“Our paragon example here,” Jon told Shannon, “was the Council of Nicaea in 325, where they decided the greatest issue by a vote of 312 to 2.”
“Not exactly a cliff-hanger.”
“Right. No hanging chads.”
Shannon grew serious and asked, “Jon, tell me true: how do you rate our chances? We hear a lot of threats and saber rattling from the far right, also in the Catholic and Orthodox camps…”
“True. They also have their rigorists who’ve been condemning the council in advance for admitting Protestants. ‘They’re not part of Christ’s true church on earth,’ they scream.”
Shannon started chuckling. “But that claim doesn’t get very far, since that’s the very same thing Catholics say about Orthodox and vice versa.”
“Exactly. I’m more concerned that all the fundamentalists-Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox-are uniting on the slogan Don’t break God’s Word by tearing the Bible open! They seem to be raising a rage with it in the media. It’s catchy, but simplistic and wrongheaded.”
“And yet you and Kevin always seem so upbeat about the possibilities of success.”
“I know. That could be a big mistake, though I do have one reason for hope: the ultras-right or left wing-rarely get elected to leadership posts in their church bodies, and it’s the leaders who are delegates here.”
“Speaking of which, here they come.”
It was quite a sight indeed. Filing into the convention hall were two popes/patriarchs-actually, three, since Coptic Pope Shenouda III was there-a variety of cardinals, archbishops, bishops, metropolitans, archimandrites, abbots, moderators, presbyters, presidents, and other colorful names of Christian magistrates. If their offices had different titles, so did their apparel, which ranged from pure white for the Bishop of Rome and pure black for the Ecumenical Patriarch to every variety of color and style in between, with the African delegates taking the prize for showing every tint in the rainbow. Some of the churchmen were hirsute, others bald by nature or intention. Some were bearded, others clean-shaven.
“I haven’t seen such variety since the UN in New York,” Shannon observed.
“Too bad we’re only observers here, Shannon. Otherwise we could have joined the parade.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He merely grinned.
The Council of Jerusalem did not take on the issue of the Canon until later. First there were some animated preliminaries, since the rare opportunity to solve problems affecting all of Christendom could not be missed. It took an entire week of debate before Roman Catholic and Lutheran bishops admitted that they misnumbered the Ten Commandments and finally abandoned St. Augustine’s mistake in parking the true second commandment against idolatry under the first.
“Remember, Shannon, he was afraid that the ‘You shall make no image or likeness’ commandment would ruin art among Christians as it had among Jews,” Jon commented, “when idolatry was the only issue in play here.”
“I do know my church history, Jon,” she replied, affecting a pout that quickly changed to a grin. “So now Augustine has only nine commandments instead of ten. What does he do? He takes the least offensive commandment-coveting-and cuts into two for nine and ten.”
Jon breathed a sigh of relief. “From now on, the whole Christian world can agree that ‘Don’t kill’ is number six, and ‘No adultery’ is number seven.”
Then another great concession was made-this time from Eastern Orthodoxy. While the Council of Nicaea had agreed that Easter should be celebrated on a day -Sunday-rather than on a date -as in the case of Christmas, Eastern and Western Christendom still rarely celebrated the Festival of the Resurrection together. Why? The Eastern church still used the old Julian calendar, whereas the West adopted the Gregorian ever since 1582. The council agreed on the latter but changed the name to the “Common Calendar,” since Gregory was a Western pope.
“Hard to believe,” Shannon said, “but when to celebrate Easter almost split the early church. Now there’s even talk of making the first Sunday in April the universal time to celebrate the Resurrection.”
Jon nodded. “It’s a really excellent idea, but I think it’s going to be tabled for a future council to decide. They’re hanging on to the rules for when Jews celebrate the Passover.”
And finally the Council of Jerusalem turned to matters canonical. No longer would Jon and Shannon be passive observers.
The debates were long and, at times, impassioned, but they largely stayed on track. Both Shannon and Jon were asked to testify in detail as to their discovery of the Constantine Codex.
Before Shannon stepped up to the dais, she asked him, “Is this really happening, Jon? My addressing the council?”
“History is being made at this very moment, my darling. A woman has never before addressed a church council, and it’s high time.”
“I’m… just a bit nervous.”
“Don’t be, sweetheart. Break a leg! Just be yourself and tell it like it was.”
Shannon did just that. Jon was never more proud of her, as she once again recounted the chain of events that began with the dig at Pella. She was poised, confident, and convincing. Knowing that there were a few misogynists at the council, Jon mused, I’ll bet they’re shocked that a woman could even bring this off.
When it came to his turn, Jon continued the improbable story of the Constantine Codex but never made any recommendations as to its canonicity. He even applauded the Vatican for “discovering” the remains of St. Paul without tying this into the codex. His objectivity was obvious, although everyone could read between the lines.
His testimony was followed by that of Christianity’s most authoritative Greek manuscript scholars. When their opinions were added to the scientific evidence, the debate over the authenticity of the codex concluded rather quickly.
As Jon and Shannon left the convention hall that afternoon, Katie Couric of CBS News buttonholed them and asked, “It looks rather good for opening the Canon, doesn’t it, Professor Weber?”
Jon shook his head. “Authenticity of the codex is one thing, but including the new material in the Canon is quite another.”
“Do you mean that the council, after all this evidence, might still vote against including the last of Mark and Second Acts in the Canon?”
“That’s exactly what they might do.”
The date was July 10. The time was 3 p.m. Every argument on both sides of the issue had been aired. A few church magnates, known to be garrulous, tried to extend debate so that their set speeches would also be included in the official record of the council. That prompted Shannon’s whisper to Jon, “Everything’s been said, but not everyone has said it.”
Jon chuckled, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Oh, oh,” he murmured, “I wonder if that’s ever been done before at an ecumenical council?”
She grinned and tickled his ribs. “Or that either.”
Now, by a vast majority vote, the council voted to end further discussion. All knew what would come next. A hush of silence filled the vast hall. The atmosphere was electric with expectation. Jon and Shannon clutched hands.
His All Holiness Bartholomew II now stood and led the entire council in a solemn prayer, invoking God the Holy Spirit to guide their vote. Then he announced solemnly, “My colleagues in Christ, if it is your sacred conviction that the newly discovered ending to the Gospel of Mark should be regarded as valid by the church and added to the canonical Gospel of Mark after chapter 16, verse 8, then please vote Yes on your keypads. If not, vote No. Please vote… now!”
On a giant computer screen hanging over the dais, the data came on slowly. The first image on the screen gave the statistic: “Of 2,797 votes cast, 2,790 are valid.”
“Why’s that?” Shannon asked Jon, in a whisper. “What about the other seven?”