“Is the scene in Matthew’s Gospel a lie?”

“The author of Matthew would tell you that he wrote the story as he had heard it himself and as he believed it to be. That said, there is no doubt that his Gospel, like Mark’s, shifted the blame for Jesus’ death from the Romans to the Jews.”

“Why?”

“Because within a few short years of the Crucifixion, the Jesus movement was in grave danger of being reabsorbed by Judaism. If there was a future, it lay with the gentiles living under Roman rule. The evangelists and the Church Fathers had to make the new faith acceptable to the Empire. There was nothing they could do to change the fact that Jesus died a Roman death at the hands of Roman troops. But if they could suggest that the Jews had forced Pilate’s hand …”

“Problem solved.”

Donati nodded. “And I’m afraid it gets worse in the later Gospels. Luke suggests it was the Jews rather than the Romans who nailed Jesus to the cross. John makes the accusation straight out. It is inconceivable to me that Jews would crucify one of their own. They might well have stoned Jesus for blasphemy. But the cross? Not a chance.”

“Then why was the passage included in the Christian canon?”

“It is important to remember that the Gospels were never intended to be factual records. They were theology, not history. They were evangelizing documents that laid the foundation of a new faith, a faith that by the end of the first century was in sharp conflict with the one from which it had sprung. Three centuries later, when the bishops of the early Church convened the Synod of Hippo, there were many different gospels and other texts circulating among the Christian communities of North Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean. The bishops canonized only four, knowing full well they contained numerous discrepancies and inconsistencies. For example, all the canonical Gospels give a slightly different account of the three days leading up to Jesus’ execution.”

“Did the bishops also know they were planting the seeds for two thousand years of Jewish suffering?”

“A fair question.”

“What’s the answer?”

“By the end of the fourth century, the die had been cast. The refusal of the Jews to accept Jesus as their savior was regarded as a mortal threat to the early Church. How could Jesus be the one true path to salvation if the very people who heard his message with their own ears clung to their faith? Early Christian theologians wrestled with the question of whether the Jews should even be allowed to exist. St. John Chrysostom of Antioch preached that synagogues were whorehouses and dens of thieves, that Jews were no better than pigs and goats, that they had grown fat from having too much to eat, that they should be marked for slaughter. Not surprisingly, there were numerous attacks on the Jews of Antioch, and their synagogue was destroyed. In 414 the Jews of Alexandria were wiped out. Regrettably, it was only the beginning.”

Still dressed in his borrowed clerical suit, Gabriel went to the window and, parting the blinds, peered into the Borgo Santo Spirito. Donati was seated at his writing desk. Before him, still in its sheath of protective plastic, was the page from the book.

EVANGELIUM SECUNDUM PILATI …

“For the record,” said Donati after a moment, “the Nicene Creed, which was written at the First Council of Nicaea, states unequivocally that Jesus suffered under Pontius Pilate. Furthermore, the Church declared in Nostra Aetate in 1965 that the Jews as a people are not collectively responsible for the death of Jesus. And twenty-three years after that, Pope Wojtyla issued ‘We Remember,’ his statement on the Church and the Holocaust.”

“I remember it, too. It went to great pains to suggest that two thousand years of Church teaching that Jews were the murderers of God had absolutely nothing to do with the Nazis and the Final Solution. It was a whitewash, Excellency. It was curial word salad.”

“Which is why my master stood at the bimah in the Great Synagogue of Rome and begged the Jews for forgiveness.” Donati paused. “You remember that, too, don’t you? You were there, if I recall.”

Gabriel took down a copy of the Bible from Donati’s bookcase and opened it to the twenty-seventh chapter of Matthew. “What about this?” He pointed out the relevant passage. “Am I personally guilty of the murder of God, or are the writers of the four Gospels guilty of the most vicious slander in history?”

“The Church has declared that you are not.”

“And I thank the Church for belatedly making that clear.” Gabriel tapped the page with this fingertip. “But the book still says I am.”

“Scripture cannot be changed.”

“The Codex Vaticanus would suggest otherwise.” Gabriel returned the Bible to its place on the shelf and resumed his study of the street. “And the other gospels? The ones bishops rejected at the Synod of Hippo?”

“They were deemed apocryphal. For the most part, they were literary elaborations on the four canonical Gospels. Ancient fan fiction, if you will. There were books like the Infancy Gospel of Thomas that focused on the early life of Jesus. There were Gnostic gospels, Jewish Christian gospels, the Gospel of Mary, even the Gospel of Judas. There was also a significant body of Passion apocrypha, stories devoted to Jesus’ suffering and death. One was called the Gospel of Peter. Peter didn’t write it, of course. It was pseudepigrapha, or falsely inscribed. The same was true of the Gospel of Nicodemus. That book is better known as the Acta Pilati.”

Gabriel turned away from the window. “The Acts of Pilate?”

Donati nodded. “Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin who lived on a great estate outside Jerusalem. He was said to have been a secret disciple of Jesus and a confidant of Pilate. He’s depicted in Caravaggio’s Deposition of Christ, the figure in the sienna-colored garment grasping Jesus’ legs. Caravaggio gave him Michelangelo’s face, by the way.”

“Really?” asked Gabriel archly. “I never knew.”

Donati ignored the remark. “Dating the Acts of Pilate is difficult, but most scholars agree it was probably written in the late fourth century. It purports to contain material composed by Pilate himself while he was in Jerusalem. It was quite popular here in Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In fact, it was printed twenty-eight times during that period.” Donati held up his phone. “To read it now, all you need is one of these.”

“Were there other Pilate books?”

“Several.”

“Such as?”

“The Memoirs of Pilate, the Martyrdom of Pilate, and the Report of Pilate, to name a few. The Handing Over of Pilate describes his appearance before Emperor Tiberius after he was recalled to Rome. Never mind that Tiberius was dead by the time Pilate arrived. There was also the Letter of Pilate to Claudius, the Letter of Pilate to Herod, the Letter of Herod to Pilate, the Letter of Tiberius to Pilate …” Donati’s voice trailed off. “You get the point.”

“What about the Gospel of Pilate?”

“I am unfamiliar with an apocryphal piece of Christian writing by that name.”

“Are any of the other books considered credible?”

“No,” said Donati. “They’re all forgeries. And they all attempt to exonerate Pilate for Jesus’ death while at the same time implicating the Jews.”