The
J
Genome
by
Raymond Gen
Book 1 - The J Genome Book 2 - The J Genesis Book 3 - The J Generation
Description:
This is the first book of a speculative trilogy about the cloning of Jesus. The J Genome recounts how Jesus came to be cloned. It explicates the circumstances from Jesus' crucifixion, how his DNA was preserved, and how his clone, Janus came to be born. The protagonists are a young female, Asian-American seminarian and an older Irish priest. Together they bring about the birth of Jesus' clone. (87,520 words)
Prologue
He was born on the twenty-eighth of December, a few hours before midnight on a clear night in Southern California. Warm nights in December were not rare in San Diego, but the balmy weather offered only a mild reassurance to those who were present at his unusual birth.
“It’s a miracle!” exclaimed one of the men in the birthing room. He was not the father of the child, but in the ensuing years, he would become as important to the child as a father figure.
The mother of the baby did not hear the exclamation. Her concentration was myopically focused on her newborn whom she cradled adoringly in her arms. The new arrival was the clone of Jesus of Nazareth. This monograph is a narrative record of how this event came to pass. The subsequent monograph tells of the clone’s life, work and death. The final volume conveys the aftermath of the clone’s life.
1. Joseph
Devastation. Three tumultuous years of work had just ended with complete and final desolation. During these years, Joseph’s work was both richly rewarding and a heartbreaking curse. Joseph was a member of the Jewish ruling council, the Great Sanhedrin. Joseph’s self-appointed mission was to conciliate the exciting, lightning-rod ministry of a local, magnetic personality from Nazareth to the conventional Jewish priests who sat in the Council of Seventy-one, the Great Sanhedrin. In the council, he tried to mediate and temper the manic actions and ministries of Yeshua with the staid traditions of the Jewish people. Joseph also tried to work from the other side. Joseph tried to convince Yeshua, time and time again, that in order to win over the official priests, he needed to behave within acceptable bounds as elucidated by the Law and by tradition. Joseph said to Yeshua, “Of course, I think that your ministry to sinners is important and necessary, but do you have to eat with them? Become friends with them? They are the opposite of what the Lord God intended for us to be and the Elders are starting to talk about your inappropriate associations and ours as well,” indicating his disciples. To that, Yeshua replied, “Are you truly concerned for me and for our work among the people who need me the most? Or are you more worried about what the Elders think? What is more important?” Yeshua didn’t seem too interested in pleasing the Sanhedrin or the priests. Yeshua seemed to relish bending the Law to its fullest extent. As if to reciprocate, the great council didn’t seem too interested in embracing the charismatic wonder worker. Joseph’s mediation built no bridges and bore no fruit.
Joseph, most of the time, had been caught up in Yeshua's tempest of social and religious rejuvenation to help the needy in Galilee and Judea. He had witnessed the miracles. People were brought in on stretchers but walked out on their own two feet. Some blind people could now see. The insane were now of sound mind. He had helped when the disciples fed thousands with the fish and loaves of bread that seemed to just keep coming without end. Joseph had witnessed these events with his eyes. And he was committed to being an integral part of the Yeshua movement. It had swept over him like the waves which had consumed Pharaoh's chariots. Its hold on him was inescapable and all-enveloping. It was frightening to his family; he startled even himself when he stopped to think about it. He used to be so sensible, so predictable. Now he had attached himself to a kite in a wind storm. This Yeshua was truly in touch with heaven, but not all his actions made sense to Joseph. Not all of Yeshua’s actions were congruent with the sanctity and holiness associated with tradition. Yeshua made a mockery of “right behavior.” He was constantly associating with the wrong types of people and put himself in seemingly compromising positions and situations. But Yeshua had never been accused of any wrongdoing with the exception of his close association with sinners. No one ever saw him participate in his friends’ sins. But surely, Yeshua must know that just being with them conferred sin just by association. All these inconsistencies plagued Joseph. He got along well with Yeshua. There was a growing friendship between Yeshua and Joseph. They shared common dreams, visions, meals, wine, and even jokes. Yeshua’s jokes and friendly barbs were helping Joseph become more personable and less self-righteous. He thought to himself, “I need to be more understanding and to take myself and my religion with more grace and be less judgmental. Isn’t that what Yeshua was doing? When Yeshua said ‘judge others in the same way you want to be judged’ - wasn’t Yeshua arguing for compassion and empathy rather than self-righteousness?”
However, Joseph was part of the established theocracy - one that was dignified by tradition, ritual, and ceremony, but he was beginning to soften. The Sanhedrin was largely in charge of the masses of people because religion was all-pervasive. To be a citizen of Judea, to be a Jew, and to be observant of the Law were one and the same. A broken civil law was the same as a sin against God. This is the essence of a theocracy. Since God ordained the government, disobedience was tantamount to rebellion against God. Hence, Roman rule was thought to be a test for the Jewish people. It was a paradox. The rabbis debated the following syllogism: first premise - God is all-powerful and everything is ordained by God. The second premise - Rome rules Judea. Therefore, the conclusion is - the Roman rule of Judea is ordained by God? This couldn't be right. But yet, here were the facts smacking them like a great fish in the face. “Judea was being tested,” reasoned the intelligentsia of Jerusalem. Rome was part of a divine test and not the true rule of God. Rome was a test for the Jewish people, just as Job was tested. Job passed his crucible, would the Jewish people get through the test of Roman rule?
Pontius Pilate was there to secure the Province of Judea for Rome. Its taxes must arrive in Rome in a timely fashion and Pilate was to ensure that no one would foment a rebellion. Judea’s neighbor to the north was Galilee. Herod Antipas was the Tetrarch of Galilee and of Perea (to the east of Judea). He was there to make sure Rome got its monetary due in taxes. (Taxes were the recurring theme.) That is why Rome allowed him to rule. But at the same time, Herod could benefit and profit as Rome’s sanctioned ruler. Antipas understood that Rome’s endorsement of his position was good so long as he kept the peace and delivered the appropriate taxes and tributes on schedule, as his father, Herod the Great did before him. His brother, Archelaus lost his position as ethnarch of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea when he was deemed incompetent and was replaced by a Roman Governor, who was currently Pontius Pilate. Judea was now a province of Rome. Antipas would do everything he could to avoid the fate of his brother who lost Judea to Rome. As long as he delivered taxes and kept a reasonable peace, Herod Antipas could practically do anything he wanted and Rome would cast a blind eye. His father, Herod the Great, had killed the firstborn of Jewish families because he heard of a new king being born. Rome didn’t seem to mind this brutality because that was a local matter and the taxes still arrived on time. The fact that Antipas ruled Galilee for thirty-two years indicated that he had contrived the ruling formula correctly.
Of all the Jews in Judea, Caiaphas, the high priest, probably had the most impact on the day-to-day lives of the people in the Promised Land. He held true power in Judea. Rome had its governor rule the city and collect the taxes, but Caiaphas ruled the Great Sanhedrin. His decrees and decisions affected the lives of the common people. Religion ruled the lives of people, not Rome, not Pilate, not even Jerusalem, nor Herod Antipas of Galilee. Since Caiaphas was the leader of the religion, he was the person with the most influence on the lives of everyday people. He was the high priest in his religion and he led the Great Sanhedrin. The Great Sanhedrin was the highest court and council of the Jewish people. The Lesser Sanhedrin deferred to the Greater in matters of greatest import. Caiaphas moved pretty well for a person approaching his seventies. His gouty joints caused him pain and he moved slowly, but determinedly. Most of his friends his age had retired to a more leisurely life, but Caiaphas enjoyed his position of authority too much. He was surrounded by sycophants who made his job easier because they would do anything to please him. As the presiding officer of the Sanhedrin, he commanded respect. While he could not directly appoint his successor, he could greatly influence the line of succession. Caiaphas had his eye on Joseph. Joseph was too young and naive to take the position immediately after Caiaphas, but he could become Jonathan’s “ha-Segan,” the chief assistant. Caiaphas’ chief assistant was Jonathan, his brother-in-law. The assistant position entails training and waiting. The ha-Segan would temporarily assume the duties of the high priest should the high priest become ritually unclean. Uncleanliness was a temporary state which can be alleviated by rites of purification. The state of uncleanliness could easily occur by inadvertently coming into contact with someone who was ritually unclean like a woman who was going through menstruation or with a tanner. But essentially the assistant was a position of waiting for succession and learning the political and ritual intricacies of such a position.
Joseph held a high place in the Sanhedrin. He came from good stock. His family had great wealth. He was educated by Hillel the Elder himself. He was, in fact, the favorite of Caiaphas and was being groomed to eventually take the leadership of the Sanhedrin. That is, he was the favorite until Joseph started to be enamored with the work of Yeshua. Joseph’s goal was to bring Yeshua’s vibrant ministry into the fold of the Sanhedrin. “What a revival of faith that would be!” he thought. Joseph felt that this was his true mission. He wanted to weave the sober, traditional observance of the Law with the unpredictable, manic, miracle-working ministry of Yeshua for all the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This was Joseph’s goal, his self-appointed destiny. However, Caiphas had no intention to allow something like this to take place.
Joseph’s dream was merely that. Reality had caught up with Joseph when Yeshua was arrested, tried by Pontius Pilate and Herod Antipas, and even brought before the great council, the Sanhedrin itself. Yeshua was bounced around the courts because of jurisdiction issues. On the civil side, Pilate governed Judea and thereby Jerusalem. But most of Yeshua’s activities took place in Galilee, where Antipas ruled. On the religious side, the Sanhedrin held sway. Joseph tried to intervene on behalf of Yeshua, but he was prevented from doing so by armed men. These armed men were not Roman; they weren’t even Herod’s; they were the Sanhedrin’s. Caiaphas thought he was protecting his young protégé, Joseph from himself. Joseph saw it as the ultimate betrayal. Joseph would have defended Yeshua before the entire seventy-one members of the Great Sanhedrin. His defense would have been eloquent, had he been allowed to make it. But Caiaphas would not allow disputation. Yeshua’s ministry was not what bothered Caiaphas at all. Caiaphas could put up with the eloquent preaching, even when the preaching was aimed at himself. He was not bothered by the purported miracles. Prophets both false and genuine had appeared from time to time and the Sanhedrin had always survived. But what Caiaphas could not abide was the rise of the zealots. Zealots always looked for a fight. Zealots were interested in finding a bolt of lightning to inflame the people into rebellion. But Caiaphas knew that rebellion against Rome was suicidal. Rome would destroy the rebuilt temple; Rome would destroy Jerusalem; Rome would destroy religion itself. Caiaphas was only protecting his people, his religion, and his heritage when he stopped Joseph from speaking. Yeshua’s sacrifice would be for the good of all the people of faith. Caiaphas would sleep easily with these facts on his mind. Sacrificing one for the good of the many was perfectly justifiable, even righteous.
"Caiaphas! For the sake of Israel - stop this now! You know he is guilty of nothing, except being naive," Joseph shouted as he rushed into the great council chamber, confronting his mentor after the Sanhedrin had adjourned.
"I know nothing of the sort, Joseph," Caiaphas shot back, controlling his anger. He was doing his best to ignore the rudeness and impropriety of his young friend. "Rebellion is murmuring because of him. He is destabilizing the entire nation with his preaching. How long do you think this will go on before Rome will act against him and us? Yeshua isn’t the only one who is being naive here." Caiaphas adjusted his priestly robe as he awaited his young friend’s retort.
Joseph immediately countered, "Rebellion is NOT his message, and YOU know it! He has not preached against Rome. His message has not harmed Israel. He has revived us. He has healed us. He has helped us! Rome would not mind a bit. He even said in a sermon, ‘Render unto Caesar was is Caesar’s.’" Joseph was just getting started.
Caiaphas’ patience was growing thinner and replied with greater ferocity, "That may have been his intent, but the zealots have taken his message to ignite rebellion against Antipas and Rome itself. Yeshua is a lightning storm that will bring a bolt that will not miss Israel. He will single-handedly destroy us. And YOU know this!" Caiaphas had spoken as apocalyptically as Jeremiah, who had also prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, but Caiaphas had no knowledge of his own prescience. Caiaphas did not know how true his words would become in a mere forty years when the Jewish revolt against Rome would end in the destruction of Jerusalem and Judea as they knew it. Caiaphas was the high priest. He had risen to that position, not on religious merit alone. He was also a shrewd politician. People rise to power not only on the merit of knowledge and being good at what they do. People rise to power by cajoling and pleasing people. It was the part of power many people don’t realize. The naive think that merit alone will qualify a person for a position of power. That has never been true.
"That's not his fault! Anyone can twist somebody's words - even yours." Joseph's pseudo-rationalism was at best shaky and was becoming more unstable as the debate continued. Joseph was doing his best to use logic instead of blatant outrage. But his voice was starting to quaver. He was near tears in his frustration as the situation was unraveling. The entire situation was rapidly decaying into a nightmare from which he could not awaken.
"True. But Rome is not asking about me. No one is thinking that I will raise an insurrection against the Romans. Pilate is concerned that the zealots will stage an uprising, using Yeshua as a rallying point. Pilate's demands are simple: pay taxes and no rioting. That scene outside of the temple nearly erupted into a full-scale rebellion. We cannot have that. We told Pilate that crucifying Yeshua will quell any trouble in Judea," Caiaphas replied coolly and reasonably. “You are a farmer, surely you would burn one field of disease-ridden crops to save your entire farm or sacrifice one sheep to save the flock. The sacrifice of Yeshua is needed for Judea to survive.”
Joseph protested with frustration, "It's not true. It's not just. It's not-" The injustice of the situation was unendurable. Caiaphas was also growing more frustrated with his obstinate protege.
Caiaphas cut Joseph’s protestations off, “-But it is the price of our religion and our freedom. I did this for you, Joseph. I did it for your family and for all our families. I did this for Jerusalem. Yeshua must be sacrificed for the good of all Judea, for the good of Jerusalem, for the good of our faith and people.” This would be the last time Caiaphas would speak to Joseph directly. Had Caiaphas known this, he would have been more charitable to his apprentice. Joseph stormed out of the council chambers and would never return. His days in the Great Council had ended in social, moral, and ethical failure.
Joseph lurked in the shadows the next day as Yeshua was perfunctorily tried and executed. As a matter of fact, there were many lurkers that day. Yeshua’s followers were once bold and sure of their convictions. But on that day, they cowered in fear. No one dared to draw individual attention upon themselves, because the Romans and the Herodian guards were ever vigilantly watching. So everyone hung back and followed as Yeshua was led from place to place to face his accusers. It was an entourage of shame and hopelessness. They were ashamed of themselves for not defending Yeshua. They were hopeless in a world that offered no justice. When Pilate pronounced the final verdict, the finality of the situation was laid bare for Yeshua’s followers.
They grimaced when he was beaten. They wept when the sentence was pronounced. Their bodies involuntarily recoiled in sympathetic reaction, and their eyes shut tight in horror when the iron nails were driven into Yeshua’s hands and feet. Crucifixion was not unique to the Romans, but they seemed to have perfected it. It was very cruel. It was very slow. It was very effective. And - it communicated the desired message to Rome's enemies. Yeshua lingered upon the cross and died relatively quickly due to the abuses he had suffered prior to the actual crucifixion.
After Yeshua was removed from the cross, Joseph approached Pontius Pilate. His demand was simple: “Procurator Pilate, I demand the body of the crucified Yeshua. I shall bury him as the laws of our land dictate.”
Pilate glanced at the trusted centurion on his left. The centurion’s response was barely noticeable - a nearly imperceptible nod. But the nod was enough for Pilate to know that the sentence was executed with the customary Roman efficiency when it came to these kinds of matters. The victim was most certainly dead. When one of the attendant soldiers pierced the side of Yeshua to make sure of his demise, the corpse didn’t twitch or respond in any way. It didn't even really bleed. The centurion had received a full report on the day's activities - of this fact he was certain - sentence had been carried out. Yeshua was dead. This was an indisputable reality.
The Roman province of Syria included Judea and the surrounding area. At the time of Yeshua, the Judean homeland was officially part of Syria. The famous Legion X Fretensis, one of Caesar’s legions, kept the peace in the province at that time. This legion along with the Fifth Macedonian would crush the Jewish revolt a few decades later. It can be argued that the seeds of freedom that Yeshua planted took some time to germinate and that the Jewish revolt in 70 CE was caused decades before by Yeshua. Nonetheless, the message was misunderstood by the zealots but that did not matter now. At this moment, the mechanism of Roman efficiency who went by the name of Centurion Marcus had assured Procurator Pilate with a simple nod that the sentence had been carried out with Roman gravitas.
Pilate, at first, had resented being assigned to this wasteland. He saw Syria and in particular, Judea as a punishment. It was off the beaten track. There was no glory to be had in this backwater. But if he were to benefit from this at all, he had to govern well. If he can pull off governing this quagmire, he would return his career to the Senatorial track he longed for. To return to Rome in triumph! – but for now, he must govern the quagmire. Being the administrative commander of Syria and also the Tenth Legion also had its perks. The Roman system ensured that a proper leader and his administrators could leave the province personally enriched, if he governed well. He personally saw that Rome received its prescribed talents of gold and wheat. Anything over those mandatory amounts he would be able to keep, within reason. Of course, he would have to share part of the manufactured wealth with the Legate, who in turn meted out smaller shares to his junior officers and so forth. Such was the system of Rome’s military patronage. It has been that way since the first walled cities were created - since the first humans agreed to live together in villages.
Pontius Pilate was from a respected Roman family. The Pontii were from the equestrian class which meant that while they were not among the elite senators, they were far better off than the Plebeians. The Pontii villa was prosperous, possessing many slaves and producing agricultural products sold profitably in Rome. Pontius Pilate was the family's greatest hope to enter the senatorial ranks. If Pilate could distinguish himself in the military while he was stationed in Judea, he might enter that august body by appointment. But first, he had to demonstrate his worthiness.
Pilate coolly eyed Joseph, who did not wither under the intense scrutiny, but he returned the stare with audacity and bravado. Joseph knew he was on the side of righteousness. Even if it cost him his life, he was doing what he knew to be right. When a person has this kind of conviction, she or he fears not death but greets death with determined fervor, willing to accept whatever destiny meted out. In his mind, Joseph had acted without courage during the time of Yeshua’s death. Now was the time to try to redeem himself - at least assuage his guilt in his conscience. Joseph’s forty-two years were distinguished by moments like this. It was a miracle he was still in the Sanhedrin. He took chances that most people avoided at all costs. He backed underdogs. He helped the poor. He invested in risky ventures. But he always tried to act in the manner he thought to be correct – even at great cost. He had distinguished himself amongst his peers in the Sanhedrin. Circumstances have proven him to be on the right side, that is until the night before. He did not fight for Yeshua. He wielded no sword of justice. Like the other cowards he accused himself of being, he had hung back in the shadows. Joseph had known mostly victories in his life. Except for this day, there was only defeat. The day was the most bitter of his life. This was worse than the agonizing stillbirth of a son a decade ago. He had lost the fire he had once possessed. This was defeat. Now he could only sweep up the tattered remains and burying Yeshua would be the only honorable deed left for him to accomplish.
Pilate was amused. He had seen this kind of impudent determination before in the eyes of savage barbarians as they prepared for a suicidal charge against the heavily armored Roman Legions. The outcome was assuredly self-destruction. Death by Roman Legion. However, Pilate was prepared to be generous, after all, three had already died on this occasion by his word. He did not need the death of a member of the Sanhedrin on this day to add to the list. “What will you do with the body of the King of the Jews?” He asked not out of fear but precaution. He had seen what martyrs could do to stir people up. Pilate did not sense that an army was gathering to overthrow the Tenth. But martyrs could stir up riots and unruly assemblies. If word got back to Rome, he would not profit from it. Joseph did not seem like the zealot type.
“I would bury him, Prefect. Do not worry, there is no rebellion to stir up. Yeshua's kingdom is not of this world. Rome never had anything to worry about." At this, Pilate raised his right eyebrow. Joseph admitted with undisguised regret, "I was one of his disciples. Our cause died today.” It was the first time he had used the word “disciple” in reference to himself. People usually associated the term with Peter, John, James, and the small cadre of women, Mary Magdalene and the sisters of Lazareth – Mary and Martha – but not with him.
“You? My sources did not have you on the list of his disciples. Are you not one of the Great Sanhedrin?” questioned Pilate whose curiosity was piqued. Jesus’ disciples were, for all intents and purposes, disbanded. His reports stated that Yeshua’s followers had gone the way of the politically defeated - into irrelevance. Only a few attended the execution. The rest had fled. The movement should be as dead as a serpent with its head cut off. The Yeshua movement was over once and for all, Pilate thought as he assayed Joseph’s intentions. He seemed harmless enough.
“I am a member of the Sanhedrin, though I do not know for how much longer. I merely wish to bury a man, whom I respected, admired, and came to love. He will share my family’s tomb. I will seal it. You need not worry. I have no false purposes.” All the fight and debate had left Joseph when Yeshua was crucified. Joseph was a defeated man who did not know what the next day would bring. But he was certain that his days in Judea would be short. He did not know where he would go, but go, he would - far, far away he would flee. Or he would die.
With Joseph’s admission of self-defeat, Pilate called for a scribe and dictated in Latin. The scribe transcribed Pilate’s words in Latin, Greek, and Aramaic. He was the same scribe who wrote the placard that was nailed to Yeshua’s cross. Plate said magnanimously, “Take him and bury him, Joseph. Your petition has been granted. Be sure that your actions bring no exacerbation to this matter.”
Joseph glumly replied, “There will be none. He’s dead and gone.” With Pilate’s decree releasing Yeshua’s corpse clutched firmly in his hand, Joseph quickly departed from the environs of Roman authority. He had obtained the proper dispensation. Joseph of Arimathea would be granted the body and the earthly possessions of Jesus of Nazareth.
2. Francios Lucard and Gretchen Hoeffer
The museum has had a violent history but it has always been a focal point for those who loved history and art. Like many buildings in Berlin, the Kaiser-Friedrich-Museum suffered the ravages of the Second World War. In the closing days of the war, some seven hundred paintings and sculptures that were housed and stored by the museum were burned, and some were lost. In 1956, the museum was rebuilt and renamed The Bode. It was a place of particular pleasure for Francios Lucard who frequented the museum when he made his numerous business trips to Berlin. Francios had inherited wealth, and he had multiplied his family’s fortune many times over through luck and audacity in times of world economic woes. He also had a penchant for risk-taking and betting on longshots which often paid off for him. Monsieur Lucard had a keen eye for the beautiful - beautiful architecture, beautiful art, and beautiful people. At The Bode, he discovered all three. He came to admire the building which was constructed at the turn of the century. He immersed himself in its handsome art collection, and he had gradually fallen in love with one of the museum's handsome curators, Gretchen Hoeffer. In the beginning, it would have been difficult for him to say which attracted him to the Bode more - its architecture or its collection. However, when the two were combined with his discovery of Gretchen, the combination of the three became irresistible. Gretchen’s intellect was obvious to anyone after a few minutes of meeting her. Her captivating interest when she asked a question demonstrated that she was genuinely interested in what the person had to say. When Gretchen met Francios, her athletic physique which tended toward an attractive plump matched her nimble mind. Francois and Gretchen’s mutual love for art and jazz was accompanied by a gradually growing appreciation for each other. At the time of their meeting, both were in their early forties; both had families, whom they loved dearly; and both were committed to collecting and preserving art which they often pursued together. They were ideal partners in art collecting on the account of their similar tastes and sense of history. Sometimes, they acquired pieces for the museum. Sometimes, they bought for Lucard’s private collection. This love affair persisted after she retired from The Bode and lasted until she died in her late seventies.
The acquisitions in Lucard’s private collection were the envy of many museums. Some wealthy collectors entrusted trained art dealers to acquire valuable pieces, not trusting their own eye. They wanted to possess the aesthetic but did not trust their senses to perceive it. But not Lucard. He collected the pieces himself and later, with Gretchen. His discernment was keen and rarely deceived. He knew what he liked, and what he liked was the depth of inherent quality, like the sound of a rich cello played by a master, the silkiness of rich cream, or the bronze luster of dusk. At the end of his ninety-plus years, his personal collection was among the best in the world. He, with the help of Gretchen, had purchased crumbling castles, decaying monasteries, and venerable but rotting historical buildings, in order to restore them to their splendor. When he purchased the old architectural structures, he also acquired their long-ignored, and hopelessly cluttered basements and attics. Most of this clutter turned out to be garbage; however, occasionally, it turned out to be a long-forgotten treasure. Some of these treasures were purposefully hidden on the account of the two world wars of the twentieth century. These sequestered art treasures were often forgotten because their owners had met with premature and violent ends. Francios and Gretchen’s quests had led them to some incredible discoveries like an unknown work of Renee Magritte stored alongside a painting by Andre Breton. The two artists must have painted them together in the early days of their friendship before they became world-famous. Francois and Gretchen frequently discovered wonderful pieces to add to his exquisite anthology of art and history. Francois said to Gretchen when they uncovered the Magritte treasure, “But it’s nothing compared to you, my dear.” This phrase from the discovery of the Magritte became their signature expression upon discovery. Sometimes it was uttered by Francois, other times by Gretchen.
On one such acquisition about a dozen years after their first meeting, Francois consulted Gretchen regarding a large, decrepit building in Nice, on the Mediterranean coast of France that was first constructed over 150 years ago and had been renovated in spurts throughout the years. Such renovations often left awkward crevices, hidden closets, and abandoned attics, long closed off from the rest of the structure and long forgotten. These were excellent hiding places for valuables and for people in times of trouble. In this building, a Jewish family had sequestered themselves and had successfully evaded the Vichy regime and the Nazis for a number of years, but they were eventually discovered. The family was carted away to a camp, never to return. Their possessions were taken by those who had access. The Nazis took the most obvious items: a few paintings which hung on the walls, their silverware, and jewelry. They had more possessions at the beginning but used much of it to buy food and supplies through a generous and loving friend. Afterward, household items were taken by others, mostly neighbors, who used these items for their survival. After a short time, the attic where they had hidden themselves was stripped bare; and after the war, it was hastily forgotten. Who would want to remember such horrible events and times?
Francios and Gretchen became interested in the building upon learning about its history and he had the means to restore such places. This would be the first time he would restore a building that had a street-level commercial space with multiple upper levels of storage and living quarters, common in the construction style of that era. Previously he had restored castles, churches, and monasteries along with their works of art. Upon the purchase of this building, Francios and Gretchen wanted to explore the depths of the building. They donned rugged clothing and crawled through passages that had not seen sunlight since they were constructed. They pried open walls to discover rooms that had been walled off during an old renovation. In one of the closets, they noticed a panel that was not quite square. Francois eagerly jabbed the chisel edge of the crowbar into the seam and pushed and pulled. In his fifties, Francois was still strong and vigorous, but such exertions also tired him quickly. His love for wine accompanied by a generous plate of sliced apples and cheese replaced his desire for exercise, and as a result, he quickly grew winded when applying himself physically. When Gretchen added her hands to Francios’ exertions, the seam gave way with one final push, and they both fell into the hidden room.
“Turn the flashlight back on,” suggested Gretchen, as Francois groped in the dark trying to find it. They were both crawling around feeling their way and bumped into unseen crates and objects until Gretchen stumbled upon the flashlight and turned it on.
As Gretchen panned the light around the room, they caught flashes of paintings and objects which captivated their eyes. They had not dared to utter even a whisper as if they feared disturbing the hidden inhabitants. They had discovered the Jewish family’s hidden wealth. The trinkets, with which they used to barter and survive the dark days of hiding, were inconsequential when compared to the treasures they had sequestered here. Upon closer inspection, they had uncovered the names of several families that were etched onto the crates which contained sculptures, tapestries, paintings, and other large items, not easily transportable like jewelry, silver, or gold. Some of these crates belonged to other Jewish families but certainly not all. The Nazis were known looters of the fine arts. Many wealthy Jewish and non-Jewish families had hidden their treasures from the Nazis and from the destruction of war, awaiting for peace to return to the insane world. These pieces were priceless works long thought to have been destroyed by the war which had ravaged so many people and so many possessions.
Upon one of their explorations of this hidden cove, they had strung up a strong lamp. However, Francois accidentally tripped over a low, heavy crate that was half-hidden in a long shadow cast by their lamp’s beams of obscenely glaring shafts. Francois picked himself up and hefted the surprisingly heavy box into the light so that he and Gretchen could examine it more closely. He gingerly opened the box and discovered silver and gold coins from multiple countries which enveloped a smaller box. However, this smaller carton was ornately decorated and was roughly 30 by 20 centimeters or twelve by eight inches. When Francios and Gretchen eagerly opened the smaller box, their heightened expectations were dashed. The contents contained only some old metallic objects wrapped in some cloth. The fact that it was here meant that it was of some value to the previous owner, but neither the practiced eyes of Francois nor Gretchen could detect its value nor their function. The objects were foreign to their minds. They put the ornate box aside without further thought and focused on the cache of gold and silver coins they had just unearthed. These coins were worth a literal fortune. Francois then reached out for Gretchen’s hand and lightly kissed it as said, “But it’s nothing compared to you, my dear.”
The Jewish family, who had hidden in that building, had no surviving relatives. Gretchen and Francios returned the content of the crates to the families whose names were etched onto the crates - after careful research to verify ownership. This process took years, but the families were grateful for Francois and Gretchen’s generosity and benevolence in returning lost family treasures. Most of the descendants were unaware that their family had even owned such items. Francois and Gretchen could have easily kept all the pieces for themselves, and no one would have been the wiser. To the families who had no survivors, they kept some of the pieces privately, but the lion’s share of it went to The Bode. However, the unclaimed art and valuables which were previously owned by Jewish families did not go to The Bode because they had been tainted with blood. The directors of The Bode thought that the perception of displaying Jewish-owned artwork that had been hidden during the Holocaust in a museum in Berlin would not only be inappropriate - it would be deemed offensive. Even though The Bode had zero connection to the Holocaust, the perceived connection would not be fitting for the museum. These “Juden-owned treasures” were tainted by blood and were beyond redemption by a German museum, no matter how innocently acquired.
Francois and Gretchen had several times turned their attention to the ornate box that Francois had tripped over, but they could perceive little of value. They thought it would be better to let the historians at The Bode examine it, but neither placed much priority on shipping such a mundane item, so the small box never made it to The Bode’s scholars. After Gretchen’s passing, Francois forgot all about it. The box continued its unappreciated existence for years, resting in Francois’ massive art storage complex. Eventually, the forgotten box was mistakenly shipped to America as part of a loan of paintings and sculptures to the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D. C. When the box arrived in America, it was shuffled into an unused corner where materials from the Bode were kept until they were packed up and shipped to their next location. However, the curious little box never left that dusty corner of the Hirshhorn. It had not been repacked and shipped with the rest of the loaned exhibit. No one missed it because it had never been officially listed on the packing statements and declarations, nor did it appear on any of the all-important insurance forms. The box rested in that corner forgotten for decades, although it was clearly marked as belonging to The Bode.
At the end of his life, Francios Lucard willed his family fortune to his grateful, but expectant son, Louie. Francios’ wife had passed some years before, leaving Louie as the principal heir. However, his art collection, Francios bequeathed to The Bode Museum. He also included a gift of German stocks that would fund the building of a new wing in the museum named the Lucard-Hoeffer Collection which would house their acquisitions. Louie Lucard didn’t mind because he never shared his father’s passion for art and didn’t want to be responsible for the expense of their upkeep which included security, insurance, and ideal environmental conditions such as temperature, humidity, and exposure to light. He would have sold off the pieces had the collection been left to him. So Louie graciously did not have his army of attorneys contest the artwork going to a museum. The Bode Museum was only too happy to take on these concerns for the new additions. Francios and Gretchen’s mutual labor of love would live beyond their mortal existence and be appreciated by many generations after their passing. The phrase, “But it’s nothing compared to you, my dear” was etched in stone above the entryway into the Lucard-Hoeffer wing of the museum, just as it was stipulated by Francois’ instructions.
