The Accidental Pope

by Ray Flynn

  The three were silent as the mood in the room changed. Bill Kelly smiled cheerfully and poured another round of Irish Mist. “So now you are up to date on the bishop of Rome. I will take your advice as soon as it seems a convenient moment and give Robitelli a copy of the avviso to read. And then I’ll feel free to let you two in on it.”

  “Which reminds me,” Brian said, “now that I have completed my duties as celebrant, I must see Robitelli to find out if the curia have gotten around to approving one of my three candidates to replace my auxiliary bishop, who passed away this September.”

  “I was thinking about that. Why do these things take so long?”

  “A mystery to rival the Trinity, Bill. It’s always been that way. I remember when my bishop told me I was on his recommended list. It took a year before he received the decision.”

  Bill shook his head. “Ridiculous! May I ask who on the list you personally favor?”

  “A lowly Father Crowley. Monsignors McCarthy and Donnelly are darned good men. But if I were told whom I might choose, Crowley would be my man. Of course, they’re long his superior in rank.”

  “What if you didn’t have to choose, Brian?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, say you needed three new bishops. Would you consider those three your best choices, or begin selecting some other men as well?”

  “Now, look.” Brian breathed heavily. “That’s an impossible dream, three new bishops. But yes, I would definitely nominate those three.”

  “You mean you really need three bishops but only ask for one?”

  Brian laughed. “Poor Pope Bill. Well, you’ll learn one day how slowly things happen around here in the Vatican. They like to play it safe.”

  “Baloney, Brian. If I ask my first mate to choose a new first mate for one of my boats I sure would not tell him I’d take his choice ‘under advisement.’ That would be a direct slap in the face.”

  The pope reached out and pressed a small button at the edge of the end table. “Let’s just see what we can do about these various great and sundry mysteries.”

  In moments a knock was heard on the door. “Come in, come in, Sister,” Pope Bill called out and stood up as a middle-aged nun entered the room.

  A “liberated nun,” Brian noticed. Perfect attire for a working secretary. The traditional nun’s habit would preclude efficient shorthand, typing, and office work. Cardinal Comiskey also rose.

  “This is Sister Miriam, my secretary and the world’s fastest shorthand specialist.”

  The nun colored as she bowed to Tim and shook hands with the cardinal when she saw no ring to kiss. “What may I do for you, Your Holiness?”

  “Please be seated and take down this official letter for me.”

  The nun seated herself, opened her pad, and was ready to write. The pope began to dictate, a sly grin on his face. “This document is to confirm that His Holiness, Pope Peter II, has approved for the office of bishop in the Church the following priests.” He turned to Brian. “What are their first names and middle initials?”

  “But you can’t, I mean you’re not—”

  “Your Holiness,” Tim added urgently, “as your secretary adviser I agree with Cardinal Comiskey. This is bound to have unfortunate repercussions at this time. One now, the other two down the road would be much more advisable.”

  “I’m the pope, remember?”

  Brian nodded in wonderment. The full names were entered. Pope Peter continued to dictate. “These three priests are needed to assist the Church in Ireland and will be consecrated to the bishopric at a time and place to be decided upon by His Eminence, Brian Cardinal Comiskey, primate of Ireland. Said cardinal will also have authority to decide in which areas these bishops will serve for the betterment of the Church following their consecration. Signed and sealed, et cetera.” Bill turned triumphantly to Brian.

  Tim Shanahan sighed, shook his head, and then shrugged in resignation.

  “Dear God!” Brian exclaimed. “Can you do this?”

  “I just did. You know the pope has the authority here.”

  Sister Miriam flashed her first tentative smile at the bewildered cardinal.

  “Yes,” Brian conceded, “I know that. But think of the trouble this may cause. I mean, isn’t this just a little hasty?”

  “My dear Cardinal Comiskey, do you mean to tell me you have been wasting the pope’s precious time with small talk and did not mean what you said?”

  “No, of course not, but—”

  “Good. Then it’s done. Sister, please give me three copies of that on my official letterhead and I will stamp the Vatican seal on them.”

  “Very well, Pope Peter. I will return in fifteen minutes. Excuse me.” She stood up and retreated backward through the door.

  “Well, all I can say is thank you,” Brian, bemused, said. “You have no idea how much this will upgrade our faith in Ireland.”

  Tim shook his head. “I hope you don’t create problems with the magisterium here. You surely will hear from Robitelli.”

  Brian’s gaze went to the door through which Sister Miriam had disappeared. “The good nun certainly does seem to be super efficient, as you said … all business.”

  “Yes, but there is something missing. I can’t put my finger on it yet. She seems … well, somehow uncomfortable with me. I suppose it’s the fact that I’m a layman—or was. She reminds me a bit of my son, Ryan, the only kid of mine I could never read.”

  True to her word, the sister was back in fifteen minutes. Brian happily patted his Vatican letter as he put it carefully into his jacket. “Thanks again. You’re not doing this merely because we are friends, are you?”

  “Of course, it’s always easier to do something for a friend. But if a need makes itself known I see no reason not to address it immediately. I just may send out a few feelers to some of our other cardinals, like, say, Motupu, and see if I can help them.”

  “Well, all I can say is, good luck. If I don’t see you again I’ll assume they have thrown you into the moot,” he quipped.

  “You mean the moat, our beloved Tiber into which the Borgias threw the bodies of certain beloved cardinals who disagreed with them, or whose lands and possessions they appropriated?”

  “No, although that, too. The history of the Church is bloody and profane. But I was referring to the ‘moot point’ where nothing can really ever get done,” Brian commented. “Our business is finished. I’ll now return to Dublin a little early, if you don’t mind?”

  “No, I don’t. But you’ll miss a perfect Italian meal. Monsignor Cippolini is taking his mother and sister, who is a concert pianist, and Tim and me out to eat at a great restaurant nearby. And don’t worry. I planned it with the Swiss Guard, so I’ll be protected.”

  “I heard about your little excursion out into the wicked world. Seriously, though, remember the cautionary advice from your predecessor. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Robitelli finds out what you’ve done for Ireland. That might be a good time to tell him about, or show him, the avviso.”

  Bill grinned broadly. “I’ll just say, ‘Gino, tell me who you selected for the bishopric in Dublin?’ Then when he mentions any one of the three I’ll just say, ‘Why, you know, I agree completely with you. I also chose him and gave Comiskey an official letter saying so.’”

  Brian threw up his hands. “God help us … another Boston Irish politician!”

  * * *

  Brian left Rome. Pope Bill waited for the other shoe to drop. That Cardinal Robitelli would try to inflict serious consequences for the pope’s temerity in taking it upon himself to appoint three bishops out of hand was a foregone conclusion. Was there a madman on the premises?

  Inexorably, but three full days later, Bill learned how far the tentacles of the magisterium could reach. His Friday meeting with Cardinal Robitelli gave him reason to regret his spontaneous use of the power vested in him as pope. He resolved henceforth to curtail his exuberance and behave more circumspectly when dealing with h
is curia.

  Almost the first words out of the cardinal’s mouth when they were alone together were “Your Holiness,” the sure signal that chastisement was in the offing. “I have received word early this morning,” he continued, “that you have given Cardinal Comiskey permission to consecrate three priests to the office of bishop in Ireland. Bishop Wu, director of personnel at the Vatican, was shocked and nearly broke down over the news. And I must agree with him! Let me ask you, who else now will want a half-dozen or so more bishops?”

  Cardinal Robitelli peered owlishly at the pope for a moment. “This is a most dangerous move you have made. No one will argue the fact that you have the authority to appoint bishops,” he added hastily. “But previous popes have always been very careful to discuss each new appointment to that high office with the prefect of the Congregation of Bishops and the cardinal secretary of state. We like to think that we work here as a team, brothers joined together to assist each particular diocese throughout the world. It is forever necessary to examine carefully the background and ministry of each candidate to determine how he has progressed as a loyal witness to the tenets of our faith. I feel—nay, I insist—that you should at least afford us the respect of discussing your concerns before making any major changes!”

  Pope Peter was embarrassed not only by his precipitous action but also by the open, if not hostile, manner in which the cardinal had expressed himself. He searched for the sentiments he had been composing to use in his defense when this inevitable moment of conflict arrived.

  “Your Eminence, I confess I do not totally understand your process of appointing bishops. I can’t help but detect a certain, shall I say, ‘contradiction’ in the process. Brian Comiskey was obviously a worthy candidate for bishop and then for cardinal long before I came. Therefore, why should his recommendations be questioned? Perhaps because of his part in the elevation of Bill Kelly?”

  Robitelli shook his head in exasperation, and the pope continued. “Is there a need to limit the authority to a small group here that knows very little, extremely little, about the troubles in Ireland? Does the curia here somehow have better skills at judging who is suited to be a bishop there?”

  When no answer was forthcoming, Bill finished his reply to his secretary of state. “I do not apologize for this action. But I apologize sincerely for not letting you know of my resolve. I promise to keep you and the curia apprised of my intentions in the future. If you convince me that any contemplated action of mine will cause serious harm to the Church, I shall heed that advice.”

  Still Cardinal Robitelli maintained his silence. But Bill was not finished. “Incidentally, I spoke to Brian this morning and learned that the curia agreed with his first choice for a new bishopric. With regard to the other two, please ask Cardinal Comiskey to come here and discuss with us the monsignors I agreed to consecrate. If you can show good reason why they should not be appointed, and if Brian cannot justify them, I will withdraw my approval. Fair enough?”

  The cardinal slowly rose from his chair, a half smile on his face. “I presume there is no way I can argue with that. It seems the ball is now not squarely, but obliquely, in my court. As you football people say in America, ‘the best defense is a good offense.’ Allow me to contact Cardinal Comiskey later this afternoon.”

  Pope Peter nodded his assent. A nagging question had flashed through his mind with increasing frequency. He had never, one on one, directly confronted Robitelli with this suppressed doubt about his miraculous election. Now seemed to be the moment when the truth might emerge.

  “Your Eminence.” The pope underscored the seriousness of the concern he was about to express as he looked up at the cardinal secretary of state, standing attentively in front of his desk. Robitelli stiffened, sensing the gravity of this moment. “I would like to have an indication of the consensus of the cardinals, an agreement you personally may or may not share wholeheartedly, in respect to the status of Pope Peter II.”

  Robitelli’s eyes glittered, his body tense as he concentrated on his pope’s words.

  “In short,” Bill Kelly asked levelly, “do you believe that the Holy Spirit, in the form of this ‘prank’ I’ve heard referred to as ‘God’s joke,’ truly picked a lowly New England fisherman, Bill Kelly, to be Christ’s Vicar on earth? Do you believe that God would go to such extraordinary lengths as to trick His own conclave into voting for me? Then send word to me, on a fishing boat at sea, to be prepared?”

  When Robitelli, now standing before the pope, did not reply immediately, Bill continued the probe. “As far as I know, the details of Bill Kelly’s election have never been revealed outside the conclave itself. To this day nobody knows how it happened that the sacred college of cardinals elected this laicized priest, Bill Kelly, myself, to the throne of St. Peter. Do you cardinals feel that, if the truth were out, the college would never be taken seriously again? Are you all so frightened of your collective irresponsibility being discovered by the people in the pews, that you put up with me until this foolishness can be rectified?”

  Before Robitelli could consider an appropriate answer, Bill Kelly continued, voiding his psyche of the most troublesome concept presently disturbing him. “I wonder how you can keep the Church in line if you do not believe, as I do, that God chose this present pope, Peter II. If there were serious doubts that the Holy Spirit entered the conclave, if it is widely believed that my election was a mortal mistake, I believe my reign as pope would be as short as that of John Paul I, namely thirty days. I do not employ a medieval food taster, but my children are coming here to join me and I do not want any similar tragedy to occur.”

  Robitelli, for a moment terrified at the implications of this soliloquy, reached down, placing his hands on the pope’s shoulders. “Bill, if I did not believe with my heart and soul, as you do, that this was indeed the work of the Holy Spirit coming to the conclave and then to you out on your boat, I could not allow such a charade to have occurred in the first place. We are all truly convinced that it was no joke, no accident that you were brought to us by God himself. As was expected at the conclave, the Holy Spirit indeed came among us and chose you to lead. In the same way He came to us twenty-five years ago and we chose an obscure Polish cardinal who became Pope John Paul II, who peaceably rid the Western world of Communism.”

  The cardinal glanced at his watch. “Oh, my! Now I am due at a meeting of the curia on this subject of Irish bishops. We have to assume, Holy Father Bill, that the Holy Spirit chose to create three new bishops in Ireland.” He squeezed Bill’s shoulders affectionately.

  Eyes misting, Bill watched as the secretary of state made his exit, as always in charge of the situation at hand. Well, the pope thought, another time will suffice to talk with the cardinal about the avviso.

  26

  THE CATHOLIC FIRST FAMILY

  The next month flew by for the new pope. Cardinal Comiskey was awarded his three bishops, and Bill was leaning more and more heavily on Tim Shanahan for advice on everything involving Church politics: when to meet with whom, what the international press was saying. The former rector, now a close papal confidant, was also conducting a sub-rosa investigation of the controversial Vatican Bank. Bill respectfully consulted daily with Cardinal Robitelli, keeping a low profile at the Vatican. He so attentively studied Italian in Cippolini’s private language course that he was soon able to understand the letter from John Paul II in all its nuances and made up his mind not to reveal its details to anyone for the time being. His forerunner had requested that the details remain secret until the pope deemed it necessary to reveal them.

  On rare occasions he and Tim dined out at quiet restaurants despite Robitelli’s disapproval. Ambassador Ed Kirby had arranged for Armed Forces Network reception in the pope’s study so that he might watch American college and pro football games on television. Tim would consult Ed once in a while to evaluate media coverage of the pope’s first days at the Vatican. By and large the world press had been rather favorable, even in usually hostile countr
ies like France and England.

  Bill worked assiduously on the final planning of the yearlong celebration of Giubileo 2000, which would actually run well into 2001. It would affect millions of pilgrims during the dizzying months ahead. The ancient city hadn’t nearly the infrastructure, hotel rooms, or public transportation to adequately accommodate so many people. A major debate was continuing in the Italian Parliament as to whether or not such great financial expenditure should be approved or the taxpayers should be spared a huge outlay of public funds. However, if the world economy remained strong, the millions traveling to Italy would bring billions of lire pouring into the economy.

  Vatican officials were working closely with government officials at the Quirinale and Campodoglio on a daily basis. The pope was also consulting with Israel’s chief rabbi in Rome on the Church’s responses to the many books and negative news articles on the Holocaust and how Pope Pius XII and the Church dealt with it during the World War II period. Many Catholics had felt that great strides had been made in Jewish-Catholic relations under the previous pope, but tensions still existed. As the rabbi put it, “Many Jews throughout the world, especially in the United States, believe the Church continues to refuse to come forward and acknowledge that Pope Pius XII could have made considerably greater efforts to help save more of the six million Jews killed under Hitler during the war years.”

  This opinion was usually driven by highly visible best-selling books and TV documentaries. It was almost as though no matter how much proof or documentation the Church shared, it didn’t make any difference. Many Church scholars could only conclude that the enemies of Pius had their minds made up and didn’t want to be influenced by the facts.

  Soon the middle of December was upon Pope Peter II and a quiescent media found itself stirred to life by the prospect of the pope’s family arriving in Rome, an unthinkable event in modern history. The media reviewed in caricature the lives and likenesses of women who had lived with various popes as concubines from medieval times onward. Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander II, received close and detailed scrutiny. Anticipation heightened perceptibly.