only be one religion – theirs,’ Giovanni observed ruefully.

‘It is an interesting question, isn’t it. What sort of perverse God would create human beings whose search for meaning in religion generates so much intolerance towards one another?’

Giovanni was a little taken aback. It was unusual for a bishop to refer to God as perverse.

‘You’re looking surprised, Giovanni.’

‘I am a little,’ Giovanni admitted.

‘Don’t be. When you get to my age you tend to question a great deal.’

‘Your faith?’

‘Especially my faith. Have you been reading any of Teilhard de Chardin?’

‘I thought the Vatican had banned his work, although I couldn’t help noticing you have several of his books.’

‘Cardinal Petroni and his ilk wouldn’t be amused,’ Patrick replied darkly. ‘But as there’s as much likelihood of him coming to Jerusalem as there is an agreement on peace, I think I’m pretty safe,’ he chuckled, his humour returning as he got out of his chair and moved to fossick through the shelves, returning with a much-thumbed book and an equally dog-eared Journal of Mathematics.

‘ Comment Je Crois – How I Believe,’ he said, handing Giovanni the book. ‘It’s in French but I gather you speak that language fluently, along with English, German, Spanish and Latin?’

‘Someone has kept you informed,’ Giovanni said with a grin.

‘Oddly enough it was the Vatican. They’re not renowned for including us peasants in their debates but they did send me your biographical notes.’ Patrick poured himself another whiskey. ‘Chardin was a very interesting man. After he was ordained as a Jesuit priest, he served in WWI as a stretcher bearer. Among other things he won the Military Medal and the Legion of Honour. Like you, he was also a scientist.’

‘It is sometimes difficult being a priest and a scientist. There are times when I wish I was one or the other, not both.’

‘Chardin would agree with you, but he also had the courage to disagree with the Vatican, which got right up their Eminences’ nostrils and they did what they always do.’

Giovanni nodded. ‘Excommunication.’

‘It is their standard response to anyone with the intellect and temerity to question their power base. Anyway, you may have both of these,’ he said. ‘The second one is a paper by the Israeli archaeologist and mathematician Yossi Kaufmann. He’s convinced there are codes in the Dead Sea Scrolls that contain a warning. Have you heard of the Omega Scroll?’

Giovanni felt a chill and nodded, measuring his response. His instinct was to trust this bishop of the people, but it was too soon to divulge what he knew. ‘It’s had quite a bit of press from time to time but I thought it was mostly speculation,’ he replied carefully.

Bishop O’Hara shook his head. ‘Yossi Kaufmann doesn’t think so. Yossi’s a man of many contacts, quite a few of whom reside in the back alleys of this Holy City. Not only is he convinced it exists, he thinks the Vatican bought a copy of it in 1978, and he’s equally certain the original is still out there, but you can ask him yourself. You’ll need to come back here once a month or so, more frequently if I have the need of company,’ Patrick added. ‘I’ll arrange for you to meet him over dinner. Sister Katherine is an excellent cook.’

It was after ten before Giovanni managed to escape to his room. He propped himself up in bed and turned to Yossi Kaufmann’s paper published in The Journal of Mathematics. As another distinguished Israeli, Dr Eliyahu Rips, was doing with the Torah, Professor Kaufmann had applied a computerised analysis to the Hebrew and Aramaic of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and he had discovered a similar problem to Rips. Words like ‘terror’ and ‘end of days’ were found by the program, but Kaufmann had been unable to determine what the hidden warning was. Professor Kaufmann’s paper had been written for a professional audience but Giovanni grasped the underlying permutations and progression theorems with ease. He blinked at Kaufmann’s conclusion. The codes that were in the Dead Sea Scrolls all pointed to the message being found in a particular scroll, the Omega Scroll. The words ‘revelation’ and ‘end of mankind’ kept coming up.

Overtired, Giovanni couldn’t sleep so he flicked the bedside lamp back on and reached for Teilhard de Chardin’s banned Comment Je Crois . Chardin had a gift for writing and the French came easily, and when Giovanni next checked his watch it was two in the morning. Reluctantly he closed the book and turned out the light. No wonder the Vatican had banned Teilhard de Chardin. The great French theologian and scientist had dared to suggest that God was not some all-powerful and vengeful Being, but a spiritual force within creation itself; in the rivers, mountains, mists, elephants, microbes and within every human being. For Chardin, God was not the God of Wrath of the Church but rather the ‘spirit within’, and he was daring to challenge the Cardinals’ powerful claim that God could only be reached through the priests of the Church.

Giovanni finally fell into an uneasy sleep. Chardin had left an indelible mark on Giovanni, colouring his approach to his faith and helping him in his never-ending search for true meaning.

The Spirit smiled as revelation dawned.