Skeleton 03 - The Constantine Codex (13 page)

Read Skeleton 03 - The Constantine Codex Online

Authors: Paul L Maier

Tags: #Retail

He picked up the
Herald Tribune
’s version of the story. It was on the lower half of the front page.

WORLD ISLAMIC LEADER CHALLENGES HARVARD PROFESSOR TO DEBATE

 

Cairo (AP)—Dr. Abbas al-Rashid, regarded by most Muslims as the leading theologian in Islam, has challenged Jonathan P. Weber, well-known professor of Near Eastern studies at Harvard University, to a public debate on the topic “Christianity or Islam—Which Is More Credible?”

Al-Rashid is the grand sheikh or imam at al-Azhar University in Cairo, a much-published author of books on Islam, especially his widely read
Muhammad—A Life Blessed by Allah
. “He is preeminent in Sunni Islam,” commented Haroun Nasir, president of the Islamic Council of New York. “I have no doubts whatever that he will win this debate.”

Weber is the Reginald R. Dillon Professor of Near Eastern Studies at Harvard University, the founder of the Institute of Christian Origins in Cambridge, and a bestselling author of books on early Christianity. His
Jesus of Nazareth
, published several years ago, is in its thirty-second printing in the American edition, with twenty-nine foreign translations. One of these, the Arabic edition published several weeks ago in Cairo, contained an error in translation that brought him to the attention of the Islamic world, although the error has since been corrected.

No summitlike debate between Christianity and Islam has taken place for twelve centuries. The last such was in the year 781, when Timothy I, Patriarch of the Assyrian Christian Church, held a celebrated debate with the third caliph of the Abbasid dynasty, Muhammad ibn Mansur al-Mahdi.

In an interview today in Cairo, Dr. al-Rashid stated, “I must apologize to Professor Weber that I was unable to reach him first with a personal invitation to such a debate. This news is therefore premature, the mistake of a press secretary at our university, who has since been disciplined. I do, however, welcome the possibility of debating Professor Weber, for whom I have great admiration.”

Dr. Weber could not be reached for comment. At present his whereabouts are unknown, although reliable sources place him in Greece. The Associated Press promises full coverage of such a debate should it occur, especially in view of its controversial topic.

Jon put the paper down and stared vacantly across the room. He finally said, “This is hard to believe, Shannon. Here we thought al-Rashid was our
friend
. He gave that wonderful commencement address in Cairo. It helped take the fatwa off my head. Oh, oh, I forgot; the fatwa’s still there but harmless.”

“You hope,” she replied. “Maybe he still is our friend. Notice that he admires you.”

Jon nodded. Then he quickly scanned the other newspaper reports. Essentially they had the same story, though with different local commentary on the merits of the potential opponents.

The phone rang. Marylou Kaiser and Richard Ferris were calling from adjoining phones in Jon’s office at Harvard. Their relief in finally getting through to “the boss” was palpable. They gave a lengthy rundown on the U.S. reaction to the debate challenge, which consumed at least twenty minutes’ worth of transatlantic phone charges. At the close, Jon said, “Yes, we’ll have to fly back. I can’t tell you how much I hate to interrupt what we’re doing since we’re really on to something here.” He swept the papers aside in frustration and sat on the edge of the bed. Raking his fingers through his hair, he forced himself to calm down and focus on the matter at hand. “But let’s convene a meeting of the ICO executive committee for this coming Monday. Of course Osman al-Ghazali needs to be there too. Can you set everything up?” The two easily agreed. “Great! See you soon, then.”

When he had hung up, Shannon commented, “I guess that means you
will
accept the debate, then?”

“Is the pope Catholic, Shannon?”

“And that our great little tour of Greece is over?”

“We’ll be back, my darling. And that’s a promise.”

The manager at Hertz Rent-a-Car in Thessalonica grew apoplectic when Jon informed him that they would be unable to drive the car back to Athens, as they had agreed, since they had to fly home directly from Thessalonica. Why were Mediterranean types so excitable? he wondered. He could have fibbed that his mother was dying, so they
had
to get back, but his Lutheran conscience wouldn’t permit it. A couple of American fifties laid on the counter took care of everything instead.

Olympic Air flights from Thessalonica to Athens, then Athens to New York, and finally the Delta shuttle to Logan in Boston, and they were back in Cambridge. Large, dark sunglasses seemed to protect them from the press at the three airports, where they carefully avoided anyone carrying a camera or a nosy cell phone–cum–camera. Lately, though, that seemed to be every other person on earth.

Sunday back in Weston was devoted to unpacking and jet lag recovery. Incredibly the FBI was still keeping their house under surveillance. The government was nothing if not persistent. The phone kept ringing, but caller ID enabled them to answer only the most important calls, mostly from relatives and close friends.

Early Monday morning, Jon stopped at his Harvard office to check the mail, ignoring the almost-continuous ringing of his office phone. Among his letters was an elegant envelope from Cairo that turned out to contain al-Rashid’s invitation to debate. It was in English, not Arabic, very proper, nicely worded, and almost friendly. To Jon, this only compounded the mystery of his challenge.

Then he hurried over to Brattle Street off of Harvard Square, where his think tank was assembling in the board room of the Institute of Christian Origins. Unfortunately the media had put two and two together over the past several days and had the ICO under surveillance. When Jon appeared, they thronged around him until Cambridge police cleared his way. He was bombarded with questions, mostly variations on the same theme: would he accept the challenge to debate or not? Finally he held up his hands for quiet and announced simply, “We’ll have a press release for you this afternoon.” Then he ducked inside.

Osman al-Ghazali was already sitting at the board table, Jon was relieved to see, since his advice regarding the debate would be crucial. Osman was half a head shorter than Jon but likely weighed more. The man had a bald pate that somehow failed to detract from his appearance. He made no attempt to cover it by combing long remaining strands of thinning hair across his bare dome, as happened so often, but kept his remaining dark thatch well trimmed along the sides. His velvet brown eyes always seemed to have a playful quality, and his classes at Harvard were packed, thanks to his excellent communication skills.

Since al-Rashid had supplied his e-mail address in the letter of invitation and had even suggested that they use the electronic medium to facilitate arrangements, Jon opened the meeting by reading the e-mail he proposed to send to Cairo:

 

“Dear Dr. al-Rashid:

Thank you for the honor of your invitation to debate the topic ‘Christianity or Islam—Which Is More Credible?’ I am pleased to accept. Perhaps we might first decide issues of time and place for the debate, then draw up mutually agreeable guidelines for our discussion.

I would also like to thank you for the remarkable address you delivered at the commencement of al-Azhar University this past June, not only because you were kind enough to give me favorable mention, but also in view of your splendid championing of academic freedom in the cause of truth. Yours is a most welcome voice in the Muslim world.”

“Well, my colleagues, what do you think?” Jon asked.

Heads nodded in approval, until al-Ghazali commented, “What do you want to send there, Jon, a love letter? This man wants to trounce you in a debate!”

Jon was taken aback. “Are you serious, Osman?”

“No, I guess not,” he said, smiling. “I’m just a little ticked that he went public before reaching you.”

“He claims it was someone else’s error. That sort of thing can happen, Osman, right—the ‘error’ bit?”

Al-Ghazali threw his arms up and chuckled. “
Touché
!
I plead guilty!”

“Okay, then. Marylou, please send this to Cairo. The e-mail address is on al-Rashid’s letterhead.”

“Done.”

Jon turned to al-Ghazali again. “Now, please tell us, Osman, why in the world would al-Rashid issue this debate challenge? We all thought he was progressive, a Muslim moderate who was anything but doctrinaire.”

“Simply because that’s exactly what al-Rashid is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard from my contacts in Cairo that he got a tremendous amount of flak after that address you raved about—and it
was
worth raving about, believe me! But some archconservative mullahs started scheming to have him replaced. He learned of it, and in a steamy faculty meeting, he announced, ‘It is easily possible to be faithful both to Islam
and
the cause of academic freedom!’

“That led to more hot debate, until one of their reactionaries, who inclines a bit to the right of Genghis Khan, yelled out, ‘Prove it, then! Prove that you are indeed faithful to Islam by taking on that Christian professor from Harvard in debate!’”

“But why
me
, for goodness’ sake?”

“Glad you asked,” Osman said with a twinkle. “Whether or not you know it, Jon, you are big in the Arab world,
big
—thanks to that innocent mistake in the Arabic edition that seems to have catapulted you into stardom!”

“Can’t be.”

“Remember those Christian versus Muslim discussions you had Marylou ask me to monitor after you spoke to her from Meteora?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they’re starting also in the Muslim world. Not Christian-Muslim debates so much as Muslim-Muslim discussions on some of the issues you raised in your book. Al-Rashid simply had to put his money where his mouth was.”

Marylou was staring at her laptop when she suddenly raised her hand. “Sorry to interrupt you all, but a return e-mail has just arrived from Cairo.”

“Please plug your laptop into the projector so we can all read it at the same time, Marylou.”

When the screen at the far end of the conference table lowered from the ceiling, they read the following message:

 

Dear Professor Weber:

Again I apologize for the premature announcement of our possible debate, and I thank you for accepting. I am certain that you and I can discuss the topic without the high emotion that often characterizes such exchanges, and the result might even benefit Muslim-Christian relations.

I would suggest that we consider the event for sometime within the next two or three months. As to place, we would be happy to invite you here to al-Azhar University. I am sure that the Coptic Christian population in Cairo would be glad to welcome you here as well. We are, of course, open to other locations.

Yours truly,

Abbas al-Rashid

“How come his English is so good, Osman?”

“Who knows? He could have used someone from the American University in Cairo.”

“Well, team, what’s your opinion? Is Cairo a good location?”

“I’d prefer New York,” Richard Ferris said, half-joking. Then he added, “No, I think it’s a very
bad
location, Jon—bad for your health. Not the climate, but the security situation. Cairo’s the home of the Muslim Brotherhood—many of them jihadists—and of al-Gama’a al-Islamiyyah, the people who assassinated Anwar Sadat. And when you win the debate, they could even take it out on the Copts. Not a season goes by in Egypt without some Christian church getting burned. Plus, it would be al-Rashid’s home ballpark.”

“You seem a little optimistic about the outcome of the debate, Dick.”

He laughed. “Is there any question?”

“You bet there is!” Jon glanced out the windows and saw an even larger media crowd outside. “Uh-oh, time to throw them a fish. Marylou, let’s work up a press release that says I not only accept but look forward to the debate, since al-Rashid will be an excellent opponent, and that it will take place within the next three months at a location still to be determined. Okay?”

“Got it.”

“Then bring it back here and we’ll check it out.”

Other books

Pharmakon by Dirk Wittenborn
0764214101 by Tracie Peterson
Who I'm Not by Ted Staunton
Where Rainbows End by Cecelia Ahern
Behind His Back by Stranges, Sadie
Magic by Tami Hoag
Amazon Moon by James A. Haught