Sistine slumber party

Soon 117 cardinals will convene in the Sistine chapel to elect Pope John Paul II’s successor, the new head of the Catholic Church. According to tradition, they will all swear an oath of secrecy and be kept under lock and key, completely isolated from the outside world--no communication in or out will be allowed--until they elect the new Pope. The upcoming papal election has become the news channels’ latest obsession, and the whole world is watching, either out of sincere interest or from lack of anything else on television. Every network is competing to educate the public on the inner workings of the upcoming papal election—where the cardinals will sleep, how they will vote, and who might emerge as the new Pontiff. The news anchors paint images of sober, elderly men, gravely sitting in the quiet beauty of the Sistine chapel, communing with God and struggling with their all-important decision. But the news channels don’t really know what goes on in Conclave, and I can’t help thinking that they might be way off.

Imagine how excited these cardinals must be. Sure, the Pope just died and the whole Church is in a state of mourning, but John Paul II has been the Pope for 26 years—there hasn’t been a papal election since 1979, and only three of the 117 cardinals participated in it. These guys might look completely somber, but inside each of them feels like an impatient kid itching to slide up and down the pew.

They’ve got the jitters—no better than a bunch of nine year olds heading off to their first slumber party. How often do they get a chance to clear their schedules of sermons and potlucks to fly to Vatican City for an indeterminate amount of time? Don’t be fooled by the simplicity of their outfits—it’s guaranteed that each one of them fretted over which black robes and red beanie he should pack for Italy. (How cold is it in Rome these days? Should I bring a cardigan in case it’s chilly in the Chapel?)

And yes, they have a job to do, but four elections per day leaves a lot of time for prayer, personal mediation, as well as a little backgammon before lights out. And this time they won’t be sleeping in cramped corners or on metal cots in the hallway. Instead, they’ll make use of the pristine Domus Santae Marthae, a hotel-style building within the Vatican, complete with personal bathrooms. How solemn and self-important can one feel when there’s a brand new bed to jump on? If any broken hips come out of this Conclave I’ll have my doubts about the ‘I slipped in the shower’ explanation.

And what about the personal relations between these cardinals? Some will know each other, and some won’t but will become buddies. The three seasoned veterans who helped elect John Paul II in ’79 will gravitate towards one another and strut brashly about the hallways, joking privately about ‘these young punks who think they know everything.’ The youngest of the punks—a handful of cardinals in their mid-fifties—will feel juvenile and spry amongst all of the elder men and inevitably band together out of feelings of mutual youthfulness. During the first election on Day One they will sit in the back of the Chapel and quickly deteriorate into fits of giggles when Cardinal Ratzinger starts his speech about the importance of cardinal responsibility. Later that evening, Cardinal Ratzinger will regret reprimanding them so harshly in front of everyone when he is too late at discovering the plastic wrap on his personal toilet bowl.

But not to worry—unlike nine year olds these men are taught to forgive and love their fellow man. By the end of Conclave Ratzie and the boys will have made up over a bag of low-fat microwave popcorn, shared cheerfully at the pajama party screening of Bruce Almighty.