I wish desperately that Simon could be here. I wish he could see whatever I’m about to see. Lucio gambled everything on tonight as if it were Simon’s only hope. Now it hums all around me: that hope was not misplaced.
A voice speaks up. Archbishop Nowak, standing near the front of the chapel, talking for our poor mute pope.
“Tonight,” he says, “we have witnessed the remarkable texts that document the history of the Holy Shroud. And we return, as always, to one text above all. The sacred cloth bears a profound resemblance to the gospel accounts of our Lord’s passion and death. The Holy Father has said Christianity must breathe again with two lungs—East and West, Orthodox and Catholic—and here lies Christ before us, wounded by a spear between the ribs. This spear wound was caused by a Roman soldier, as if in anticipation of those Catholic knights who would one day steal this Shroud from Constantinople.
“The Fourth Crusade is a stain on the Christian Church. The Holy Father has apologized for it, and has expressed the everlasting shame of Catholics for our role in it. Yet tonight he has asked me to read aloud to everyone present in this chapel—especially his fellow patriarchs, first among them His All Holiness, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew—
a new and special message.”
In amazement I stand on my toes and try to see the men he’s referring to. The words are almost impossible to believe.
His fellow patriarchs.
First among them His All Holiness.
I knew Simon had invited the Patriarch of Romania here. But far above him in the ancient hierarchy of patriarchs is His All Holiness, the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, who ranks second only to the pope. This is beyond what I thought even Simon was capable of.
Nowak opens a formidable-looking document. It appears to be sealed in red wax. He reads: “Dear brothers and sisters, as you know, the Holy Shroud has been venerated in Catholic churches for many centuries. Yet until two decades ago, it was owned by the Italian royal family. Only upon the death of the former king, early in my pontificate, was the Holy Shroud bequeathed to the Holy See. I do not mention this to lessen the complicity of the Catholic Church in the sins of 1204. I mention it because of a particular detail in the last testament of King Umberto. That document, rather than bequeathing the Shroud to the archdiocese of Turin or to the Catholic Church, bequeaths it to the person of the Supreme Pontiff. Which is to say, His Royal Highness gave the Holy Shroud to me.
“As pope, I have full, supreme, and universal power over all parts of our Church, so my fellow Catholics may see no need for the distinction I have just made. Yet one of the differences separating us from our treasured Orthodox guests is that the Orthodox Church does not accept the jurisdiction of the pope over his brother-bishops. So I wish to make it clear that, in saying what I am about to say, I am not forcing my will upon other bishops who must obey what I demand.
“Tonight’s exhibit has established that the relic known in the West as the Shroud of Turin was in fact stolen by Latin crusaders in 1204. Therefore tonight, in the year of the eight-hundredth anniversary of that trespass, I acknowledge this theft, and hereby restore the Holy Shroud to its rightful caretaker, the Orthodox Church.”
There is dead silence in the chapel. Cardinal Boia, in the second row of chairs, shifts in his seat. But it’s another cardinal who stands. The eyes of Christendom fall on Cardinal Poletto, Archbishop of Turin.
Soundlessly, Poletto turns toward the Orthodox. He raises his hands in the air. Then he begins to clap.
Everyone stares in disbelief. But I understand what he’s doing. I stand and begin clapping, too. I am followed by a Turkish bishop. And finally the dam breaks. Laymen begin clapping. Archbishops. The sound reverberates off the walls. John Paul lifts a trembling hand to cover his ear.
“Please,” Nowak says, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. “The Holy Father has asked me to read you one last message.”