The election of a new Pope is among the most gripping spectacles the world has to offer. What are the thoughts and dispositions proper to Christian disciples in the midst of a conclave?
This article is the final installment in a five-part series on the Papacy. The series begins with “Why Did God Give Us a Pope?”
The wonder of a new Pope
The election of a new Pope is among the most gripping spectacles the world has to offer. It is always an interesting affair in general to observe the transfer of authority in important institutions. Such transitions are among the most significant events of the social world. Where there is a long history involved, we who are so hemmed in by the limitations of time are naturally fascinated by seeing ordered patterns of social life passed on from generation to generation. When, as with the Catholic Church, the institution in question is 2,000 years old, when it comprises more than a billion people, when it has roots and representatives in every country across the globe, and when it has witnessed the rise and fall of whole civilizations and has maintained its fundamental structure through all those centuries, the interest becomes intense. Add to that the magical ancientry of Rome and the long-standing rites and customs that surround a papal election, and it is no wonder then that the change of a pope occupies center stage and garners the attention of the whole world. There is nothing like it under the sun.
In passing, it is worth noting how historically unlikely it is, humanly speaking, that a movement set on foot by a poor working man and carried on after his brief public career by a group of uneducated fishermen from a backward up-country region should ever have gotten off the ground, let alone have grown beyond all bounds, becoming and remaining highly significant in world affairs. While it may not be a proof of Christianity’s divine origin, it is certainly suggestive.
In the midst of all the busyness of a papal election, with all the news reports and opinion pieces, all the prognostications ahead of time concerning who might emerge, and afterward all the expressions of surprise (or non-surprise) of the man who emerges as pope, it is good for Christians to remember that we view things very differently from the world, and that the difference in view is especially pertinent in what belongs to Christ.
A special temptation of our age
It is a particular temptation of our age to be dominated by the tyranny of the visible. This is not a new temptation. The call to live by faith, to embrace the illuminated sight given to believers, to learn a way of seeing that takes in the whole of reality, visible and invisible, has never been easy. And as regards papal elections specifically, there has often been evidence of a good bit of this-worldly political maneuvering. Human institutions are founded by human means, whether by an appeal to what is true and right, or by compelling propaganda, or coercive force, or the commanding weight of long-standing human customs. The Church also possesses a human and visible aspect, and needs to be attentive to the dynamics that touch any human institution. But the deep sources of the Church’s life are elsewhere, and in this it is unique among the world’s corporate entities. It draws its life from divine sources, and it responds to the world according to a set of hidden dynamics that are often a puzzle, and sometimes a scandal, to the wider world. In this it is like its Founder, Jesus, and participates in the same current of his hidden life. The life of the Church, like the life of Christ, is cruciform. It is powerful through the Cross. It is most potent when it is least self-regarding. It conquers even when it is being assailed and seemingly defeated by its opponents. It is most sure-footed when it is true to its nature as “the pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Tim 3:15). It is most fragile when it wanders from the road pioneered by Jesus and attempts to function in ways that promise the most worldly success.
Our age suffers greatly from this blindness that comes from forgetfulness of the invisible world. We are inundated by utopian religions that have denied the existence of the unseen, and that therefore place all their hopes for humanity in the exercise of this-worldly power and influence, whether through politics, economics, or social scientific and educational roads for the achieving of perfection. Even Catholic believers who are doing their best to renew their minds according to the truths of the Faith can find it difficult not to be affected by the often subtle ways that utopian ideals invade and affect their mode of thinking and acting. Within the Church itself, many have been taken by the notion that the Church is moved and maintained solely by human initiative. As a result of this blindness to reality, such people expend a great deal of energy attempting to control the Church’s fortunes by merely human means. They push and pull to get into positions of influence, they judge the Church’s condition through a merely human lens of success and failure, and they act as though Jesus, the Incarnate God-man, was not ruling his Church; as though there were no angelic beings exerting their influence upon human affairs; as though all the saints have nothing to say in what happens in the Church; and as though there is no “prince of this world” constantly scheming against God’s kingdom.
This is a sad delusion, and a damaging blindness. It is not damaging to the eternal Church, to “the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the first-born who are enrolled in heaven, and to a judge who is God of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant” (Heb 12:22-4). But it is damaging to those who hold such views, and damaging also to those whose access to the Gospel is thus made more difficult. What is needed instead is a more accurate spiritual vision. We want to live by faith, not by sight; we wish to be open to the whole of reality; we want to view things the way the angels view them, the true way to see. In short, we hope to “look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Cor 4:18). How might we train our eyes to the whole of reality and so be able to think and act with wisdom and practical efficacy? What might be some helps for sharpening our eyesight during this distracting time? Here, in brief, are a few such helps.
The primacy of the invisible
The first is simply to remember that the Church is both a divine and a human institution. It has a human face, and it has a divine essence. And while it deals in both the human and the divine, the deep springs of its life and the motivation for its action are rooted in its divine aspect. The Church is mysteriously but really the body of Christ, inhabited by the Holy Spirit. This truth does not negate its human aspect, but it puts that human element into proper perspective. Jesus was truly human, and much that he said and did can be understood as expressions of his human nature. But if we were to view Jesus as nothing more than a man, we would miss the essential thing about him. We would be unable to explain the sources of his life: his relation to the Father, his divine power, his authoritative preaching of the truth. We would misunderstand pretty much everything about him. The same is true of the Church. If we miss its divine center, we will misinterpret much of what it is, how it functions and what are the sources of its ongoing life. To deal intelligently with spiritual things, we need to keep spiritual realities in view; otherwise we will find ourselves ineffectual and constantly wide of the mark in our judgments and in our efforts.
The promise of Christ
Just before Jesus ascended, he made a solemn promise to his disciples: “I am with you always, to the close of the age" (Matt 28:20). Jesus was not just asserting God’s presence in the world. That would not have been a new truth. God, the creator, is by necessity present to the whole of his creation, as he has been from its beginnings. The newness of the promise is that it comes from Jesus, the Incarnate Lord. Though he was leaving his disciples in one sense, Jesus promised that he himself would still be with them in another sense. He would be present to them inwardly, and he would unite them to himself through his body, the Church. No other institution on earth has received such a promise. Kingdoms, nations, organizations of all kinds are established, play their part for good or ill, and then pass. The Church has Christ’s promise that it will be present to the end. The office of Peter, the rock upon which the Church is built, will be sustained by divine power.
Such a potent promise should not, and in general has not, produced an indolent attitude on our part toward the Church’s activity and its preservation. Jesus has promised that he will be with us; he has not promised that everything will go well in the Church; he has not promised to allow only excellent popes and bishops; he has not promised that every Christian believer will be faithful. Our response to the graces and gifts of God makes a serious difference on every level of the Church’s life. But there is a certain worldly anxiety that can come upon us regarding the fortunes of the Church, as if its continued existence depended upon human initiative alone, upon our holiness and our intelligence. It is an anxiety born of pride. The eye of faith will see that it was God who took initiative to enter human history, who gathered a people to himself, who came among them in human form, who founded the Church, and who inhabits the Church through time. God has guided the history of salvation from its beginnings, and God will see it through. We have our part to play, but it is decidedly a supporting role.
What we can do
Given that God expects our cooperation with his plans, we might reasonably ask: how can we best respond to this time of choosing and receiving a new Pope? How do we best align ourselves with what the Holy Spirit is doing and cooperate with his action? It should be clear that on one plane of activity at least, there is almost nothing that the great majority of us can do. The cardinal electors have a great responsibility in the act of choosing the Pope, and another small group of people will have an effect on the conclave through their influence on the minds and spirits of the electors, whether it is by writings, friendship, or some other form of influence. Yet by any reckoning, this is a very small percentage of the world-wide Church. For most of us, the mode of action we are called to, one that can greatly help or hinder God’s plans, is prayer. Prayer is not a last-ditch gesture of desperation to be used when nothing that “really works” can be done. Prayer is the most potent means of accomplishing God’s purposes. Any action unaccompanied and surrounded by prayer will accomplish very little. And every one of us can pray. We all can lift our hearts to the Lord, seeking his kingdom over us, asking him to give us a leader beyond what we deserve, and seeking his help for those who have the momentous task of choosing Peter’s next successor.
The less we can think of the Pope as a merely human leader, as a kind of political figure, the better. The less we import the bad habits that come from our current political culture, the more truly we will be dealing with reality. The Church is not moved by mass opinion, nor is it ultimately guided by political maneuvering. Holiness moves God’s kingdom; humility shakes the powers of darkness; prayer influences the course of history.
Let us then meet our new Pope with prayer, and with affection and respect, as the one who holds Peter’s office. Let us think of him and deal with him, not as an elected official for whom we may or may not have voted, but as our Holy Father and the Vicar of Christ. Let us be ready to offer obedience and respect, remembering that the Pope does not answer to us. Like St. Peter, he answers to another; he stands before the judgment seat of Christ himself, and will need to give an account of his office to his Master.
The peace of Christ
Finally, seeing all through the eyes of faith, let us remain in the peace of Christ. Let us remember that God is not worried. He loves mightily, and he takes concern for all things, but he is not anxious about the state of the world or of the Church. Likewise, we who belong to Christ should not be worried. We are rightly attentive to the needs of the time during which God has chosen for us to be alive, and we take seriously the spiritual battles the Lord has called us to. But we rest in the peace of Christ, which is not a peace separate from warfare, but one that allows us to do battle against darkness in the midst of a deeper calm. Many of the great saints were people of intense activity; but they remained at peace, knowing that it is God who is at work in us to will and to work for his good pleasure.
