Transcript

Thank you.

Well, as you’ve heard, I was the official documenting photographer for the Shroud of Turin Research Project.

The Shroud of Turin Research Project was the first and only scientific team ever to be given permission to do an in-depth examination of the Shroud of Turin.

Now, I have to tell you that I just finished a six-week lecture tour: three states, twelve cities, twenty-two lectures, all of them two hours or more, and all of them extemporaneous.

I often do eight-hour seminars on the Shroud of Turin, again, no notes, no lecture notes of any kind.

But fifteen minutes is hard, and so you’ll have to forgive me, but there was no way that I could do this.

You know, it’s not hard to get me to start talking, but it’s hard to get me to stop.

So, you’ll forgive me that I brought some notes with me, and I’m going to have to refer to them just so that I stay on time and make sure that I do it correctly.

So there it is, that’s that piece of cloth that got into my life thirty-five years ago.

Well, as a professional photographer, I specialized in scientific, medical, and technical kinds of issues, so I had the skills and the qualifications that were necessary to be a part of the team that examined the Shroud.

But when they first asked me to do this, the first thing I said was, No, no way.

And why did I refuse?

Well, the answer is simple: I was very uncomfortable with the subject matter because I was born and raised in an Orthodox Jewish home.

Now, I want to be clear about that; I am not a practicing Jew at this point in my life, but I was for that first thirteen years.

Both my parents immigrated to America from Poland when they were little kids, just before World War II. So my question, and the question that went through my mind at the time, was: why would a Jewish man want to get involved with what is probably, arguably, the most important relic of Christianity?

At that moment in my life, I couldn’t see any benefit to being involved.

Well, not only that, I was a total skeptic and figured that the Shroud was probably some form of a painting, which was the conventional wisdom in 1978. I fully expected to get to Turin, take a quick look, see the paint and the brushstrokes, and go home.

I even stupidly said that publicly somewhere, and of course, for the last thirty-five years, I’ve been living to regret those words.

Anyway, in the end, I viewed this whole thing—and this is terrible to admit—this close to the Vatican, this was going to be a free trip to Italy.

That’s what I thought.

But you know, my attitude was immature because I was only thirty-two years old at the time.

My son just turned thirty-three, and I’m still waiting for him to grow up, so I can’t even imagine where my head was in those days.

In the end, of course, I did join the team because the image on the Shroud has some fascinating properties that piqued my scientific curiosity.

But I still tried to quit twice.

Again, in fact, as our team grew, a few men from the Jet Propulsion Labs became members of our team.

One of them was a man named Don Lin—may he rest in peace.

Don was an imaging expert from NASA, so he was my hero immediately, and he was the head of imaging on Voyager, Viking, Mariner, and Galileo.

You might have heard of some of them.

So I am pretty sure that any professional photographer, given that opportunity, would have been honored to be a member of that team.

But I remember asking Don at one point during our planning.

We planned for nineteen months before we came to Turin to examine the Shroud.

I remember asking him, I said, Don, what’s a nice Jewish boy like me doing on this team?

And Don, who was a good Catholic, looked me right in the eye and he said, Have you forgotten that the man in question was a Jew?

And I said, No, Don, that’s probably the only thing I knew about Jesus—that he was a Jew.

And then he said—and of course, this is where Don, I think, God was speaking to me through his lips—he looked at me and he said, Oh, so you don’t think God would want one of His chosen people on our team?

And I laughed.

I said, No, Don, I never thought that.

And so then Don gave me what perhaps may be the best advice I’ve ever been given.

He said, Barry, go to Turin, do the best job you can do.

God doesn’t tell us in advance what the plan is, but one day you’ll know.

You know, and on those words, I stayed on that team because truer and more profound words have never been spoken.

Don was right, and I’ve never regretted taking his advice and staying on that team.

Now, the tests we performed went on over the years that we did it, and then evaluated it.

It went on to ultimately prove that the Shroud was not a painting, not a scorch, or not a photograph.

These were the kinds of conventional wisdom things that people had.

And so all the tests that we planned basically were to test for those kinds of things.

At the end of our three years, we published our work in peer-reviewed scientific journals—credible ones, I might add.

Now, with the internet, we have journals where the only thing they review is your check to make sure it clears.

And they’re not exactly a high standard as the ones that we had to deal with.

But ideally, we went there to answer the question: how is the image formed?

That was our primary purpose.

And in the end, however, we could not determine an image formation mechanism that could make an image with the properties on the Shroud of Turin.

Our collective work still forms the primary database of literature that exists in the peer-reviewed science that points to the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin.

However, even with all that, it still took another eighteen years before I was convinced.

I’m not a fast sell.

But in 1995, after years of actual resistance on my part, world-renowned blood expert Dr. Alan Adler, who was truly maybe the foremost blood expert in the world—and also Jewish, I might add—was on the phone with me.

He answered the final question that had kept me from accepting the Shroud as authentic.

I was on the phone with him, and I wasn’t convinced the Shroud was real because the blood on the Shroud is still red, and old blood is supposed to turn black or brown, sometimes just within a matter of hours.

That really stopped me.

Al then looked at me over the phone—he didn’t look at me, but he spoke to me—and he said, Barry, I found this large amount of bilirubin in the blood.

Now, somebody who’s been tortured like Jesus was—beaten the night before in the Garden of Gethsemane, then the next day scourged, and ultimately capped with a crown of thorns, ultimately crucified and speared—people who’ve been tortured that way usually go into shock.

The liver floods the bloodstream with bilirubin, and Al told me that blood of that nature stays red forever.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I realized that the last bit of evidence had come in, and I had no choice but to accept that the Shroud was authentic.

I was a big Arthur Conan Doyle fan when I was young, and I remember Conan Doyle once said, through the lips of Sherlock Holmes, If you eliminate all the possibilities, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, is most likely the truth.

Then I remembered Occam's Razor.

Occam's Razor is that the simplest answer is most likely the correct one.

So I was left with only one conclusion: that this cloth could only be the authentic burial shroud of the historic Jesus.

It was even a surprise to me; I was shocked because after all those years of resistance, you know, you think, Well, I’m finished with this.

That wasn’t to be the case.

Now, over the years, I had noticed—that is, over all those years—I’d noticed that the media reports on the Shroud were often misleading or even completely false.

And I’d been privileged to study it firsthand, and I had access to what I ultimately realized was inside information.

So, I knew the truth about the Shroud, and because of my media experience, I knew better than to believe the nonsense I was reading in the paper.

Now, there were probably a billion people on this planet who had more right to be in that room than I did.

And yet, there I was in 1978, God dragging me kicking and screaming, keeping me on that team.

At that moment in time, I realized that it brought with it a great responsibility.

This privilege I had been given was something of an epiphany because I finally came to realize that I wasn’t in that room for me.

I was in that room for you.

Now I knew the truth about the Shroud and was frustrated because my Christian brothers and sisters were not getting that truth.

To me, all of our team members had always been doing this simply about the truth.

Now, in 1996, I got a phone call, and I apologize to the interpreter—this isn’t in the script.

I got a phone call from a friend, and my friend said, You know that Shroud thing that you’re involved with?

And I said, Yeah, I know that Shroud thing that I’m involved with.

And he said, Well, you know, it turns out that’s a photograph made by Leonardo da Vinci.

Leonardo da Vinci!

And I’m not an expert in history—we had some real historians that we worked with, and I always left it to them.

But I remember saying to him, at first, I thought he was joking, but then I realized he was serious.

So I said, Excuse me, but where did you get that information?

And he said, Well, my wife and I were checking out at the grocery store, and there on one of the counters was a tabloid, The Inquirer.

And I had this epiphany, as I mentioned, and I realized that the public just doesn't have access.

So at that moment in time, I built Shroud.com,

which has since become the oldest, largest, and most extensive resource on the internet.

We just celebrated our seventeenth anniversary, and although that says thirty-eight million, we’re well over four million since I put that slide in this lecture.

So we had our seventeenth anniversary this year, and I also got about, oh, I’m thinking, one thousand emails a day.

Now, some days a little less.

I was on CNN a few weeks ago, and a couple thousand emails came in, so it’s turned into a full-time job.

Anyway, and as a matter of fact, people often say, Hey, you know you're number one on Google, and my answer is always the same: you know, we’re five years older than Google.

Because we are, most importantly, I guess, now I realize that this work is the fulfillment of that obligation that I felt that came with the great privilege that I was given in 1978. And in the end, it’s also become my legacy.

I’ve had a long career and done a lot of stuff, but it’s come and it’s gone; it really means nothing.

And now I’m doing something that, in the end, will live beyond me.

That means my grandchildren maybe can show their grandchildren something their great-grandpa did back in the old days.

Anyway, in 2009, I formed the Shroud of Turin Education and Research Association, or STERA, Inc.

That’s a non-profit organization.

For fourteen years, I supported the website myself and eventually got to a point where I needed to go non-profit.

I think a lot of people—and I’m going to be candid— a lot of people may have been a little suspicious of my motives.

You know, a Jewish guy, and I’m actually permitted to sell things—photographs of the Shroud.

No offense; I’m not offended by that.

I understand.

And so I formed STERA, Inc.

to help preserve this information, to support the website so that in the future, future researchers will have the opportunity to have access to the materials that we collected, and I’ve collected since.

This way, future research on the Shroud doesn’t have to start from scratch again, and that ensures they’ll remain free to everyone.

Still no advertising on Shroud.com.

Now, there’s our page.

I’m sorry, I’m a little behind.

Now, in case you missed it, that’s the topic I’m supposed to be talking about.

I know it hasn’t seemed like that at all yet.

Now, the problem I have is that I'm not really a scientist myself; I’m a technical photographer, so I cannot speak for the world of science in general in addressing this issue.

Although I personally believe—and this is my personal point of view—that science is simply man's attempt to understand God's creation; that's the way I see it.

So, in this particular lecture, I can only share my personal point of view with you about this specific project.

And that’s how I used to look.

Notice that there was a lot more hair—well, I still have a lot; it’s just slid down the back a bit, and it has changed color a tad.

So I can start by telling you that, first of all, the Church was very gracious from the first day and in no way interfered with our scientific work.

They even allowed us to own and keep the data we collected, which is why I’m permitted to make copies and make photographs of the Shroud available.

But the STURP team member who really put it into the right words was Dr. John Heller, also gone now.

He put it far more eloquently in his 1983 book about our team, and I’m just going to quote him.

He said, Though it was believed that there would be a confrontation between science and religion, none occurred.

Rather, the relationship was harmonious and synergistic.

So, there was never a conflict between our team and the authorities in Turin or faith in general.

Now, I’m sure that’s an important part of why our team, in the end, was so successful.

Now, in the end, however, I consider myself kind of a living example of religious freedom in scientific research.

In my thirty-five-year involvement with the Shroud, I’ve always been treated with great respect by not only Christians, but Muslims and Jews alike.

All have shown an understanding and a consideration of my position—somewhat unique, I might add.

And even the atheists and skeptics that I often debate on TV shows and radio shows show a grudging respect for me.

I guess they have come to understand that I’m only telling the truth.

Ironically, I now teach a course at the Athenaeum.

Imagine that—a Jewish man teaching future priests about the Shroud of Turin!

Thanks, Father Gera; I know you’re out there somewhere—the man who organized this event.

Although he did come to my house and spend three days there checking me out, I’m sure he did, and you can ask him later.

Anyway, but the story doesn’t really end there.

Shortly after building the website and stating publicly that I believed the Shroud was authentic based on the scientific evidence, people started asking me a new question.

And you know what that question was?

What do you believe?

They were asking about my faith.

Well, at age fifty, I was forced for the first time as an adult to confront my own beliefs about God.

I’d walked away from Judaism when I was thirteen.

That’s me—that’s my bar mitzvah picture, you know, the one that mothers hang on their walls to this day.

Fifty-five years later, it’s still hanging on my mother’s wall.

But at age thirteen, I walked away from Judaism and never looked back.

God was not a part of my life; I never even thought about religion.

Now, at age fifty, I was being forced to confront that which I had avoided most of my adult life.

I was raised in a very traditional Orthodox Jewish home—both my parents born in Poland, grandparents lived with us, two sets of dishes, two sets of silverware—Orthodox Jewish home.

And so I had to look in my own heart for the first time.

I had rejected all that before, but I did look into my heart, and to my shock, I found that God had been there all along, just waiting for me to look and acknowledge Him.

So with that knowledge, I rediscovered my own faith.

It only took, what, fifty years?

Better late than never, I guess.

And it’s still hard for me to believe that thirty-five years have passed, and now I’m called an expert on the Shroud of Turin.

How did that happen?

This was not my idea.

I didn’t decide to do this.

Like I said earlier, I was dragged along kicking and screaming; I didn’t want to do this.

And yet, here I am, I’m standing in the Vatican addressing this audience—unbelievable!

Of course, over the years, the Shroud has brought me to places I never thought I would be.

Last year, I lectured on the Shroud of Turin in the little village in Poland where my mother was born.

Now ironically, that little village in Poland has this little Catholic church, and my mother left at age seven.

When I asked her before I went to that village to kind of find my roots, I said, What do you remember of that village?

And that little girl—that little Jewish girl—her fondest recollection of the little village of Wiśnice in Poland was the Catholic church that was down by the river.

So last year, I lectured in that church and called her.

I said, Where do you think I am?

She said, You're in Poland.

I said, No, but where specifically?

Well, I don't know.

I said, I'm in that little church that you remember.

What an awesome opportunity!

And yet, none of that could have happened if it weren't for the Shroud of Turin.

Later this year, I'm going to make my first trip to Jerusalem.

Now, for years, my friends and colleagues have all said to me, Barry, when are you going to go to Israel?

And my answer has always been the same: if God wants me to go, He'll arrange it.

Well, ironically, I'm going to jump ahead.

Ironically, guess who’s the one who arranged it?

Now, isn't it ironic for a Jew to go to the Holy Land for the first time in his life, and it's arranged by a Catholic priest?

Well, not just any Catholic priest—that one!

So I'm really honored to be a part of that, and Father Guerra is my friend and my brother and is responsible for bringing me here.

Now, I truly believe that only God would think to choose a Jewish man who had no emotional attachment to Jesus, who was a total skeptic, and with a pretty negative attitude, I might add, and put him on that team.

Now, ironically, I’d learned as a child that the Jews were a chosen people.

I've heard that since I was a little kid.

I never felt very chosen, but now I do—because of the Shroud.

For the first time in my life, I get it.

And yet, all God asked me to do—and it was very simple—was tell the truth, Barry.

Now, if God had said to me, Barry, go out and make up stories to convince people that the Shroud's authentic, I would have failed.

In Vancouver, British Columbia, two years ago, a gentleman came up after one of my lectures—one of my extemporaneous two-hour lectures, I might add.

He looked me right in the eye and said, Mr. Schwartz, that was a great lecture, you know, but you’ll never convince me.

I looked him right in the eye and I said, What makes you think I even care what you believe?

That’s between you and God.

Take it up with Him.

And so that’s when I realized that the idea of trying to convince people is not a good idea.

Now, I’m sure in the early days I probably tried, but now I just put the facts out there and let people decide for themselves.

Now, I usually end my lectures by answering the question that I posed kind of at the beginning: what’s a Jewish man like me doing involved with the most important relic of Christianity?

Why?

Well, it took me a long time to figure out the answer, but now it’s obvious: God wanted me to do it.

Isn’t it funny how God always seems to pick a Jew to be the messenger?

I’m the messenger.

So with that thought, all I can say is: how many Jews can claim that it was the Shroud of Turin that brought them back to their faith in God?

I can!

So with that, all I can say is: if I’m not an example of religious freedom and scientific research, I don’t know what is.

Thank you!

Thank you, Barry!

Thank you, Barry!