THE SINAI DESERT, JUNE 2000

Father Mike Kennedy, S.J., laughed as he remembered parts of his Marine Corps background. This place was as hot as a mother were all the words that formed in his mind, although the expression was incomplete by Marine standards. He had never used all the words, even as a 19-year-old sergeant, long ago in another equally hot but totally different part of the world. It wasn't shyness about colorful language, but Irish-American kids from the south side of Chicago just didn't use that expression. Now he worked hard to avoid any of the old vulgarities, but sometimes they sure fit the situation.

It has to be 110 degrees, he thought as his eyes scanned the tumbled horizon of low mountains and sandy, rock-strewn valleys called the Sinai wilderness. Unlike Vietnam, there were no rivers of sweat to burn your eyes and darken your clothes. Here the perspiration was gone, evaporated, as soon as it broke the skin.

All things considered, he loved it, especially the work. If Vietnam had been his hell on earth, this place was just a mild form of purgatory. It was a good analogy; one had killed his soul and almost his body; this place and the work were now part of his salvation.

In Vietnam Kennedy had been a long-range sniper in a program called "Phoenix." You had to learn to hate to do that job well, and Kennedy became one of the best. Too late he discovered that hate kills the soul.

The Jesuits gave him back that soul and he gave them his life. He worked hard at being a good priest, but secretly worried that he lacked real faith in the Almighty. Along his way he picked up a doctorate in Biblical Archeology. Now he was among the best in that field.

"Father Michael, please come out of the sun, you have no hat and your brain will soon cook." The speaker was another Jesuit priest, an Italian named Joseph Antonini, standing only ten feet from Kennedy in the shade provided by a large tent awning. The two men were as unlike as could be.

Joe Antonini was Venice-born, slight and bespectacled. He looked as if he had never participated in any physical activity in his entire life. A month ago he had temporarily given up his position as deputy director of the Vatican Library to participate in this expedition. Father Antonini's expertise was the field of ancient Middle Eastern languages, particularly Aramaic, Egyptian, and Hebrew.

"We need that brain, my brother," said a smiling Antonini as he handed Kennedy a wide brimmed straw plantation hat labeled MK. It was in the style favored by most members of the dig—lightweight, comfortable, and effective. "Get some water," the Italian pointed toward a large field container. "You will never see an Arab uncovered out in the sun; learn from them." Kennedy disliked most hats, except for baseball caps.

"Where is Father Jean?" asked Kennedy, "I need to ask him some questions about the area south of us."

Joe Antonini motioned to the main tent. "I think he is with the Rabbi. There is some confusion about the next part of the directions."

Kennedy laughed at the comment. "Joseph, my friend, you should be a diplomat. There has been confusion about directions since we started on this trek. If we find anything out here, it will be the will of God, not the words of Rabbi Baruk."

"Do you think this is all a waste of time and money, Michael?"

Kennedy had asked himself the same question many times in the last two weeks. "No, I don't think so. Logic is on our side. The copper scrolls appear to be genuine, thanks to your work in helping the Rabbi." He was referring to artifacts discovered three years earlier, not far from where the Dead Sea scrolls had been found in 1947, Most of the archeological "establishment" considered the latest finds to be fake. If Rabbi Baruk had not convinced me to get him into the archives to work with you on translation and verification of the scrolls, most Biblical scholars would still be laughing at his claims."

Rabbi Baruk was a big bear of a man with a powerful voice. His keen mind and excellent education made him arrogant. When he announced to the world that his great find was perhaps the most important in history, many well-respected people in the field fervently prayed that the Rabbi would fall on his face. But he was so well thought of in Rome, when he petitioned the Governor General of the Jesuit order for assistance it was quickly granted. Soon thereafter Rabbi Shamul Baruk became the first Orthodox Jewish scholar to have access to the archives of the Vatican Library. It took him and Antonini six months of cross-referencing and research to verify the authenticity of the scrolls.

Scrolls that Rabbi Baruk claimed were coded directions to find the golden ark of Solomon's temple: The Ark of the Covenant.

"These scrolls purport to be copies of an original work written in 583 BC by a well-known scribe named Baruch, the secretary of the prophet Jeremiah." Kennedy saw Antonini wince when he used the old fashioned BC instead of the now-accepted BCE—Before Christian Era.

"Remember, Michael," said Antonini, "The Israeli government is paying for half of this expedition."

"I know, I know! And the Vatican is picking the other half. I figure between us the old term is still as good as a Latin Mass." Both laughed at the inside joke.

"We know Jeremiah was a real person from Biblical and other history, namely Egyptian and Babylonian. There is strong but unproven evidence that he and Baruch found their way to what is now Ireland." The ancient legend appealed to his heritage. "The Book of Macabees has Jeremiah taking the Ark and other artifacts out of the temple and hiding them in a cave. There is disagreement about the wording in the reference; was it on Mt. Nebo, or could you see Mt. Nebo from the cave? Who knows, hell, the Protestant side of the Christian world believes the book of Macabees to be uninspired words, although the book was ok to be in the Bible until the Reformation. Go figure."

Kennedy stopped and took a long drink of water. Dehydration was the greatest danger in this heat.

"The last reference to the artifacts in the King James Bible is 2 Chronicles where Josiah talks about it, in 621 BCE." Kennedy accentuated the BCE and Antonini gave him thumbs up.

"The Babylonians arrived in 605 BCE and no less than Jeremiah got them to spare the city. Young Nebuchadnezzer had to hurry back to Babylon because his father died. Before he left his forces looted the temple. He returned in 597, because the King of Jerusalem kept throwing in with the Egyptians. This time they spared the city, but established a new king, looted the temple again, and carried off ten thousand of Jerusalem's finest into slavery. It would appear the remaining residents were slow learners because ten years later the Babylonians were back. This time they destroyed the city and the temple, and killed or enslaved everyone else. That was in 586 BCE.

"The Babylonians were butchers, but they kept good records. They recorded everything they took from the temple. We both know what wasn't in the records. Seventy five years later they let all the Jews go back to the Promised Land and gave back to them what had been taken from the temple.

"So, Father Antonini, that is why is why I believe our scrolls will give us directions to the hiding place of those sacred artifacts. If we can just solve the narrative expressions used by the scribe."

"Perhaps that is why they sent the three of us instead of just one."

Kennedy laughed at that remark. He knew why he was on the expedition: his friendship with the colorful and controversial Rabbi was considered important by the Vatican and the State of Israel. Kennedy had known Baruk for the better part of twenty years and had worked with him on a dig in northern Israel.

"Is it true that he hates everything about the German government and its people?" Antonini gestured toward the tent of Rabbi Baruk.

"I think he hates everything about the Germany of World War Two. He was fifteen when the British liberated his camp in Austria. He survived four years in a hell-hole that cost him his entire family. He never talks of that time and I've never asked. If he does still hate them, I've not noticed any public statements. I think his fierce pro-Israeli politics cause people to still think he is anti-German. But I'll tell you what I do know: he is the best in the world in the field of biblical archeology and the languages of that time."

The conversation of the two Jesuits was interrupted by a command from the main tent, shouted by the man they were discussing. The Rabbi made all his requests loud commands. He wanted their opinion and he wanted it now.

"Good mid-day, Fathers," said Rabbi Baruk without rising, as the two entered the main tent of the expedition. He was seated at a large table covered with topographic maps and glossy black-and-white photographs. Standing next to him was the third Jesuit priest on the dig, Father Jean Micheaux. A man known to speak seldom, but when he did, it was wise to listen.

Micheaux nodded to the two and turned back to a computer screen sitting on the table. In the quiet of the tent, had it not been for the well-muffled sound of the outside generators, there would have been a tomb-like stillness.

"I have asked you here to help me, which is your purpose on this expedition," the Rabbi gestured for them to be seated. "Father Micheaux has been here for nearly an hour, but we have made little progress. I can not speak for him of course, but the next set of narrative instructions has me baffled."

Kennedy and Antonini exchanged knowing glances as this was out of character for the Rabbi.

Baruk continued, "The translation is accurate, but what does it really say? That is what I need from you. We are at the open end of two long canyons; one is oriented north to south, the other east to west. Both are roughly ten kilometers long and closed at each end. What do your cowboy movies call them?"

"Box canyons," answered Joe Antonini. He loved Western movies.

"So far we are meeting our schedule," said Baruk. "I want to avoid the delay of looking in the wrong canyon. The less time we are out here, the less chance of the Egyptians finding us."

The last comment was a sensitive issue. The Sinai was back in Egyptian hands, and since the peace accords, a UN peace-keeping force kept tight control over who did what in the area. The UN force was mainly American paratroops from the 82nd and 101st Divisions. Technically, a case could be made that any discoveries in the Sinai belonged to Egypt. Israel decided pragmatism was the better part of diplomacy; so they would just go see what they could find, and then talk about it later to the world.

It also helped to have high friends both in Washington and Rome.

The Rabbi continued his commentary. "Are we all in agreement that we have reached the final set of narrative directions?"

Kennedy and Antonini pulled their chairs next to the computer and Father Micheaux. The screen was split with a vertical line. The left half contained photocopy of the actual scrolls, the right side was the exact translation in English. You could also call up the translation in Modern Hebrew, French, and Italian. Jean Micheaux spoke in his gentle, yet commanding tone, "Michael, please read aloud the text. Do it as if you were the one actually giving the instructions."

"Certainly Jean," said Kennedy, "But why me?"

"Because you have passion and intensity."

Kennedy read the words several times silently, thought about them, and began.

"Almighty One, here your sun will give shadow to the weary. Let it also bring wisdom to the believers. This wisdom will be the salvation of your people. Blessed are your works and your Holy Name."

Kennedy read the passage aloud three more times at the request of the listeners. Silence filled the tent. When no one spoke Kennedy mused, What the hell, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He looked at Baruk. "Rabbi, what do we know of the author?"

Baruk looked at him, and silently raised his appreciation of Father Micheaux's insights. "He was the life-long scribe of the prophet Jeremiah. He was literate in Paleo-Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. Literacy was not common in that time. He never married as best we know. He was with Jeremiah for over thirty years and inscribed all the prophet's words; other than that, very little."

"Did the prophets of that time speak literally, in parables, or in some combination?"

The Rabbi answered quickly, "Yes to all three—it depended on the circumstances and the prophet."

"Would the scribe Baruch have been the one who actually inscribed the scroll?"

"Yes, the original would have been on papyrus. Metal-working was a trade known by few. It was probably copied on copper after the Jewish people returned from exile in Babylon. The use of copper indicates it was of high value and going to be hidden a long time.

"I'm going to make an assumption that this narrative is literal, and let us see where it takes us," Kennedy went on. "When would you be weary, no matter what your work? Would you accept the premise it would be at the end of the day? And if that is the message, where would the sun be that casts the shadows that give relief from the heat—do you all agree it would be low in the western sky?" Kennedy could see all three were very attentive.

"Look at our choices: one canyon runs south to north, and the other east to west. Only in the south-to-north canyon will there be any shadow; in fact the entire western wall of that canyon is going to be in shadow all afternoon. Not so with the east-to-west canyon. It will never have shadows, as the setting sun is right down its main axis." He paused for a drink of water. "Whatever we are looking for is not described in the narrative; only the shadows will give us the wisdom and allow us to succeed. I think we are supposed to search the shadows of the western face of the canyon that runs south to north." He continued, "He says the word `believers,' which would imply a Jewish heritage of belief. I think we are looking for something that gives a verification of the holiness of the Creator, or the Jewish tradition."

As he finished talking he felt a little foolish, waiting for a rebuke from Rabbi Baruk. Instead the Rabbi smiled and nodded assent. "Well done, Michael! Wonderful insight and logic. It may be incorrect, but it makes perfect sense."

The third Jesuit chose this moment to speak, something he seldom did, and only when he deemed it necessary. Father Jean Micheaux, originally from Calais, was nearly the age of Rabbi Baruk. Tall, angular, and extremely fit, he looked fifteen years younger than his age and liked it that way. "Rabbi, may I ask a question?"

"Of course, Father."

"Could we also assume that the author was referring to God's works of natural beauty that can only be seen or appreciated in these shadows?"

"An excellent assumption, Father Micheaux," said Baruk. "Let us proceed as follows: first we study the photographs of the area provided by our American friends, then this afternoon we start looking. He distributed glossy black-and-white photographs. The pictures had been provided by a U.S. Government agency whose initials were once highly classified. The cold war had spawned many programs; few matched the sophistication and performance of the U.S. Overhead Sensor Platforms. Rabbi Baruk had at his disposal an incredible array of documents or readouts, multiple angles in a number of spectrums from visible to infrared. The sensors were developed to find missiles in well-hidden launchers; they could actually tell if a silo was empty or loaded with an ICBM. The problem facing the expedition was that the Sinai was filled with caves, caverns, and many other features under the shifting sands and silent canyons of this wilderness.

In the next hour the group concentrated on the western wall of the target canyon. The overheads revealed nothing because the rock that made up the height of the canyon's walls was simply too thick even for the magic of the KY-13 and KY-15 platforms looking down from their high orbits.

"Well, gentlemen," the Rabbi proposed as he studied the last photograph, "Let's break camp and go find what we came to find, and fulfill our destiny." The Rabbi loved drama.