Kamil took his string of beads out of his pocket and ran them through his fingers.
Elif sat back with her eyes closed. Kamil wondered if she was asleep.
When Ismail Hodja finally looked up, it was with a puzzled frown. “I don’t understand this at all. I can read it, but…” He shook his head in consternation. “Is it possible?”
Elif sat up. “What is it?”
“In the name of the merciful and compassionate God,” Ismail Hodja read, “their reckoning comes ever closer to men, yet they turn aside heedlessly.” He lifted his head and said, “That is the opening verse of the al-Anbiya Sura, The Chapter of the Prophets.”
“It’s a copy of the Quran?” Kamil asked.
“No. If the text is to be believed, it was written six hundred years before the Quran was revealed to the Prophet Muhammad, blessings upon his name. Listen.” He continued to read. “To every renewed message from their Lord, they listen to it as in jest. They say, let him bring us a Sign like the ones that were sent to the Prophets of old.”
Ismail Hodja stopped and read quietly for a while, consulted a book, then nodded and began to read the text out loud again. “Before thee, the Apostles we sent were but men, to whom we granted inspiration. We have revealed for you a Book in which is a Message for you. This is the Message of those with me and those before me. He has ordained you the religion that He commanded to Noah, Abraham, and Moses, and revealed also to the servant of God, Jesus of Nazareth, whose testament lies revealed before you.”
“What?” Kamil rose and went over to stand beside Ismail Hodja. They both stared down at the text.
“It’s written by Jesus?” Elif asked, astounded.
“Apparently. It’s in an untutored hand, but it’s clearly legible. I’m certain that’s what it says.” He continued reading. “We have sent down to you a Book in which is a reminder for you. He it is who created the night and the day and the sun and the moon, each floating in the sky. We will place just balances upon the resurrection day, and no soul shall be wronged. Though it be the weight of a grain of mustard seed, we will bring it.”
Ismail Hodja looked up from his reading. “I can almost recite this from memory,” he said. “It’s not exactly the same as al-Anbiya, but many of the basic elements are there, sometimes word for word. It’s also interesting that the language is more sophisticated than one would expect from the handwriting.”
“As if the author were copying down something being dictated to him. Why would he do that?” Kamil sifted possible explanations through his mind. Jesus as an untutored scribe?
“The Angel Gabriel dictated Allah’s words to the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him,” Ismail Hodja reminded him.
“But the Prophet didn’t write them down. He recited them. They weren’t written down until much later. It’s unlikely that Jesus was literate.”
“It’s possible that this too was dictated to Jesus and that he then recited it to someone who wrote it down before he died.”
The notion of Allah dictating through an angel was not one Kamil gave any credence to. There had to be an explanation for this text written by a person of flesh and blood who knew how to wield a stylus.
Ismail Hodja continued reading, sometimes stopping to reflect on a word. “Man is created out of haste. I will show you my signs, but do not hurry me. We gave to Moses and Aaron a light and a reminder to those who fear. And we gave Abraham direction, for we knew about him. They said, ‘Burn him.’ We said, ‘O fire, be thou cool and a safety for Abraham.’ We brought him and Lot safely to the land that we have blessed for the nations. We bestowed on him Isaac and Jacob and made them righteous persons. And we made them leaders to guide men. We inspired them to do good deeds and be steadfast in prayer, and to give alms. And they served us. And when Noah cried out, we delivered him and his family. And to Solomon we gave judgment and knowledge. To David we subjected the mountains and the birds to celebrate our praises. To Solomon we subjected the wind to run at his bidding and devils to dive for him. And she who guarded her chastity, we breathed into her of our Spirit, and we made her and her son a Sign for all peoples. To her son we give this Prophecy that we have revealed to others before him. Verily, this your nation is one nation and I am your Lord, so serve me.”
When Ismail Hodja stopped reading, no one spoke. The light from the windows was gray and the room had become dark.
Jemal came in with a lamp.
“Put it on the other side of the room, Jemal,” Ismail Hodja directed. “The light will damage the document.” The brown parchment had already begun to crumble and the paper on which it rested was covered in fine dust.
Ismail Hodja carefully replaced the pages in the lead case and shut it.
“Malik was right. These should be copied. The exposure to air has set their decay in motion. There isn’t much time.” He looked hopefully at Kamil.
“Of course, but remember that other people are after this box. Are you sure you want to keep it here? You could be in danger.”
Ismail Hodja looked over at Jemal, who shook his head very slightly. “I’ll speak to Hamdi Bey and see if we can take it to the Imperial Museum tonight. It should be safe there and I can consult with the conservator about preserving it and having it copied.”
Kamil nodded, relieved to have found a safe hiding place. Jemal slipped out of the room, presumably to fetch Hamdi Bey from his home or office.
“Is it a fake?” Kamil asked. “Someone who knew the Quran and copied it out in Aramaic as a kind of joke?”
Ismail Hodja looked at the box thoughtfully and said, “It’s possible. But I’ve had the privilege of studying a number of old documents written in Aramaic. It’s very hard to create a fake if you aren’t a scholar of the language, of Aramaic as it must have been spoken eighteen hundred years ago in the time of Jesus. I have only limited knowledge, of course, and it was such an unfathomably long time ago. But despite the unsophisticated lettering, this document has none of the errors you’d expect if it had been written by someone trying to adapt a later form of the language, that is, trying to make it appear older. I doubt any scholar would have attempted such a thing. A joke like this would have taken a lifetime to accomplish.”
“So you think this really was written by Jesus?” Kamil was in turmoil. His mind categorically rejected this possibility, but he respected Ismail Hodja too much to dismiss his opinion.
“Or someone from that period. Yes. That’s the simplest explanation.”
“But what does it mean?” Elif asked. “How could Jesus write or dictate part of the Quran, when it didn’t even exist?”
“Ah, Elif Hanoum. You’ve come right to the heart of the problem. In the al-Anbiya Sura, Allah tells us that there were many other prophets before Muhammad, praise be upon him, including Jesus, and that they were all given the same message by Allah, but that they were ignored or worse by the unbelievers. In the Night Journey Sura, there’s a passage about people who refused to believe in Allah because he sent them a Messenger who was a man like them, instead of an angel.
“The important point is that all the prophets were given the same message. In the Consultation Sura, it is written, ‘He has established the same religion for you as that which he enjoined on Noah, on Abraham, Moses and Jesus. Namely, that you should remain steadfast in religion and make no divisions therein.’” He shrugged. “Of course, it’s pointed out that the people did become divided, but the idea is that Allah will bring them together again. The Islamic, Jewish, and Christian God is the same God.”
“An optimistic message for our time,” Kamil commented dryly.
“Well, there’s also plenty about the ungrateful unbelievers and doubters and their unenviable fates in the flames of hell.” Ismail Hodja stood by the table, looking down at the lead container. He reached out and laid his fingers on it. “My eyes are privileged.”