Yes, this is relevant to the Shroud of Turin. I’ll get to that.

Dale of Real Seeker Ministries had asked me, by way of a comment—seemingly quite innocently:

“Just a quick question for you Dan and then I won’t respond after your answer since it is not Shroud related. I’m just curious, you seem to advocate for the Christian Universalism position. Do you hold this position because you think that such a position is Biblically consistent to your mind or do you just not care what Scripture says as you deny Biblical inspiration/inerrancy on such issues?”

Ashlee found the comment insulting and said so:

“Hey seekerman, did you just write ‘do you just not care what Scripture says as you deny biblical inspiration/inerrancy on such issues’? I know you addressed this to Dan and I don’t know how he feels, but for some who are universalists like me—we are about half of all Christianity—I am insulted. I do care. Get real.”

Was what Ashlee said so bad? Maybe “get real” was unnecessary. But Dale responded:

“You need to grow up and stop lecturing good Christians like myself who simply ask people questions instead of making hasty false assumptions about others like you just did against me. Jesus is ashamed at you right now for how you treated me. Shame on you, Ashlee.”

Oh?

Dale’s question was directed at me, so let me respond. He had written: “You seem to advocate for the Christian Universalism position.”

I don’t think I advocate for it at all. But if someone believes in universalism and wants to advocate for it, I’m fine with that. As for me, I do sometimes feel that way, though not always. It’s one of those things I wrestle with. I think about it, read about it, pray about it, search the scriptures for guidance, and listen to thoughtful, intelligent sermons. But I don’t advocate for it: I’m not certain, and I’m not qualified to say much.

So when you ask, “Or do you just not care what Scripture says, as you deny Biblical inspiration/inerrancy on such issues?”—I have to say, I’m a bit miffed by your tone. I do care what Scripture says. But it’s not for you to judge me, nor to say how God will judge me. Just who are you, anyway?

I incline toward a hopeful and open form of Christian universalism—not because I dismiss Scripture, but because I interpret it through a broader theological lens: one that includes Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience—what Anglicans call the “three-legged stool” (sometimes expanded to four). I’m an Episcopalian of the Anglo-Catholic variety, part of what some affectionately call the “smells and bells” crowd—meaning we value many of the ancient practices of the Church.

Many in our tradition believe that God’s mercy is not limited to those who profess a particular doctrinal formula. I know this differs from more literalist or inerrantist readings of Scripture, but I don’t think one position is inherently more faithful than another, just rooted in different starting points.

This data is interesting:


Pew Research Center (2021) – U.S. Religious Landscape Study

  • 58% of U.S. Christians believe that many religions can lead to eternal life—not just Christianity.
  • Among mainline Protestants, 66% say non-Christians can be saved.
  • Among Catholics, about 61% agree.
  • Evangelical Protestants show lower support: only 21% say other religions can lead to salvation.

Barna Group (2011)

  • 43% of practicing Christians agreed with the statement: “All people will experience the same outcome after death, regardless of their religious beliefs.”
  • Universalist-leaning views were especially common among Millennials and Gen Z.

Now, let’s pivot for a moment.

Let’s assume—just for the sake of argument—that new C-14 tests definitively show the Shroud of Turin is from the time of Christ.

Now what?

The problem with trying to prove that the Shroud is “authentic” begins with the question: authentic to what? Are we attempting to validate an image? A historical narrative? A theological truth? Can we approach the study of the Shroud without being constrained by religious bias, especially the kind rooted in biblical literalism or strict views of inerrancy?

I may personally believe in a physical resurrection, but I have serious reservations about the open tomb narrative. Many serious scholars argue, based on historical-critical evidence, that the empty tomb accounts are later theological constructions. John Dominic Crossan, who taught for years at DePaul University (a Catholic institution), questioned whether Jesus was even buried.

Others who don’t espouse that theory nonetheless offer highly speculative alternatives. Author and attorney Mark Antonacci has suggested that Jesus exited the tomb through something like a wormhole. Nuclear scientist Bob Rucker has proposed a transition into another dimension. Physicist Frank Tipler, of Tulane University, theorizes that Jesus’ body decayed into neutrinos and antineutrinos, and then—over time—reassembled outside the tomb, consistent with extreme interpretations of quantum theory. John Jackson has floated the idea of a “mechanically transparent” body.

Do we need an open tomb? Crossan imagines Jesus may have been buried in a mass grave. Others don’t go that far, but still question whether the open tomb is a necessary feature of Christian faith.

For the record, I do believe in the open tomb—but I’m also delighted to see so much thought given to the topic. Two authors in particular have opened my mind to more poetic and metaphorical dimensions:

  • Raymond E. Brown, Catholic biblical scholar, whose analysis of the two very different Virgin Birth stories models how deep faith and deep textual awareness can coexist.
  • Hans Küng, the Catholic theologian, whose reflections on the Resurrection invite wonder, mystery, and belief even amid uncertainty.

And if the tomb was open and the body missing, how many burial cloths were there? Maybe none. Maybe many. The Gospels were written decades after the events they describe, and the resurrection accounts are full of contradictions and questionable details.

The default position, à la N.T. Wright or Gary Habermas, is fine—as long as we remain open to other possibilities. Consider also Elaine Pagels, Karen Armstrong, and Marcus Borg—Christian thinkers who have broadened our understanding of early Christian diversity and offered alternative theological frameworks.


What if the Shroud Was a Bier Cloth?

What if the Shroud of Turin wasn’t a burial shroud at all, but a bier cloth?

In Second Temple Judaism, burial was not a one-step event. The body might first be transported in a linen cloth—especially if death occurred shortly before the Sabbath—and later washed and wrapped in clean linen. According to Levitical purity laws, blood and corpse fluids rendered items ritually impure. So the blood-stained cloth might have been removed prior to final burial and, for that reason, preserved.

This would explain why the Shroud contains blood but no signs of decomposition—a forensic detail noted by experts like Pierre Barbet and Frederick Zugibe. It also supports the finding that the bloodstains formed before the image. The image itself may have been the result of continuing later chemical interactions, such as the Maillard reaction, occurring while the cloth was no longer in contact with the body.

In this scenario, the Shroud could have been stored, forgotten, rediscovered, or venerated—without ever having been the final burial wrapping. Its sudden appearance in the 14th century fits better with this theory than with claims of forgery or miraculous preservation.


Faith and Science

Science does not begin with Scripture. It begins with questions—with hypotheses—even ones we may not like.

When it comes to the Shroud, there may be two fundamental questions:

  1. What is it? What are all the possibilities—natural, artistic, devotional, forensic, or miraculous?
  2. How old is it? And if we assume it dates from the time of Christ, how did the image form?

Science proceeds by testing ideas and evaluating evidence. It ends—when it can—with conclusions grounded in logic, method, and repeatability.

After that, we ask: Does this help us understand what happened? And how does that understanding shape, inform, or challenge our beliefs?

Do we refine our theology? Or do we double down on beliefs rooted in literalism and inerrancy?

Can we be honest—with ourselves and with others?


So yes, if one could argue that the Shroud is from the time of Christ, then I do think that a bier cloth is more probable than a burial shroud.

Oh—and yes—I hope for widespread salvation among all of God’s people.

In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh.

Acts 2:17, NRSV

In the meantime, can we talk to each other with a bit more respect—and a little less whack-a-mole theology?