The Sixth Station(113)
Two Swiss Guards who were standing watch saluted us and parted the gates like Moses at the Red Sea. Inside those gates was a spectacular garden complete with helicopter pad and shiny Pope-a-copter sitting idle but ever ready for Christ’s representative of the earth’s poor and downtrodden to hop aboard. The garden was blooming, despite how early in spring it was, with roses and every imaginable flower God ever dreamed of and more. There were mini-mazes, contemplation benches, and little chapels for private prayer.
We sat on a bench—and I was surprised that we were totally alone in this magnificent place in the center of the Vatican grounds. I took out my notebook.
“This is the pope’s private garden. He loves to sit here and read, pray, and contemplate.”
“Well, if ever there were a place for contemplation, this is definitely it.”
“Yes, I love it here. But tell me, what do you want to know of the Holy Face?”
I was relieved to see that he didn’t connect the crazy redheaded rocker chick named Roussel with the brunette reporter in NYC named Russo—the one who was kissed by ben Yusef and had become a worldwide sensation/disgrace.
I continued lying: “I was told that you are the foremost expert in the Veil of Veronica, which I understand is kept right here in the Vatican.”
I was baiting him. He knew it, I’m sure.
“I guess you have not read the book then?”
“Not fully.” He looked annoyed, as well he might be considering I got him in the middle of work and hadn’t even bothered to read the book.
“We didn’t actually know about it, and when I discovered The Face of God this morning on the Internet, I thought I’d better meet the author slash expert before I left Rome.”
“Where would you like to start, and what time is your flight?”
“Ah, in three hours.”
“I see.”
“Can you show me the Veil?”
“Can I show you the Volto Santo?” he repeated incredulously. With that he rose and said, “It took me one year—using every bit of influence I had—to get permission to see it once.
“But I can show you the location of the Vatican’s relics. Yes, there is a relic of the Holy Face here, but…”
“But?”
“But there are at least six images purported to be the real relic. The real Veil.”
We began walking toward the same gate from which we had entered. The day was warm and clear, and we moved at a good pace, walking toward Saint Peter’s Square.
“Six images. I’m astounded to hear this. But the one that’s here is the actual Veil of Veronica—correct?”
Again, he laughed. “Real? Yes, perhaps if you believe the legend. Which I don’t.”
“What?” We were walking along the back cobblestone streets, which I’d never seen before despite having been to the Vatican many times as a tourist and also when I covered the election of Pope Benedict. Ancient residences lined the streets and were still occupied and hauntingly beautiful.
“I thought you were an expert on the Veil, and yet you call it a ‘legend’? You are not a true believer?”
He stopped and looked at me. He was not just startled but almost aghast. “True believer? There is no truer believer!”
“Oh. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. But frankly, I’m confused.”
We turned a corner, and Saint Peter’s came into full view. It still had the ability to take my breath away.
“As I said, there are at least six ‘true’ Veronicas or at least ‘authentic’ copies of the true image. But there is only one authentic Volto Santo. I believe they are not one and the same, nor do I believe in the legend associated with it.”
“Are you saying there was no Saint Veronica?”
“No, but I am saying that even her name, Veronica, is a myth. The very name means ‘true image’ or ‘true icon,’ in reference to religious works.”
“Of course!” Bingo.
As we walked around the cathedral, he continued: “In the Acts of Pilate there appears a report allegedly made by Pontius Pilate to Claudius. It is an anti-Semitic description of the Crucifixion, and an account of the resurrection of Jesus; both are presented as if they are official reports.
“A series of Latin manuscripts, Cura Sanitatis Tiberii or ‘The Cure of Tiberius,’ is the first time that the Veronica legend is mentioned anywhere. It states that the Veil cured Emperor Tiberius of some sort of malady. The interesting thing here is that the real Veil is made of a fabric called ‘byssus,’ made from the hair, if you will, of mollusks, those long filaments that protrude from mussels.”