The Order (Gabriel Allon #20) - Daniel Silva Page 0,53

myself,” confessed Donati.

“Did you see him?”

“No.”

“That’s because he was never there.”

“Where was he?”

“Most of the Church Fathers believed he committed suicide not long after his return to Rome. But Origen, the early Church’s first great theologian and philosopher, was convinced that Pilate had been allowed to live out the remainder of his life in peace. On this matter, at least, I side with Origen. That said, I suspect we might disagree over how Pilate spent his retirement.”

“You believe he wrote?”

“No, Luigi. I know that Pontius Pilate wrote a detailed memoir of his tumultuous years as prefect of the Roman province of Judea, including his role in the most portentous execution in human history.” Father Jordan tapped the plastic-covered page. “And it was used as the source material for the pseudepigraphic gospel that bears his name.”

“Who was the real author?”

“If I were to hazard a guess, he was a highly educated Roman, fluent in Latin and Greek, with a deep knowledge of Jewish history and the Laws of Moses.”

“Was he a gentile or a Jew?”

“Probably a gentile. But what’s important is that he was a deeply committed Christian.”

“Are you suggesting that Pilate became a Christian as well?”

“Pilate? Heavens no. That’s apocryphal nonsense. I have no doubt he remained a pagan until his dying breath. The Gospel of Pilate is a work of history rather than faith. Unlike the authors of the canonical Gospels, Pilate had seen Jesus with his own eyes. He knew what he looked like, how he spoke. More important, he knew exactly why Jesus was put to death. After all, he was the one who sent him to the cross.”

“Why did he write about it?” asked Gabriel.

“A good question, Mr. Allon. Why does any public servant or political figure write about his role in an important event?”

“To make money,” quipped Gabriel.

“Not in the first century.” Father Jordan smiled. “Besides, Pilate had no need of money. He had used his position as prefect to enrich himself.”

“In that case,” said Gabriel, “I suppose he would have wanted to tell his side of the story.”

“Correct,” said Father Jordan. “Remember, Pilate was only a few years older than Jesus. If he had lived for fifteen years after the Crucifixion, he would have known that the followers of the man he executed in Jerusalem were in the early stages of forming a new religion. Had he lived to the age of seventy, not unheard of in the first century, he would have been hard pressed not to notice the flourishing early Church in Rome itself.”

“When do you think Pilate wrote his account?” asked Donati.

“That’s impossible to know. But I believe the book that became known as the Gospel of Pilate was written at approximately the same time as Mark.”

“Would the author of Mark have known of its existence?”

“Possibly. It’s also possible that the author of the Gospel of Pilate knew of Mark’s existence. But the more relevant question is, why was Mark canonized and the Gospel of Pilate ruthlessly suppressed?”

“And the answer?”

“Because the Gospel of Pilate offers a completely different account of Jesus’ final days in Jerusalem, one that contradicts Church doctrine and dogma.” Father Jordan paused. “Now ask the next obvious question, Luigi.”

“If the Gospel of Pilate was suppressed and hunted out of existence by the Church, how do you know about it?”

“Ah, yes,” said Father Jordan. “That’s the truly interesting part of the story.”

29

ABBEY OF ST. PETER, ASSISI

TO TELL THE STORY OF how he had learned of the existence of the Gospel of Pilate, Father Jordan first had to explain how the book was disseminated, and how it was suppressed. It was written for the first time, he said, in the same fashion as the canonical Gospels, on papyrus, though in Latin rather than Greek. He reckoned it was copied and recopied perhaps a hundred times in this fragile, unstable form and that it circulated among the Latin-literate portion of the early Church. Around the dawn of the second millennium it was produced in book form for the first time, almost certainly at a monastery on the Italian peninsula. Like the Acta Pilati, the Gospel of Pilate was read widely during the Renaissance.

“The Acta was translated into several languages and circulated throughout the Christian world. But the Gospel of Pilate was never translated out of its original Latin. Therefore, its readership was far more elite.”

“For example?” asked Donati.

“Artists, intellectuals, noblemen, and the daring priest or monk who was willing to risk Rome’s wrath.”

Before Donati could pose his next question, his phone