Habemus Papam!

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Today is a day of great joy in the Church—our new pope has been revealed to us! I wanted to take a moment to reflect on my experience of the day’s events and of the events leading up to it.

Although I’ve been alive for the last two times this has happened, this is the first time I’ve actually paid attention to the process of transition between one papacy to another. From JPII to Benedict XVI, I was 9 years old and had been baptized only a month before. I was new to being Catholic and didn’t have any appreciation for what was going on, plus I was probably busy playing football or something at a friend’s house. From Benedict XVI to Francis, I was a senior in high school with my sights set on starting college and a life of my own. I saw religion as something bygone and outdated, unnecessary in the modern world of convenience and comfort that promised to fill all my desires with this product or that experience. I didn’t know or seek to know the theological and anthropological teachings of the Church; even the love of God and the basic message of the Gospel were unknown to me. Needless to say, I did not pay attention to Francis’s election either.

Perhaps obviously, there were some things that happened between then and now that changed the course of my life forever, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about today. I am very grateful that I did get to witness the process of transition between Francis and Leo XIV, and that I paid careful attention to it, but maybe not in the way you might expect.

Starting with Pope Francis’s death, the Church embarked once again upon the process of choosing the next successor to St. Peter, something she had done, if my math is right, 265 times before. An important aspect I observed right away is that, though everyone knows what will happen in the near future, there is a prescribed period of mourning to remember, honor, bury, and pray for the pope who has died. These works of mercy are unifying. Though there can exist arguments and differences in opinion or approach to certain problems, these are quickly diminished when we encounter the mystery of death. The reminder of our own mortality allows the whole world to stop for a minute and, in our smallness, to stand in awe of God’s infinitude, and to cling to the promises of Christ.

I was fascinated by the news coverage of Pope Francis’s body lying in state and his funeral, both because I was able to see the images of the events made possible by modern technology, but also by the mere fact that they were being broadcast by major news outlets and lots of people, not just Catholics, were watching. It’s like there is an undertone in the world’s subconscious from which these events draw out some kind of latent religious sense.

After Francis’s funeral, there seemed to start a buzz around the world about who the next pope would be. I decided at that time that I would not do any research into who the “frontrunners” and favorites were. During the time I wasn’t worrying about who the next pope would be, I was struck by two observations. The first was the beautiful timeline Francis followed to his death. His light was burning out along with Christ’s through the Lenten season, culminating at the Triduum. Francis received a foretaste of heavenly glory on Easter before passing to the next life. Honestly, I can’t think of a better time to die than Easter Monday. I’m sure he wasn’t out at an Easter egg hunt on Sunday morning, and I’m sure his worsening condition made the simple act of existence difficult. But Francis was a deeply spiritual man, his whole being attuned to the mysteries of Christ. Though he was unable to celebrate with full vigor, I’m certain his soul rejoiced in Jesus’s resurrection, in which he trusted completely.

The other thing that struck me was during the Eucharistic prayers at Mass. How many times have we heard “Remember, Lord, your Church, spread throughout the world, and bring her to the fullness of charity, together with Francis our pope…”? After Francis’s death, every time this was prayed without the pope clause (if that’s what it’s called), there was a palpable tension in the church, and I’m sure it caused more than a few priests to stumble over the words. I suppose you could chalk it up to disrupted muscle memory and the effects of rote clericalism, but I think we ought to look deeper than that. I think a stutter or a feeling of incompleteness at the missing words is an indication of the reality that the Church needs a pope—someone to step into the sandals of Peter, the rock on whom Jesus built his Church.

And so I came to the start of the conclave not knowing anything about any of the Cardinals who would be voting or likely to be elected. I thought that knowing about the likely selections would make me either very pridefully pleased that the Cardinal Electors chose who I wanted and who I knew would be best for the Church, or it would make me pridefully jaded that I’d have to endure their wrong pick for the next 10 or 20 years. Both ways seemed to me to be undesirable.

Though I did not concern myself with the individuals being discussed by the Cardinal Electors, I did not hold back from entering fully into the process. I watched along with the world in great anticipation as the extra omnes was announced and the doors were shut. I watched sunset descend on the rooftop chimney (and the seagull) just before the black smoke billowed yesterday afternoon. I awoke this morning thinking about the voting that was happening as I got ready for work, and I offered morning prayer for the Spirit to guide the electors.

In life, there seems to be a deepening of the joy received in something longed for and awaited, but there is a kind of giddiness and excitement at a surprise. The white smoke today brought both feelings to me. On one hand, this is what I, along with the rest of the world, had been waiting for throughout the whole process. On the other hand, everyone seemed to be caught off guard by the timing of the smoke. All the news outlets were halfway through interviews with clergy or Vatican correspondents, and I think the whole world owes it to the dedicated people standing in St. Peter’s Square who were the very first people to see the sign that the election had finished, that we had a pope. It was their cheers of sudden excitement that turned the world’s attention to the chimney (and to a baby seagull this time).

This evening, I sat down with my kids and we went through the whole process from Francis’s funeral to Leo XIV’s first address (shout out to CBS News for their highlight reel on YouTube). We’ve been talking about it together as a family and have been praying both for the repose of Pope Francis’s soul as well as for the conclave and for the new pope. Reliving the whole thing really distilled and clarified all my thoughts about the process, and seeing Pope Leo XIV standing on the balcony, waving and taking it all in, was profound. He was obviously keenly aware that he had not achieved some kind of political office in which he would legislate policies according to some ideological agenda. Rather, he appeared humble; joyful, yet cognizant of the cross he will have to take up daily. It seemed that he was holding back tears as the mystery of his calling presented itself as a scale on which the tremendous weight of responsibility rocked back and forth, balanced by the joy of the world cheering “Viva il Papa”. It was a beautiful sight and something to behold. I’m glad I paid attention to it this time.

May God bless Pope Leo XIV and the entire Church of Christ.

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