| Fact or
  Fiction?
 A Review of The Da Vinci Code
 NO QUESTION
              ABOUT IT, Dan Brown’s best-seller The Da Vinci Code is
              a page-turner. This adeptly woven yarn, like his previous one,
              Angels & Demons,
              was ideally composed for commuters who  please note  open
              and close their books often. More about that later. 
 
 
 
                |  
  Leonardo Da Vinci’s
painting “The Last Supper” has a hidden meaning in
Brown’s novel. 
 
 |  |  But The Da Vinci Code, unlike Angels & Demons, is also a
  tale many Christians find disturbing. In Angels & Demons, the Roman Catholic
  Church is in danger of physical destruction for a few hundred pages, but is
  saved at the end, restoring to readers their cherished worldview. But some
  have expressed concern, even outrage, about the perilous effect The
  Da Vinci Code may have on immature readers and even on the future of the church.
 Whatever one thinks
  about Brown’s literary craftsmanship, he clearly succeeds in creating a captivating
  work of suspense. On the other hand, a crescendo of supposed “facts” about
  the history of the primitive church, long-lived Western myths as well as real
  and bogus esoteric movements are matter-of-factly inserted and provide repeated
  opportunities in which to confuse reality with fiction.
 
 On the cover, The Da Vinci Code is called a novel, but what should
  readers make of Brown’s introductory page titled “Fact” and the lengthy acknowledgements
  that precede his tale and thus set a tone of academic plausibility? Given
  that Brown places these “facts” outside the tale, he is intellectually accountable
  for them, and they deserve more scrutiny and concern than the declaredly 
            fictional portion of the book.
 
 Brown’s character Teabing reveals the source material for The Da
  Vinci Code at the beginning of Chapter 60. One of these, Holy Blood, Holy Grail,
  relies on a huge hoax, well-known to students of esoterica: the Priory of Sion.
  Some critics have exaggerated, in my view, when accusing Brown of plagiarizing
  this work, but it is clear to me that this was his most immediate source of “facts.”
 
 The biggest half-truth on the “Fact” page is the claim that the Priory of
  Sion, centrally featured in the book, exists. There was a Priory of Sion
  order, but it was absorbed into the Jesuits in 1617. It no longer exists, and
  when it did, it was an order of the Roman Catholic Church.
 
 The “Priory” that Brown is
  concerned with in The Da Vinci Code is not of ancient origin but was the invention
  of one Pierre Plantard, a French charlatan who had been sympathetic to Adolf
  Hitler’s Vichy government. The tale is a convoluted one, but in brief, the
  most reliable story is as follows: In 1956, Plantard and a group of friends
  organized his Priory of Sion. Plantard et al forged documents, Les Dossier
  Secrets, in which claims were made about, among other things, a succession
  of “masters” of
  the invented order such as Isaac Newton and Leonardo Da Vinci, in a line extending
  back to 1099. A real crackpot, Plantard planted the forgeries in the Biblioteque
  Nationale in the 1960s to support the myth of his Priory. French journalist
  Jean-Luc Chaumeil exposed the hoax in the 1980s.
 
 Brown’s next comment on the “Fact” page of The Da Vinci Code is a blurb about 
            Opus Dei, the organization vilified more than any other  real or fictional  in the book.
  As many readers know, this organization does exist, and Brown’s depiction of 
            the group is certainly cause for genuine distress. Opus Dei is a very young 
            organization, founded in Spain in 1928 by a Catholic priest, José María Escrivá. 
            Its membership was and is chiefly drawn from professionals in all walks of life 
            who seek to live by the virtues of the primitive Jesuits, and to convert others 
            by example. Due to Opus Dei’s pro-Franco stance in the 1960s, the organization 
            is often viewed as having an ultraconservative and reactionary social, political
  and religious agenda. But Brown’s sloppiness
  with other facts tips off alert and concerned readers that they should seek
  out more balanced views of Opus Dei.
 
 Brown’s last stated “Fact”  that “all descriptions
  of the artwork, architecture, documents, and secret rituals in the novel are 
            accurate”  should also arouse suspicion. Accurate according
  to which source? The meaning of artwork or architecture depends on interpretation  and
  even then, meaning is not synonymous with truth. To paraphrase Umberto Eco,
  the real master of fiction dealing with esoteric realms, anything that can
  be used to tell the truth can also be used to tell a lie.
 
 After establishing the “factual” foundation for his tale, Brown  through 
            his omniscient narrator and his protagonist Robert Langdon  goes
  on to weave a fictional story that includes a stream of fictional claims about
  Jesus and early Christianity. Like a true conspiracy theorist, Brown arranges 
            myths like pegs in a line that he pulls taut, beginning
  with his particularly bad art criticism, quickly followed up by fallacious
  or academically irresponsible interpretations and juxtapositions of biblical
  and gnostic texts.
 
 What has probably most disturbed sensitive
  readers of The Da Vinci Code is the
  assertion that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married. In order to satisfy my
  own intellectual disquiet regarding Brown’s biggest challenge
  to orthodox thinking, I read a scholarly edition of four gnostic gospels and a 
            treatise on Egyptian gnostic writings by Jean Doresse, who worked with the 
            original texts in the Louvre. While scholars debate whether gnosticism
  arose in the midst of Christianity or tangential to it, the gnostic writings 
            are not part of the biblical canon because they were considered heretical or, 
            at best, unreliable by the Christian church. Even if one were to take the gnostic
  writings as historically authoritative, however, I found no evidence of any 
            allusions in them to a literal relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene.
  Furthermore, it is clear that Brown invents his own context and interpretation 
            for the single verse he lifts from the gnostic Gospel of Philip to assert that 
            Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married. In this case, as in so many other cases, 
            the novel’s plot depends on irresponsible interpretations of the source it cites.
 
 Upon my initial perusal of The Da Vinci Code, I chanced upon Langdon’s interpretation
  of Da Vinci’s painting “The Last Supper.” Langdon accurately observes that it 
            is not a depiction of the moment of the institution of the Eucharist. But instead 
            of using what art historians know and teach  specifically, that the painting represents
  the moment after Jesus reveals that one disciple is about to betray him  Langdon 
            makes one of the most outrageous, and ultimately silly, claims of the book. He 
            says that the figure of John the Beloved is really Mary Magdalene and that Jesus 
            is announcing her apostleship. Then he points out that the letter “M” is discernible 
            around the silhouettes of the figures. Having read that absurdity, I put down 
            the book, and it wasn’t until the controversy about The Da Vinci Code 
            became too hard to ignore that I finally bought it and read it cover to cover.
 
 In the process of reading  and, I’ll admit, enjoying  the novel, 
            the secret of Brown’s ability to churn out page-turners was obvious. As any 
            reader of his books knows, his chapters alternate scenes between groups of 
            characters, are very brief and always end with some unresolved
  question or tense situation. Readers feel compelled to turn the page just to 
            keep the facts together and to find out what will happen next. As the books’ 
            targeted audience, commuters have short spans of time in which to read and, 
            regardless of their critical skills, are less disposed to challenge what is 
            presented as fact. And so it is that Brown’s plots skip like a stone across the 
            surface of the deep waters of history and issues of faith.
 
 Despite its undeniable appeal to readers, The Da Vinci
  Code does not hold up well in an evaluation of the book as literature. 
            Factual errors aside, questions about the novel’s artistry will probably determine 
            whether it will be a classic or a flash in the pan. Unfortunately, undeveloped 
            characters and Nancy Drewlike dialogue are the defining characteristics of the 
            book. Rather than creating a main character with depth and complexity, Brown 
            endows Langdon with heroic stamina more akin to a comic-book superhero than a 
            middle-aged professor. Of course, the slower pace needed for true character development
  might have brought the book’s claims about religious history under closer scrutiny.
 
 So how ought intellectually engaged Christians to approach this book and books 
            like it? First, these works should be recognized as escapist literature and, 
            if read, enjoyed for what they are. On a more positive level, they can facilitate 
            conversations in which the familiar Wesleyan quadrilateral of Scripture, faith, 
            reason and tradition help us make informed judgments.
 
 The Da Vinci Code and books like it challenge
  intellectual and spiritual complacency, forcing us to get the facts. They are
  only dangerous if we remain self-satisfied about the truth. Quite frankly,
  any book is open to the charge that it is in some way perilous to some readers.
  There is danger here, but only if we fail to read critically.
  — BY ERIC VOGT, ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR
    OF FOREIGN LANGUAGESAND 
    LITERATURES
 — PHOTO BY SCALA ART RESOURCE
 
 Editor's Note: The above review was in the printed issue of the Spring 2004 issue of 
Response. To read a more extensive version of this review by Eric 
Vogt, click here.
 
 
 Back to the top
 Back to Faculty
 |  |  
  
  
 From the President
 As today’s opinion-shapers declare the Christian message irrelevant, Seattle
Pacific University President Philip Eaton reminds us: “For two billion
people, the resurrection of Jesus Christ changed everything.”
  “This Is Our Campaign” Creativity and commitment are the hallmarks of faculty contributions, including
    finding precision science equipment and seeking grants. [Campaign]
  Acting on AIDSA student-led campaign encouraging a Christian response to a world pandemic
    had the campus seeing orange. [Campus]
  When Disaster StrikesAs senior development officer for Northwest Medical Teams,
            alumnus Dick Frederick ’63 helps deliver care to those who
            need it most. [Alumni]
 
 Looking Ahead
 Falcon women keep their sights on a national championship after a perfect season
  ends too soon at the Elite Eight. [Athletics]
 
 My Response
 Nicaraguan native Maria Antonia Caldera Hunter ’89 tells of an SPU study
  tour to her homeland that showed her the presence of Christ in unlikely places.
 |  |