The Secret Cardinal

by Tom Grace

  The cardinals, all robed in scarlet, clustered in small groups admiring the paintings and discussing in low tones the needs of the Church or the merits of various papabili. Cardinal Magni sat with a small group of Italian cardinals, among them Cardinal Gagliardi. Considered a papabile before cardiac problems effectively eliminated him from consideration, the gregarious cardinal from Palermo still carried a strong voice in Italy and throughout Europe.

  A handful of Latin American cardinals gathered around Escalante, while Ryff, Oromo, and Velu moved among the other electors renewing acquaintances. Donoher sensed that alliances were forming—some geographic, others strategic, but all with the same purpose.

  As he sipped an espresso, Donoher considered the unusual politics involved in electing a pope. An aspirant for the papacy does not openly run for the position as does a politician seeking a publicly elected office. Also, the fine art of backroom deal-making, of granting concessions and promises in exchange for votes, was a practice prohibited under pain of immediate excommunication. Further reducing such temptation—as if the loss of one’s soul to eternal damnation was not enough—the Apostolic Constitution nullified all such agreements, freeing the new pope from any negotiated commitments made to secure his election. Simony simply did not pay.

  Despite the global presence of the Church, the rest of the world played no role in selecting one of the last absolute monarchs, thanks largely to the Austrian emperor Franz Josef. During the 1903 conclave the emperor attempted to exercise the ancient veto right of Catholic monarchs against a cardinal he found politically objectionable. Today, anyone involved with the conclave who attempts to influence the election at the behest of a government would suffer immediate excommunication from the Church.

  Donoher milled about, looking from face to face. Some he knew well, others hardly at all. Some were dear friends, and others he tolerated as a form of penance. Yet soon, one would be the next pope.

  Who among us? Donoher mused. Who among us?

  As the camerlengo considered the upcoming election, Archbishop Sikora approached him. The man seemed to have aged in the days since the pope’s death.

  “Your Eminence, may I have a word with you in private?”

  “Of course, Archbishop. We still have a bit of time before the conclave begins.”

  IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON, the cardinal electors gathered in the Pauline Chapel. They stood beneath the frescoed walls and ceilings robed in formal choir dress. There, in the presence of the cardinals, all those performing supporting roles to the conclave—including the master of papal liturgical celebrations, priest confessors, an ecclesiastic, two masters of ceremonies, medical personnel, and the cooks and house-keepers at Domus Sanctae Marthae—were sworn to preserve the secrecy of the conclave.

  At the appointed hour, a bell was rung and the cardinals proceeded two by two toward the Sistine Chapel. As they walked through the ornate passageways of the Apostolic Palace, the cardinals solemnly invoked the Holy Spirit to guide their deliberations by chanting an ancient hymn.

  Veni Creator Spiritus

  Veni Creator Spiritus

  Mentes tuorum visita

  Imple superna gratia

  Quae Tu creastif pectora

  The procession entered through the large main doorway in the east wall of the Sistine Chapel. For most of the cardinals, it was their first time inside the chapel since preparations for the conclave began. The vast rectangular space measured one hundred thirty-four feet in length, forty-four feet in width, and sixty-eight feet in height to the top of the flattened barrel vault that soared over the space—the exact dimensions of Solomon’s Temple, as described in the Old Testament. Six tall, arched windows punctured the upper half of the walls running the length of the chapel, drawing the light of heaven down onto the marble floor below. The walls flowed up between the windows to form the triangular webs and pendentives supporting the ceiling.

  A chancel wall consisting of a low barrier topped with a gilded screen divided the chapel floor into two unequal spaces. The procession filed into the smaller space set aside for the laity to observe mass, then through the opening in the chancel screen into the sanctuary surrounding the altar.

  Architecturally unremarkable, the voluminous space inside the tan brick building became instead a canvas for the greatest artists of the Italian Renaissance. In the tradition of the day, the chapel’s ornamentation was thematically divided into three epochs. Above the cardinal electors soared Michelangelo’s famous ceiling on which prophets, sibyls, and the forefathers of Christ framed illustrated scenes drawn from Genesis. Frescos depicting the life of Moses decorated the long south wall, balanced by the life of Christ on the north.

  Directly before the cardinals, as if they needed further reminder of the importance of their task, the resplendent figure of Christ the Judge soared above the altar. The Last Judgment, a monumental fresco that covered the entire western wall of the chapel and consumed five years of Michelangelo’s life, depicted Christ surrounded by the saints and the elect, and beneath them the damned. Before the altar stood a long table and a lectern. There, beneath Michelangelo’s towering masterpiece, the ballots would be counted and the name of the new pope revealed.

  Two rows of long tables draped in red velvet ran the length of the chapel on both sides, from the chancel screen to the altar. The rows closest to the tapestry-lined walls stood one step up on low risers, permitting those seated there an unobstructed view of the proceedings. The cardinal electors moved to the seats assigned them by lot. Behind the chancel screen, those supporting the conclave stood as witnesses to the swearing-in of the electors. Donoher and Scheuermann, by virtue of their duties in the conclave, were assigned seats close to the altar. When all were in place, Donoher approached the altar and bowed his head in prayer, then moved to the lectern.

  “My Most Eminent Lord Cardinals, in accordance with Universi Dominici Gregis, we must now take our oath. Cardinal Scheuermann.”

  The cardinal dean, too, offered a brief prayer at the altar before approaching the lectern. He opened a leatherbound folio and began to read.

  We, the cardinal electors present in this election of the supreme pontiff promise, pledge, and swear, as individuals and as a group, to observe faithfully and scrupulously the prescriptions contained in the Apostolic Constitution of the Supreme Pontiff Pope Leo XIV, Universi Dominici Gregis. We likewise promise, pledge, and swear that whichever of us by divine disposition is elected Roman pontiff will commit himself faithfully to carrying out the munus Petrinum of pastor of the universal Church and will not fail to affirm and defend strenuously the spiritual and temporal rights and liberty of the Holy See. In a particular way, we promise and swear to observe with the greatest fidelity and with all persons, clerical and lay, secrecy regarding everything that in any way relates to the election of the Roman pontiff and regarding what occurs in the place of the election, directly or indirectly related to the results of voting; we promise and swear not to break this secret in any way, either during or after the election of the new pontiff, unless explicit authorization is granted by the same pontiff; and never to lend support or favor to any interference, opposition, or any other form of intervention, whereby secular authorities of whatever order or degree or any group of people or individuals might wish to intervene in the election of the Roman pontiff.

  Donoher walked up to the table and, facing his brother cardinals, declared, “And I, Malachy Cardinal Donoher, do so promise, pledge, and swear.” Placing his right hand on the Gospels, he continued. “So help me God and these Holy Gospels which I touch with my hand.”

  Each of the cardinals made the same declaration, a promise that bound them together in the secrecy of the conclave. After the last elector swore the oath and returned to his seat, the master of papal liturgical celebrations walked to the center of the chapel.

  “Extra omnes,” he announced, ordering those not taking part in the conclave to leave the chapel.

  The audience for the swearing-in departed, leaving on
ly the cardinals, the master of papal liturgical celebrations, and the ecclesiastic chosen to give the second meditation. Donoher and the assistant cardinals had chosen well, as the man delivered a moving sermon that clearly distilled the duty facing the electors and the need to act with the good of the universal Church foremost in their minds.

  After this meditation, the ecclesiastic and the master of papal liturgical celebrations departed, and the doors to the chapel were sealed. Only the cardinal electors and a few people needed to assist with the balloting remained inside. The conclave had begun.

  Scheuermann once again stood before the assembly. “May the election commence, or do any doubts still remain regarding the norms and procedures as laid down in the Apostolic Constitution?”

  Scheuermann’s question was offered as an opportunity to clarify the rules for the election as prescribed by Pope Leo XIV. Upon their arrival in Rome, each of the cardinals was provided a copy of the Apostolic Constitution, in both Latin and his native tongue, and encouraged to familiarize himself thoroughly with the document. For most, the election would be a once-in-a-lifetime event, and the intent of Scheuermann’s question, itself an element of the Apostolic Constitution, was to ensure that each elector understood how the election was to be conducted.

  There was a little murmuring among the cardinals, but only one rose to address an issue. It was Donoher.

  “I recognize the Most Reverend Cardinal Donoher,” Scheuermann said with a little surprise. Of all people, the camerlengo should have been an authority on the election procedures.

  “My Most Eminent Lord Cardinals,” Donoher began, “the matter I wish to bring before you is in regard to an amendment to the Apostolic Constitution.”

  A cacophony of voices echoed inside the chapel. Cardinals rustled through their papers searching for an amendment that each thought he must have overlooked.

  “My Lord Cardinals,” Scheuermann’s stern voice cut through the din.

  The noise quieted, but the confusion among the electors remained.

  “My Lord Cardinal Donoher,” Scheuermann said, “article fifty-four of the Apostolic Constitution, which addresses this very point in our proceeding, does not permit modification of the norms and procedures for the election.”

  “That is true, but I am not proposing an amendment, merely announcing the existence of one. I apologize that the amendment was not included in the packets provided to you all, but I learned of it only moments before the start of this session.”

  Donoher walked down the row of cardinals seated beneath Botticelli’s fresco Scenes from the Life of Moses, and stopped in front of Cardinal Cain, the president of the Pontifical Commission for Vatican City State. Cain did not seem surprised, even when Donoher handed him a handwritten document.

  “My Most Esteemed Cardinal, do you recognize this document?” Donoher asked.

  “I do,” Cain replied, his booming voice clearly heard by all of the electors. “It was drafted and signed in the presence of Archbishop Sikora and myself by His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV, one week before his passing.”

  “And are the signature and seal those of Pope Leo XIV?”

  “They are, and both were made in my presence.”

  “And is this your signature notarizing the document?”

  “It is.”

  “And it was the expressed wish of the late pontiff that this document not be made known until after the conclave to elect his successor had begun.”

  “As expressed to me by His Holiness.”

  “Thank you, my Lord Cardinal.” Donoher returned to the front of the chapel before continuing. “The amendment drafted by His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV, in his own hand, and dated in the week prior to his death, reads as follows.” Donoher looked down at his papers.

  I exclude from the provisions of article sixty-one, the introduction into the place of election such technological equipment as required by the camerlengo for the sole purpose of presenting an audiovisual message recorded by me for the cardinal electors. Following the presentation of this message, the technological equipment is to be removed from the place of election and the original provisions of article sixty-one are to be enforced.

  “Are there any questions regarding the amendment just introduced by Cardinal Donoher?” Scheuermann asked.

  There were none.

  “If there are no objections,” Scheuermann continued, “I suggest that we now hear the message.”

  Several heads nodded in assent. All participants wanted to hear what the late pontiff had to say to them.

  Donoher unlocked the side entry and waved a waiting pair of technicians into the chapel. The men rolled in a cart of equipment and quickly erected a large projection screen near the altar. Those cardinals seated at the far end of the chapel moved forward down the center aisle for a better view. When the technicians completed their work, Donoher escorted them out of the chapel and barred the door.

  The screen displayed a blue test image from the portable DVD player. Donoher retrieved the disk Sikora gave him just before the opening session and set it into the player. The screen filled with the image of Pope Leo XIV seated in his chair in the Redemptoris Mater Chapel and dressed in formal papal attire.

  Greetings, my brothers in Christ. By now the time of mourning is over and the Church awaits a new dawn. Like the Easter season, this is a time of renewal. I pray for you all, and that the Holy Spirit will guide your deliberations. I created many cardinals during my long reign, nearly all of those present at this conclave. But one cardinal I created is not among you because I have held his name in my heart, and with my death he is no longer a cardinal.

  It is for this man that I have taken the unusual step of preparing this message for you. Some of you may already have guessed that I speak of Bishop Yin Daoming of Shanghai, who has endured nearly three decades of incarceration in the People’s Republic of China. Yin’s crime, for which he has suffered greatly, is his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and his unwavering loyalty to the Roman Catholic Church. We are all called to lead by example, and Yin’s example has inspired many in China into religious life at great peril, and sustained millions of the faithful against brutal repression. There is much we all could learn from such a man.

  I named Bishop Yin a cardinal in pectore in the second consistory of my pontificate. Through these long years, the Holy See has pursued every diplomatic avenue available to secure his freedom. Sadly, these efforts have borne no fruit. You are seeing this message today because I am dead and Bishop Yin is not among you. Though my successor is not bound in any way by this request, I pray that he, too, will find Yin Daoming deserving of a place in his heart.

  At that moment, it seemed to Donoher the pope was staring directly at him from the screen, and there was a twinkle in the pontiff’s eyes.

  Of course, my request assumes Bishop Yin is still in China. If the camerlengo is the kind of man I believe him to be, an extraordinary effort to secure Yin’s freedom is already under way. And if, by the grace of God, Yin Daoming is freed before the election of the new pope, I pray with all my heart that you will give him the same consideration for the papacy as you would any member of the College of Cardinals, for under different circumstances he would be among you now.

  I have chosen to speak to you about Bishop Yin in conclave so that my words will be protected by the oath that you all have just sworn. May you all discharge your duties as cardinal electors faithfully for the good of the universal Church.

  21

  “Is this true?”

  A cardinal fired the first question at Donoher before the image of Pope Leo XIV faded from the screen, and dozens more followed as a tide of confused voices surged within the chapel. The decorum observed in such solemn proceedings evaporated, lost in the bewilderment stirred up by the late pontiff’s recorded address. Among the most surprised by what he had heard was the camerlengo himself.

  “What did His Holiness mean by an extraordinary effort?” one voice demanded.

  “Is something afoot that
we should know about?” another inquired gravely.

  Donoher caught only fragments of the barrage, his mind wrestling with questions of his own.

  “My Lords, please return to your seats,” a stern voice thundered above the din. It was Scheuermann.

  “My Lords, if you will all return to your seats,” Scheuermann continued, now that he had their attention, “I am certain the Esteemed Cardinal Donoher will enlighten us.”

  As the cardinals settled down, Donoher moved to the center of the chapel. All eyes were fixed on him, and it seemed even God himself, swirling in the frescoed heavens above, had stopped His labors to hear the camerlengo’s response.

  “My Most Esteemed Lord Cardinals,” Donoher began, “it has been the greatest privilege of my life to serve His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV. One of the goals of his illustrious reign, an aim sadly unmet, was to restore the freedom that was wrongly taken from our brother in Christ, Yin Daoming.

  “Those of us who hail from Western nations know little of grave suffering. Our pastoral lives are spent administering well-established dioceses, and our greatest challenge seems to be in creating a sense of relevance for the Church in an increasingly secular and ambivalent world.