Conclave

by Robert Harris

“The Pope had doubts about God?” “Not about God! Never about God!” And then Bellini said something Lomeli would never forget. “What he had lost faith in was the Church.”

“Well, Eminence,” said the Secretary of the College, O’Malley, in his Irish accent. “I’d say this is a pretty fair vision of hell.” “Don’t be blasphemous, Ray,” replied Lomeli. “Hell arrives tomorrow, when we bring in the cardinals.”

What an extraordinary variety of races they represented—what a testament to the breadth of the Universal Church that men born so different should be bound together by their faith in God!

Leave it to God, my friend. If it’s His will, it will happen; if not, not.”

“But I’m not merely God’s passive instrument, Jacopo. I have some say in the matter. He gave us free will.” He lowered his voice so that the others couldn’t hear. “It’s not that I want it, you understand? No sane man could possibly want the papacy.”

The vulgar always assumed it was best to try to know everything; in his experience it was often better to know as little as possible.

Tell them that I stand for respecting other faiths, and for tolerating differing views within our own Church. Tell them I believe the bishops should have greater powers and that women should play more of a role within the Curia—”

God’s gift to the Church is its variety: some are created by Him to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and others teachers, who ‘together make a unity in the work of service, building up the body of Christ.’ They make a unity in the work of service.

In other words, we should have no fear of diversity, because it is this variety that gives our Church its strength.

“My brothers and sisters, in the course of a long life in the service of our Mother the Church, let me tell you that the one sin I have come to fear more than any other is certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance.

Even Christ was not certain at the end. ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachtani?’ He cried out in His agony at the ninth hour on the cross. ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty, and if there was no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith.

“Let us pray that the Lord will grant us a Pope who doubts,

Conclave. From the Latin, con clavis: “with a key.” Since the thirteenth century, this was how the Church had ensured its cardinals would come to a decision. They would not be released from the chapel, except for meals and to sleep, until they had chosen a Pope.

“Any man who is truly worthy must consider himself unworthy. Isn’t that the point you were making in your homily? That without doubt there can be no faith? It resonated with my own experience. The scenes I witnessed in Africa especially would make any man sceptical of God’s mercy.”

Without turning to look at her, Lomeli said firmly, “Would you be so good as to leave us now, Sister Agnes?” And only when she dared to protest again did he at last swing round and give her a look of such freezing authority that even she, before whom three Popes and at least one African warlord had quailed, bowed her head and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Ok this scene convinced me that Ralph Fiennes is perfect for the role, even if Jacopo Lomeli became Thomas Lawrence.

Was it really possible that he had spent the past thirty years worshipping the Church rather than God?

“No one who follows their conscience ever does wrong, Your Eminence. The consequences may not turn out as we intend; it may prove in time that we made a mistake. But that is not the same as being wrong. The only guide to a person’s actions can ever be their conscience, for it is in our conscience that we most clearly hear the voice of God.”

You might also point out that God is not to be rushed simply to suit the convenience of CNN.”

A line of Kant’s came into his mind: Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made…The Church was built of crooked timber—how could it not be? But by the grace of God it fitted together. It had endured two thousand years; if necessary it would last another two weeks without a Pope. He felt suffused by a deep and mysterious love for his colleagues and their frailties.

I am what God made me, Your Eminence. It seemed to me more of a sin to correct His handiwork than to leave my body as it was.