Archbishop of Sydney

Rome

By + Cardinal George Pell
Archbishop of Sydney
24 April 2005

By coincidence I was in Jerusalem, when word came that Pope John Paul II was close to eternity.

We were about to celebrate Mass in the Cenacle, where tradition tells us Christ offered the Last Supper on the night before he died and where the Holy Spirit later came into the hearts of his frightened disciples.  They were so fired with enthusiasm, that Peter went out to preach about the risen Christ.  Three thousand were baptised.

It was an ideal place to pray for the dying pope and to pray for the Catholic Church which he was leaving.

In fact death did not come for another thirty-six hours, while we were staying at the Mount of Beatitudes overlooking the Lake of Galilee.

Galilee is a beautiful part of the world, especially at spring time after good rain.  The fields were green and the blossoms were out.  It was reassuring to know that Jesus loved to come there to pray, to get some peace and recuperate after the turbulence of his public appearances.

It was late Saturday night for us when news of the Pope’s death was confirmed.  The next day I flew to Rome.

The Church calls the time between two popes, the “sede vacante” period, when no one is in the teaching chair of St. Peter.  One American cardinal told me how vividly he felt the absence of a leader at the helm.  I didn’t feel this so keenly, but only because I knew the gap would soon be filled.  The Catholic Church without the pope is unthinkable, as his office is the lynch pin of a world-wide unity.

When someone we love and admire dies we can be hit by surges of emotion at different times.  I felt this as I gathered with the other cardinals in the Vatican Palace, where the dead pope’s body first lay in state.  Like any corpse it was bleak and lifeless.  The voice which had called millions to Christ was stilled.  The hope of resurrection lay buried deeply, available only to those with faith.

I was touched too by the unexpected waves of applause.  It was truly a victory celebration and a strong affirmation of belief in life after death.  Millions knew that in Pope John Paul they had encountered greatness.

Nine days of mourning followed the funeral, each marked by a Mass in St. Peter’s.

This long period of official liturgical remembrances served a useful psychological function, bringing healing as the proper celebration of any “good” funeral does.

But life has to go on.  The entire group of cardinals, including those over eighty years of age, then began their discussions on the situation of the Church throughout the world, on the different challenges in the different continents.

Many cardinals, like myself, were busy speaking to the press trying to explain what was happening.  This was hectic, so that the decision of the College of Cardinals not to allow interviews after the funeral and before the election of the new pope brought welcome relief to me at least.

The conclave is the formal process when the cardinal electors (those under eighty) are locked away from the world to choose the next pope.

Previously the cardinals lived in makeshift cubicles in the Apostolic Palace around the Sistine Chapel, where the voting takes place.  It was noisy, uncomfortable.  In 1978 the last two conclaves were held in the summer and the windows had to be kept closed to prevent bugging.  It was stifling.

We stayed in a house in the Vatican, named after St. Martha, who provided hospitality for Jesus.  One old cardinal was uneasy, because he feared it would be too comfortable and encourage us not to come to a consensus quickly.  Those fears were unfounded this time.

All contacts with the outside world were forbidden.  We were surrounded day and night by police and even the heavy wooden window shutters were sealed.

Most cardinals went up the Vatican hill to the Sistine Chapel by bus, but I preferred to walk.  It gave me some exercise and some fresh air in the open.

The Sistine Chapel was built by Pope Sixtus IV in 1480 to match exactly the proportions of Solomon’s Temple, built in Jerusalem 1000 years before Christ.  Many great artists worked to decorate it, but the ceiling of Michelangelo and his painting of the Last Judgement, the separation of the good from the evil, on the wall behind the main altar dominate this magnificent building.

The proceedings of the conclave are a mix of ancient ritual perfected over nearly nine hundred years and modern technology.  Everyone except the cardinals are excluded during the voting with two counts each morning and afternoon.  Different cardinals at each session are chosen by ballot as officials and scrutineers.  After the votes are counted, they are threaded together by needle and then the votes and any papers used by cardinals are burnt.

The Chapel was surrounded by some sort of electronic field to prevent bugging.  I don’t know whether this was successful or whether any agency tried to eavesdrop!

There is now a huge new machine to generate the black smoke marking an unsuccessful session or the white smoke to announce an election.  I don’t know whether the final smoke was white outside, but a large cloud of white smoke did escape inside to damage the ceiling.

Cardinal Medina from Chile, a retired Vatican official had the task of announcing to the world from the façade of the basilica that “habemus papam”; we have a pope.  He made the most of the occasion, teasing the immense crowd in the Square by greeting them in five languages and then pausing interminably between each word until he came to “Ratzinger”, Pope Benedict XVI.

With the other cardinals I was on one of the side balconies of the façade, watching the rejoicing, the jam-packed Square and the crowds still running into the Via di Conciliazione.  There were two large Australian flags amid many others.

It was a beautiful sight.