He recovered 43 leaves and, in a discussion with the monastery's librarian at the time, learned that two basket loads of similar waste paper had already been burned in the monastary's furnace. What Tischendorf had found were portions of an Old Testament Bible, dating back to sometime around the year 340.

As you might imagine, this was the biblical scholar's equivalent of catching Mark McGwire's record-setting home run ball, when McGwire broke Roger Maris' 61 home runs in a single season record, a record that stood for almost 40 years. Sadly, McGwire later admitted to mainlining the androgenic steroid Androstenedione during that record-breaking year. But that's another story.

Like a record-setting baseball, the leaves belonging to this most-ancient of Bibles were eminently collectable. Tischendorf started the collection process by whisking away his 43 leaves, bringing them back to Europe. Tischendorf must not have had much of a poker face, because when he later found another 80 or so leaves, the monks in the monastery declined to let him have them, or even see them.

Adventurous Tischendorf returned to the monastery in both 1853 and 1859, but no Biblical joy was to be had. The monks were now wise to his game. Strangely, though, just as he was about to leave the monastery empty-handed, he got into a discussion with the steward of monastery. Tischendorf showed this steward a newly published copy of his Septuagint, a Greek translation of the old Testament.

In a wacky, biblical game of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," the steward whipped out his own copy of the Septuagint. The monastery's steward had produced a heap of loose leaves, wrapped in cloth, that turned out to be not only the remaining pages of the Old Testament, but an entire New Testament as well, all dating back to the year 340 or so.

At first, Tischendorf tried to talk the monk out of his collection. Then, he attempted to buy it. When neither of these approaches worked, he left, determined to negotiate a deal for the document.

If you thought this tale had it all: Mount Sinai, the Burning Bush, hidden Bibles, and both Roger Maris and Mark McGwire, it gets better. Now, we're going to mix in a Csar of Russia and, soon, Stalin's U.S.S.R. This is a heck of a story. And yes, we'll be talking about photography soon. I promise.

Our friend Tischendorf was quite determined to get his hands on that manuscript. Back in Cairo, Tischendorf managed to locate the Superior of the monastery (basically, the monk the monks reported to). Silver-tongued devil that he was, Tischendorf managed to talk the Superior into letting him have access to the leaves in Cairo.

Every few weeks, Tischendorf was given a few more leaves to copy and then return. Clearly, this wasn't what Tischendorf wanted and since going to the boss worked once, he decided to go for broke.

Back in the U.S.S.R.
It all begins to come together when you understand that the monks were part of the Greek Church, and, at that time, the "protector" of the Greek Church was the Csar of Russia. It seems the unassuming monks of St. Catherines wanted to some say over who became the next Archbishop. Since the Csar had considerable influence in the election of said Archbishop, a deal was struck. The Csar (and Tischendorf) got the leaves and the monks got their influence. The monks also managed to score some 9,000 rubles and some "decorations" as well -- as part of a counter-gift dictated by the "customs" of the time.