by Ray Flynn
As Brian continued with ever-greater fluency to recount the conversations and events that had taken place the day before in Buzzards Bay, individual whispering coalesced into a steady murmur around the chamber.
“And that, brothers, is what leads me to believe that through our blundering and our floundering here, or perhaps in spite of it, or perhaps because of it, the Holy Spirit has in very truth spoken to us in this conclave!”
With his last words Brian walked slowly over to the Bible that was placed beside the voting chalice and placed his hand, still holding the rosary, on the book. “So help me, God, I have witnessed the truth, the entire truth, and nothing but the truth.” He kissed the Bible and walked quickly back to his seat.
A few cardinals began to talk quietly to each other. They were surely, terribly, at a loss. Finally, a stunned Cardinal Robitelli stood behind his table and tapped his gavel. His mind was searching for words. As was the case with most of the assembled Church princes, he was trying to determine how to repudiate the accounting that Cardinal Comiskey had rendered.
What had happened was blatantly inconceivable. Worse, it was suspect. Yet, like all the rest in the room, the camerlengo felt an inner tug at his conscience—or was it his soul? All of them had experienced what each believed to be direct communion with the Holy Spirit in some way, at some time, in some place. Could this be another one of those circumstances? They were suddenly, instantly, caught between two worlds. It was one thing to preach love of God or say that He had spoken through His Scriptures. But it was another matter entirely when a mere mortal stated that Our Lady had spoken to him. Who did this man think he was? Yet had not each one of them been similarly called to the religious life in the first place?
Robitelli looked out at the assembly. He could announce a recess. They were all anxiously waiting for him, their leader, to clarify this situation. “Dear brothers, I’m … well, at a loss to know what to say. And you know I’ve seldom been at a loss for words.”
He waited for help in the expected response. None came. He coughed to clear his throat, stalling for the inspiration that eluded him. Finally he reverted to the tried and true solution to any dilemma: Pass the buck, or blame the messenger.
“Cardinal Comiskey, I can’t believe that you allowed this to happen! You should certainly know how to convince a layman that any high post, let alone the papacy itself, is far beyond anything he could imagine or merit. I hold you personally responsible for this situation. My God! I wish I had been granted a chance to speak to this upstart, Mr. Kelly. Things would have been different.”
Cardinal Comiskey, mortally affronted, had expected something like this, and was prepared. Standing before the cardinals, he glanced around the assemblage, then stared back at the camerlengo, a smile of impending vindication on his lips. The camerlengo again unwittingly had ensnared himself. “You have appealed to Caesar, to Caesar you shall go!”
“What in God’s name—? Are you—?”
“No, Your Eminence. It occurred to me the request you made might fit St. Paul’s appeal. You want to speak to Bill Kelly? You want to tell him why he shouldn’t dream of taking advantage of what you consider our mistake? Fine. I believe Bill Kelly should be waiting in Monsignor Cippolini’s office at this very moment. Allow me to summon him.”
A stunned camerlengo glared back at the more youthful cardinal standing before him. Chuckles, impossible to interpret, rose here and there. Then some mumbles, followed by a few hand claps.
Cardinal Motupu leaped to his feet. “Yes, Brian.” He looked about at the cardinals, all of them now fascinated with the turn of events. “Let’s meet the pope and hear what he has to say.”
It was evident Motupu had enjoyed this shot. “Sì, sì. Yes, yes,” other voices joined in. “Let’s see him. Let him be heard.”
The gravel sounded sharply. The camerlengo was attempting to regain some order, to reestablish control. “Brothers, we cannot be hasty! If Mr. Kelly is here, ought not we to decide first what we want to say to him and convince him how to give up his mad ambition to—”
“Not unless Mr. Kelly is present,” Motupu countered. “Do we have to sneak up on the man and betray him like Judas did, before attempting to destroy him? No, I say! Let’s have an open and honest discussion with him present, in front of us. Then let God’s will be done.”
Applause rang uncharacteristically from the assembly along with cries of “Sì, sì. Yes, yes, bring him in!”
The camerlengo at once perceived the futility of any more attempts that might further erode his control over the proceedings. Despairing, he banged the gavel for order.
“Very well, brothers. Cardinal Comiskey, please go for your Bill Kelly.”
15
WEAKNESS REACHING OUT TO WEAKNESS IN LOVE
Cardinal Comiskey responded with alacrity to the conclave’s request. He had played his part well in accordance with his conscience and was anxious to get the monkey off his back, allowing the assemblage to deal with Bill Kelly in its own way. The light of battle animated his eyes as he approached the emergency door.
Yes, Brian thought, they will have to deal with him, true enough, but the Bill Kelly I know will want to examine the deck before the cards are played. His heart quickened when he picked up the phone and called Monsignor Cippolini.
“Yes, Your Eminence, I have him seated here at my desk. Do you want him or just the papers?”
“Papers?” Brian asked absently. “Oh yes, the papers. No, bring Monsignor Kelly to the door.”
Brian waited a few moments before the knock sounded. He opened it to see Monsignor Cippolini with Bill standing beside him. “I see you made it all the way.” He nodded approvingly at Bill Kelly, resplendent in the long cassock Brian had gone to some trouble to find for him. “Well, my friend, the cardinals would like you to come before them … and to present the papers you brought,” he added for the benefit of Monsignor Cippolini. “I trust you had no trouble gathering them.”
“None, Your Eminence.”
The cardinal turned to Monsignor Cippolini. “Thank you for your assistance, Al. You will consider this to be conclave work and discuss it with no one.”
“Certainly. I understand completely. And Bill, when your errand is completed, it will be time for me to take you to lunch at that restaurant I was telling you about.”
“Al, don’t wait too long.” Brian chuckled. “There may be many questions asked. Let’s go in, Bill. Not to keep my esteemed brothers waiting!”
Bill finally found words. “God, Brian, do I feel out of place.”
“You hardly look it. Take it easy and remember: you’re the biggest guy in the place, literally and figuratively. Be respectful. Keep your temper! I suspect they are as nervous and confused as you are. To tell the truth I’m utterly and completely mixed up myself. But I just now presented your views as you did to me on your dock. Just yesterday,” he marveled. “God, it seems like an eon ago. I’ll stand behind you, don’t worry.”
Bill could only nod as they approached the entrance to the famous Sistine Chapel. He felt his face flush crimson as he gazed out at the battery of eyes fixedly staring at him. The few moments of silence were then broken by some quiet and admiring murmurs at this would-be pope’s imposing appearance. “My God, it is John Wayne,” someone whispered in the silence.
The Sistine Chapel! What an awesome and breathtaking sight. Like a movie extravaganza. He half expected to see Anthony Quinn, Gregory Peck, or Charlton Heston come winging down from the ceiling. He lowered his eyes to Michelangelo’s magnificent and brilliantly restored Last Judgment on the far wall, overcome for a moment by the sheer brilliance and meaning of this Renaissance masterpiece, but then quickly recovered, to give the appearance of being firm, steadfast, and confident. I must survive, he told himself. Please, Our Lady, give me strength.
The camerlengo advanced, extending his hand. “Benvenuto al Vaticano. Welcome to Rome, Mr. Kelly. My name is Cardinal Robitelli. We don’t wish to frighten you. We are at bottom
a friendly group of men and most willing to discuss some issues of importance with you.”
“Well, if that’s the case I’m feeling at ease already.”
Smiles of condescension and relief, some of pity, dotted the assembly as the camerlengo coughed and got down to business. “So, as you know, Mr. Kelly … Bill … we have … that is, some serious reservations concerning you … er … as pope. The cardinals would like to ask you questions concerning … er … your qualifications.” The camerlengo stood beside Bill Kelly, facing the seated group. “Who would like to be first?”
Cardinal Willeman, as anticipated, was the first to lift his hand and be recognized. “My question is a simple one, Mr. Kelly. Allow me to call you ‘Bill.’ You are a widower with a family. Have you thought in full depth how this would affect the Church? Even how it would affect your family? Granted, we had a few married popes hundreds of years ago, but modern history has shown us that marriage is unsuitable for anyone in such a responsible position. We here represent the Church inasmuch as we have dedicated our lives completely to God. Our vows of chastity, of obedience, are our witness to that particular commitment. I understand that you originally made that very same commitment but failed in it. Now you are a layman, I think, despite your monsignor’s vestments, and you have a commitment to your family. A good father, no doubt. That is why many of us feel you are initially unfit for this august, even final, office.”
Standing beside the camerlengo’s desk in front of the cardinals, Bill nodded thoughtfully. He took a deep breath and began the most important performance of his life.
“Thank you for stating your opinion in such a direct manner, Your Eminence.” Smiling, Bill said, “I rather suspected the subject would be brought up.” The cardinals clearly appreciated the fact that, at the very least, Bill had a sense of humor. “I’m glad it was the first question, so that we can clear the air in that regard. I will say only this. I have the highest respect for the rules of God and His Church, but I don’t feel that celibacy has anything to do with love and commitment to God and His Church. Jesus had no problem appointing a married man to be his first pope. ‘On this rock, Peter, you will build my Church,’ He directed.”
Bill paused to gauge the effect of that hoary argument for marriage within the clergy. “In regard to purity,” he continued, “I would remind you that I was an active priest for six years. I sat in rectories and monasteries and heard the issue of the laity discussed openly around the table. It was one of deep concern and extensive inquiry within each group. While I obviously love my late wife and children, I love Christ also with all my heart and soul and want to serve him and the people of His Church.”
Again Bill took a moment to gauge the reaction to his argument before going on. It seemed to him that he had captured the attention of the college. The facial expressions of many of the cardinals showed Bill the discomfort he was causing, shedding unwelcome light on a controversial issue within the Catholic Church, namely the subjugation of women. Nevertheless, he relentlessly decided to pursue the question of celibacy, which he had suspected while on the plane would be among the first arguments raised against him by the conclave.
He glanced around the half circle of cardinals concentrating on his every word. “The facts are, it seems to me, that the overwhelming majority of priests and all of the higher clergy are caring, decent, dedicated souls who would never purposefully sexually harm anyone. But unfortunately it only takes a few to tarnish the reputation of the many. I know that. You know that. But to keep God’s Church strong, the people outside must know it too.”
Bill spread his hands out in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture. “So that is my answer to you as honestly as I can give it. I see no moral problem in a married pope, or a married priest. But then again, that is a decision to be made by God, and we must pray for guidance.” He gestured for the next question.
As soon as the cardinals had caught their breath, Cardinal Cordeiro of Central America was recognized. “Mr. Kelly, may I ask … since leaving the active priesthood have you continued to be an active member of the Church? I mean do you go to Mass regularly? Say your prayers? Try to serve the Church faithfully?”
Bill nodded. “Well, I trust so. Being a fisherman I sometimes am unable to attend Mass on Sunday. When my boat is in port I attend Mass. Not because of any Church law but because I know for certain that I am the one who benefits, not God.”
A few murmurs of “Well said, well said” were heard from the black contingent. But Cardinal Cordeiro did not feel satisfied and pressed on. “But don’t you think, Mr. Kelly, that if someone is serving God, or feels the call to serve, his daily life should be much more active within the Church?”
“Well, now that you mention it, Your Eminence, I totally agree with you. That’s why I’m here! And that’s why I work hard for my Church back home. And I do it in a quiet and unassuming way. I guess you could say weakness reaching out to weakness in love. That is the face of the Church we must display. I’m reminded of the quiet but wonderful work Paul VI did on behalf of handicapped children.”
Cardinal Cordeiro sat down. Cardinal Motupu was recognized next. “Bill from America, I first want to welcome you here. I tend to agree with most of what you have said, especially your words on the Church helping the weak. But I would like to know your views about how you would see yourself handling the awesome responsibility of being pope. I mean, how could you possibly make all the necessary office appointments that a new pope must make in order to continue the ever-ongoing work of the Church? As you are no doubt aware, all offices end when the pope dies. They must all be reconstructed.”
“Thank you for asking such an excellent question, Your Eminence. I was thinking about that on the way over here. I recognize my defects and limitations. So I thought that I would just trust that the people our beloved Pope John Paul II selected were the finest people available for those posts. At least at first, I would leave everything and everyone exactly as it was and they were when he died. There will be no shift in authorities. The jobs in the curia will not change, not at first. But I will listen long and carefully to every cardinal in this conclave as we begin to shape future lines of authority. Together we will decide on who will do what jobs here inside the Vatican. As I say, everyone will be heard, and, since I have no preconceived ideas on personnel, any ideas proposed by individual members within this college of cardinals will have equal weight. I would depend on the cardinals who work here to be my teachers and to help me adjust to the office.”
Cardinal Monassari stood up and was recognized by the camerlengo. Brian wished there was some way he might warn Bill that this question or statement would be slanted toward Monassari’s continuing to exert his personal power based on his influence at the news-making Vatican Bank.
“Mr. Kelly”—he emphasized the Mr.—“Vatican finances have been a source of contention for most of the last century, especially since the period before, during, and after World War II. There were allegations that the Vatican Bank harbored Nazi gold and money. And so forth. More recently there was speculation about a criminal conspiracy involving forged and counterfeit bonds deposited with the Bank used as collateral for various loans. As the member of this conclave closest to the operations of our Bank, I would like to know how you would deal with these outside charges, which come mostly from anti-Catholic sources. And perhaps concerning administration of the Bank and our finances in general.”
Bill sensed a trap laid out for him. He hazarded a cautious but positive approach to combating the obvious corruption that had plagued Vatican banking connections for most of the century.
“Your Eminence,” he began, “I have found it necessary to pay a great deal of attention to the financial matters of a certain business and a certain industry in America—that of fishing. I am not naive in recognizing fiscal misappropriations. I shall pay stringent attention to other Vatican issues. But I will be mindful of those members of the curia, and of their supervisors in this body, who have given so much of their en
ergy and wisdom to administering the vital aspects of the worldwide Catholic Church and its government, the Holy See.”
Pasquale “Patsy” Cardinal Monassari nodded in preliminary satisfaction. With these words it was suddenly evident that a whole new attitude of acceptance was developing in the assembly. Heads turned, nodded, whispered. His few bold statements of concern for the weak had intrigued the liberals. Leaving the posts as Pope John Paul II had filled them intrigued the traditionalists. A few old conservatives thought they saw their chance ahead to manipulate the new pope to their philosophy. A feeling, perhaps the breath of the Holy Spirit, seemed to be indicating this might indeed be the perfect time for a layman who was also an ordained priest to rule. It would surely amaze, startle, and perhaps even reawaken the faithful. They would see for themselves how concerned the magisterium really was to have them participate more fully in the life and voice of the Church. No matter that some of them viewed the pope as a mere figurehead, like the queen of England. They, and a friendly magisterium, would remain the moving power. All, perhaps, would be well. The Holy Spirit, as it had through the centuries, still spoke through them!
Robitelli was quick to pick up on this shift in the atmosphere when Cardinal Monassari sat down and no more hands were raised. He tapped his gavel lightly. “Brothers, we seem to have come to some kind of consensus. May I see at once a show of hands of those who are opposed to Mr. Kelly?” No one found himself able to stir. The die had been cast.
With a sigh the camerlengo rose. “The original vote stands, then! No changes are necessary. The integrity of the rules has been preserved.” He paused and gave Bill an approving look. “Except for one omission in procedure, we have a pope!”
Cardinal Motupu, almost succumbing to a sense of accomplishment, suddenly jerked his head up combatively. “Omission in procedure?” his voice cracked out.
Cardinal Comiskey also betrayed an attitude of alarm not lost on Robitelli. “Yes,” the camerlengo answered. “The pope, of course, must also be the bishop of Rome. Yet Bill here is not even a bishop.”
