What is truth? That’s the question the Roman governor Pilate asked of Jesus 20 centuries ago. His was the voice of the agnostic skeptic, who dared to utter such words while staring the son of God in the face. Truly, there is nothing new under the sun, as the writer of Ecclesiastes once said. Today, the latest voice to ask the question is Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code. But he is not the only one; so is Michael Baigent. Just in time for Easter season, Harper Book Publisher released Baigent’s new work entitled The Jesus Papers: Exposing the Greatest Cover-Up in History. This is not Baigent’s first attempt at selling the conspiracy theory theme: Some 20 years ago, he and Richard Leigh wrote Holy Blood, Holy Grail, in which they suggested that Jesus had sired a child by Mary Magdalene. The Jesus Papers goes one further: Its pages speculate that Jesus did not die on the cross, but remained alive and was spirited away to recuperate. Jesus was seen again a decade later — so goes the theory — teaching mystical lore of the kind that will be reflected in the heretical gospels.

The timing of Baigent’s book is perfect: It coincides with the conclusion of a courtroom trial in London against Brown, his competitor in the Jesus conspiracy theory business. The British judge actually ruled against Baigent in his claim of plagiarism in The Da Vinci Code, but this matters little. The important thing is that now Baigent can ride the financial coattails of Brown’s book and its blockbuster success (46 million sold worldwide; No. 3 on USA Today’s best-selling books list). I truly am beginning to believe in conspiracies: conspiracies to make money in the name of Jesus. And now the National Geographic channel is joining the fray, as it has been selling hard its special on the latest alternative gospel, the one by Judas.

The timing for any version of a pseudo-history of Christ is perfect for another reason: The movie version of the Brown novel — a Sony Pictures production starring Tom Hanks and directed by Ron Howard — came out May 19, and the hype in the media reached the level of a thundering herd. Interestingly enough, the posters advertising the celluloid version of The Da Vinci Code show a smiling Mona Lisa above the simple line: “Seek the Truth.”

Let me be clear about one thing: Brown has written an engaging mystery novel, indeed a riveting one. It’s a page-turner you can’t put down. I knew that much when I saw my 19-year-old son devour it in the back seat of our van on a long journey to Oklahoma in the summer of 2004. Engaging? The questions on topics of art, history and theology kept pouring at me from that same back seat for hours. Brown has figured us postmodern readers out: We have short attention spans, so he writes short chapters that have teasers or lead-ins to the next, and then the next. More importantly, he has also learned that we love a good conspiracy, in the vein of Oliver Stone. But this one is not about JFK, it is about Jesus of Nazareth.

Seek the truth. Now exactly how much truth is in Brown’s novel? Is not a novel fiction by definition? Yes, but the author keeps confusing us, probably intentionally. On his Web site, and in interviews, he paints his work both ways, supposedly theories couched within a historical novel. One of the many problems is that it is hardly historical at all, in every sense of the word. It is not good church history (see his take on Constantine and the Council of Nicea), it is not good secular history (what did Clement V do to the Templars?), and it is not good art history.

Take, for example, the art history component of the book: He plays fast and loose with so many details that one can hardly keep up. How many glass panes are there in reality in the I.M. Pei glass pyramid of the Louvre? Are we to take seriously his play on words on the “fleur-de lis” symbol? Any Renaissance art history course will have him discover that most Last Supper scenes of the 15th and 16th centuries have a young, unbearded (and therefore more feminine) figure lying in Jesus’ lap. If Leonardo was part of a secret society trying to cover up a great secret, then many other artists were in on the secret, as well. That figure is John, not Mary Magdalene, as Leonardo himself would have verified. The list of inaccuracies goes on and on.

The point is that if Brown is found to “fudge” on the small things, he will be less than truthful on the big ones, as well, such as his take on Jesus having a girlfriend and a progeny that speaks French. The writer may have been counting on a contemporary reader who, because he or she is less informed about church history and art history, would not be able to unravel the tapestry of far-out interpretations and out-right fabrications set within a few strands of actual truth. Maybe he was banking on many Christians having a feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but not being able to put their thumb on it.

Are we 21st century believers easier to dupe than our forefathers in the faith? I am impressed with the ability of the early church fathers to sort out the truth among the many heresies. They placed those many heretical gospels (Judas, Thomas, etc.) in the trash heap of history not because they were on a power trip but because they were able to distinguish between the real thing and a truly bad parody of truth. The Da Vinci Code could be said to be the latest version of a Gnostic gospel: Call it Heresies-R-Us. There is truly nothing new under the sun: The movie will be selling an old lie, repackaged in a 20th century medium, film.

Many called for a boycott. The Vatican has come out swinging, and evangelical voices are clamoring, as well. I understand the rage: This is not just entertainment. The Da Vinci Code is selling ideas. Whether you call it fiction or you call it (unsubstantiated) theory, it is blasphemous of God and His Son.

We need to meet this latest challenge to our faith head on. We need to teach classes on church history, on the Gnostic gospels, on the development of the canon. We need to help all believers, young and old, meet Brown in the marketplace of ideas and help them to challenge his theories, and his claim to truth.

Recognize him for what he is: He’s just another Pilate.

TERRY EDWARDS is a professor of Bible and humanities at Freed-Hardeman University and preaches for the Bethel Springs, Tenn., church. He lived in Italy and Greece for 26 years and teaches courses in Renaissance Art, the New Testament World and the Life of Paul. He and his wife, Kimberly, have six children and one grandchild.