Conclave

“Some are chosen to be shepherds, and others are needed to manage the farm. Yours is not a pastoral role. You are not a shepherd. You are a manager.”

Lomeli’s relationship with the late pope complicates his crisis of faith. Part of Lomeli’s backstory includes this memory of the late pope rejecting Lomeli’s desire for monastic life to keep him on as a manager, suggesting that the solution to a crisis of faith is not a life of prayer, but active engagement with one’s doubt. This passage also increases the ambiguity around Benítez’s support of Lomeli throughout the conclave, because the late pope previously shared his assessments of the senior Vatican officials with him.

“His war with the Vatican’s old guard had started right here, on that issue, on his first day. When some of the heads of the Curia had demurred at his decision as not being appropriate for the dignity of a Pope, he had quoted at them, as if they were schoolboys, Christ’s instruction to his disciples: Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money; and do not have two tunics. From then on, being human, they had felt his reproachful eye upon them every time they went home to their grand official apartments; and, being human, they had resented it.”

Although the late pope is virtually absent from the narrative, his presence looms large over the conclave at the center of the novel. This passage gives a sense of the tenor of his papacy and the position points of his rivals and supporters. This is crucial for establishing The Politics of Religion as a theme.

“‘You know that he had doubts himself, by the end?’

‘The Pope had doubts about God?’

‘Not about God! Never about God!’ And then Bellini said something Lomeli would never forget. ‘What he had lost faith in was the Church.’”

The final lines of the first chapter introduce a mystery that Lomeli feels driven to solve while he is managing the conclave. With the late pope’s political positions established in the previous passage, the revelation that the pope was troubled by the workings of his own Church hints at the dark underbelly of an institution that proclaims itself a moral authority. The stakes of this mystery are also personal for Lomeli, as he believes that the pope’s doubts may resonate with his own crisis of faith.

“These days the College of Cardinals was felt to be too large and too multinational for such Renaissance flummery. Still, there was a part of Lomeli that rather hankered after Renaissance flummery, and privately he thought the late Pope had occasionally gone too far in his endless harping on about simplicity and humility. An excess of simplicity, after all, was just another form of ostentation, and pride in one’s humility a sin.”

This passage demonstrates Lomeli’s affection for the pageantry that marked the old days of the Church. It signals his openness to the traditionalist stance of Tedesco and foreshadows the reluctance of some liberal cardinals to commit to Bellini’s platforms as a potential pope.

“He tried to tell himself that his feelings of inadequacy were simply proof of a proper humility. He was the Cardinal-Bishop of Ostia […] In all of these positions, however nominal, he had played an active part: had preached sermons and celebrated Mass and heard confessions. But one could be the grandest prince of the Universal Church and still lack the most basic skills of the commonest country priest. If only he had experienced life in an ordinary parish, just for a year or two! Instead, ever since his ordination, his path of service—first as a professor of canon law, then as a diplomat, and finally, briefly, as Secretary of State—had seemed only to lead him away from God rather than towards Him. The higher he had climbed, the further heaven had receded. And now it fell to him, of all unworthy creatures, to guide his fellow cardinals in choosing the man who should hold the Keys of St Peter.”

This passage highlights how Lomeli’s priestly life has been defined by his escalation to the highest ranks of the Vatican. He has never really served as a pastor, which not only aligns with the late pope’s assessment of him, but also puts him in contrast with Benítez, whose pastoral work has been devoted to the care of survivors of war, sexual abuse, and poverty.

“‘Leave it to God, my friend. If it’s His will, it will happen; if not, not.’

‘But I’m not merely God’s passive instrument, Jacopo. I have some say in the matter. He gave us free will.’ He lowered his voice so that the others couldn’t hear. ‘It’s not that I want it, you understand? No sane man could possibly want the papacy.’

‘Some of our colleagues seem to.’

‘Well then they’re fools, or worse.’”

Bellini is defined by his reluctance to assume the papacy, as demonstrated in this passage. He stresses it as a matter of principle, calling ambitious people like Tremblay and Tedesco fools. Lomeli is uncertain, however, whether this is merely a façade to protect both Bellini’s pride and his potential as a frontrunner.

“He was dressed in a plain black cassock. His head was bare, no skullcap. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his rosary in his hands, looking down and apparently praying. A lock of dark hair obscured his face.”

Cardinal Benítez is introduced as a silent, mysterious figure, foreshadowing the enigma that surrounds his character. His simplicity, which comes across with an air of deception, is a key element of his character. He claims to be a cardinal but bears none of the physical signs that define the other cardinals, such as his plain dress.

“[H]e could see exactly why this missionary-priest would have appealed to the Holy Father, who had so often stated his belief that God was most readily encountered in the poorest and most desperate places on earth, not in the comfortable parishes of the First World, and that it took courage to go out and find Him. […] Benítez was precisely the sort of man who would never rise through the layers of Church appointments—who would not even dream of trying to do so—and who would always be awkward socially. How else then was he to be catapulted into the College of Cardinals except by an extraordinary act of patronage?”

This passage contrasts Benítez against the vast majority of cardinals at the narrative’s center, including Lomeli. Harris combines Benítez’s natural aversion to careerism with his missionary approach to pastoral care. In this way, the late pope’s critique of the extravagance of the Church extends to Lomeli’s careerism as well.

“The Universal Church? But how can a thing be considered universal if it speaks fifty different languages? Language is vital. Because from language, over time, arises thought, and from thought arises philosophy and culture. It has been sixty years since the Second Vatican Council, but already what it means to be a Catholic in Europe is no longer the same as what it means to be a Catholic in Africa, or Asia, or South America. We have become a confederation, at best. Look around the room, Dean—look at the way language divides us over even such a simple meal as this, and tell me there is not truth in what I say.”

Tedesco makes an appeal for traditionalism, arguing that the early days of the Church were marked by a unity of thought and language. Key to his argument is the allusion to the Second Vatican Council, which historically set off a period of liberalist changes to Church practices. More than representing the interests of a small group, Tedesco represents a whole worldview about the practice of religion.

“Tell them I stand for everything he does not. His beliefs are sincere, but they are sincere nonsense. We are never returning to the days of Latin liturgy, and priests celebrating Mass with their backs to the congregation, and families of ten children because Mamma and Papà know no better. It was an ugly, repressive time, and we should be joyful that it has passed. Tell them that I stand for respecting other faiths, and for tolerating differing views within our own Church. Tell them I believe the bishops should have greater powers and that women should play more of a role within the Curia—”

In contrast to Tedesco, Bellini presents himself as the quintessential liberal candidate, representing radical reform in the practice of the Catholic religion, even with regard to the participation of women in the leadership of the Church. The radical quality of his beliefs challenges the support of his followers as they are willing to back Bellini to resist Tedesco but unwilling to subscribe to his platform. The contrast between Tedesco and Bellini is essential for driving the politics of religion as a theme.

“He had imagined himself a warrior within a knightly caste […] He had gloried in his solitariness. It was only when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer that he had begun to brood on what he had missed. Because what was he nowadays? No longer a shining knight: just another impotent old fellow, no more heroic than the average patient in a nursing home. Sometimes he wondered what had been the point of it all. The night-time pang was no longer of lust; it was of regret.”

Harris deepens Lomeli’s personal crisis by contrasting his earlier life to his present life. In the past, Lomeli saw the potential of his priesthood as a source of meaning. Now that he is moving closer to the end of his life, he no longer feels that sense of potential. This suggests that his faith is tied to the resolute quality of meaning, which comes at odds with his present experience of doubt. This drives the challenge of faith as a theme.

“Paul tells the Ephesians—who were, let us remember, a mixture of Gentiles and Jews—that God’s gift to the Church is its variety: some are created by Him to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and others teachers, who ‘together make a unity in the work of service, building up the body of Christ.’ They make a unity in the work of service. These are different people—one may suppose strong people, with forceful personalities, unafraid of persecution—serving the Church in their different ways: it is the work of service that brings them together and makes the Church. God could, after all, have created a single archetype to serve Him. Instead, He created what a naturalist might call a whole ecosystem of mystics and dreamers and practical builders—managers, even—with different strengths and impulses, and from these He fashioned the body of Christ.”

Lomeli uses the sermon before the conclave to speak to his insecurities about being in charge of the forthcoming election. In this passage from his homily, he uses the word “manager” to describe his place in the diverse ecosystem of the Church. This echoes the late pope’s private assessment of him, suggesting that he can only understand his place in the Church if he views it as a site of tolerance and diversity. If the Church only has room for shepherds, then Lomeli does not feel as if he can belong.

“Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance […] Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty, and if there was no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith.”

Lomeli also uses the sermon to allude to his crisis of faith. Later, the College of Cardinals will have an incendiary reaction to his call for doubt, which is an unintended consequence of Lomeli’s choice at the moment. This speaks to Lomeli’s solipsism, which contributes to his confusion in the aftermath of the mass.

“‘My dear friend, every man in this building has a chance, at least in theory. And every cardinal has entertained the fantasy, if nothing else, that one day he might be elected, and has selected the name by which he would like his papacy to be known.’

‘Well I haven’t…’

‘Deny it if you like, but go away and search your heart and then tell me it isn’t so.’”

In this passage, Bellini tries to imply that Lomeli, too, has secret ambitions for the papacy, suggesting that none of the cardinals are truly exempt from that desire because they are so close to fulfilling it. This foreshadows Lomeli’s private proposal of the papal name “John,” confirming Bellini’s suspicions in this chapter. It also speaks to the theme of Human Ambition and Divine Providence, highlighting Lomeli’s efforts to bury his ambitions in the deepest part of his heart.

“Any man who is truly worthy must consider himself unworthy. Isn’t that the point you were making in your homily? That without doubt there can be no faith? It resonated with my own experience. The scenes I witnessed in Africa especially would make any man sceptical of God’s mercy.”

Benítez relates to Lomeli by sharing his experience as a missionary in Baghdad. Importantly, his agreement with Lomeli’s point not only allows him to fulfill Bellini’s criterion for worthiness—reluctance to accept the role—but also Lomeli’s—the capacity for doubt.

“It was one thing to dread becoming Pope; it was another altogether to confront the sudden reality that it was never going to happen—that after years of being regarded as the heir apparent, your peers had looked you over and God had guided their choice elsewhere.”

This passage underlines human ambition and divine providence as a theme by depicting the private grief the frontrunners suffer as they watch their dreams of the papacy slip through their fingers. That grief marks the humbling of their ambition as they realize that their dream represents their flawed human wills, rather than the will of God manifested through the collective will of the conclave.

“Lomeli had raised her to her feet and absolved her. ‘It is not you who has sinned, my child, it is the Church.’”

In this passage, Lomeli absolves Shanumi of the guilt that has burdened her for much of her life. Significantly, Lomeli doesn’t mention Adeyemi’s name when he absolves Shanumi, ascribing the fault instead to the entire Church. He places the burden of guilt on the administrators who reassigned Adeyemi, the systems that failed to hold him accountable, and the forces that leveraged Shanumi as a pawn in the conclave. This quote illustrates the politics of religion as a theme by underlining the human cost of the cardinals’ ambitions and lifestyles

“To think that if they hadn’t broken for lunch, Adeyemi might by now be Pope! Instead of which, the dream of the African pontiff was dead.”

This brief passage illustrates the theme of human ambition and divine providence with its assessment of the serendipity of Adeyemi’s scandal coming to light so close to his election as pope. Although Sister Shanumi’s assignment at the conclave is later revealed to have been orchestrated by Tremblay, the timing of their altercation and his lead in the ballot is too close to be incidental. This is echoed later on by the serendipitous explosion that occurs shortly after Lomeli chooses to vote for himself in the ballot.

“Or how many have had friendships that became too intimate, and led on to sin and heartbreak? Or poor silly Tutino and his wretched apartment—without a family, one can so easily become obsessed with matters of status and protocol to give one a sense of fulfilment. So tell me: am I supposed to go around like some witchfinder general, searching for my colleagues’ lapses of more than thirty years ago?”

Lomeli wrestles with his role as a neutral force in the conclave. Although he is supposed to manage the election with an impartial eye, he cannot help answering to his conscience when he discovers a damning new truth about one of the frontrunners. He tries to prevent himself from learning more about the others, acknowledging that every cardinal has some sin to feel guilty over, to preserve his impartiality as a moderator.

“‘A schism would go against everything I have believed in and worked for throughout my entire life.’

‘Which is what?’

‘The divine gift of the single Universal Church.’

‘And this unity of an institution is worth preserving even at the price of breaking one’s sacred oath?’”

In this passage, Benítez challenges Lomeli to see how his oath to the conclave forces him to choose between his devotion to the Church as an institution and his mission to serve the faithful. As a career-long official of the Vatican, Lomeli has always associated the integrity of the institution with his mission as a priest. Coming from missionary work, Benítez offers the perspective that this view has prevented the Church from fulfilling its mission, which is tied to the direction of its leader, the pope.

“No one who follows their conscience ever does wrong, Your Eminence. The consequences may not turn out as we intend; it may prove in time that we made a mistake. But that is not the same as being wrong. The only guide to a person’s actions can ever be their conscience, for it is in our conscience that we most clearly hear the voice of God.”

Following the exposure of Tremblay’s scandal, Lomeli seeks guidance and consolation from Benítez, whose challenge catalyzed his actions. In this passage, Benítez reassures him that he has acted according to his conscience. Although he may feel that he made a mistake, he has fulfilled his moral oath to God as his judge.

“He was not so solipsistic as to believe that a bomb had gone off merely because he had written his own name on a piece of paper. But he was not so prosaic that he did not believe in the interconnectedness of things. How else to interpret the timing of the blast, which had struck with the precision of a thunderbolt, except as a sign that God was displeased with these machinations?”

Once again, Harris uses the serendipity of two unrelated events to explore the connection between human ambition and divine providence. Lomeli cannot help but see the explosion as some kind of divine response to his ambition. Another way to read the relationship between these events is as a reminder of what Lomeli must manage next, should he be elected pope.

“Do you see, at the top of the painting, the shrouds of darkness? I used to think they were merely clouds, but now I’m sure it is smoke. There is a fire somewhere, beyond our field of vision, that Michelangelo chooses not to show us—a symbol of violence, of battle, strife […] Surely because he is determined not to surrender to the violence being done to him. He is using his last reserves of strength to demonstrate his faith and his humanity. He wishes to maintain his equilibrium in defiance of a world that, for him, is literally turning upside down.

Isn’t this a sign for us today, from the founder of the Church?”

Lomeli reflects upon the fresco of St. Peter’s crucifixion, a symbol of the challenges that the Church faces in a hostile, chaotic world. When the fresco appeared earlier in the novel, it reminded Lomeli of his own insecurities, intimidating him. In this scene, it galvanizes him to act, reminding him that every leader of the Church has faced overwhelming odds to carry out its mission.