Throwing Their Red Hats Into The Ring

It

will be a sad occasion, but it will come. Dressed in their ceremonial red robes, as many as 135 Roman Catholic Cardinals from around the globe, representing 1 billion followers, will gather deep within the Vatican to elect a successor to Pope John Paul II, one of the longest-serving Pontiffs in history but a mortal being nonetheless. The vote will take place in secret and will be guided, according to church doctrine, by the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Which man the College of Cardinals will smile on no one knows, but there is reason to believe this much: the process of choosing the future Holy Father has already begun.

Not that anyone is campaigning for the job--at least not openly. Running for Pope is a peculiar affair, mostly because one is not supposed to do it. In 1996, two years after he broke his leg and set in motion what some observers see as a quiet struggle to succeed him, John Paul II, like Paul VI before him, explicitly forbade the Cardinals to so much as chat about the matter of the next Pontiff. Still, in the media, candidates cropped up, and lately the speculation has grown intense, fueled by John Paul's declining health--at almost 81, he shows the symptoms of Parkinson's disease--and by a flurry of Vatican activity. Last month 44 Cardinals were installed, and in May the princes of the church will again travel to Rome for a wide-ranging discussion on Catholicism in the new millennium.

So who will it be? If the question were only that simple. Positioning oneself for Popehood is a catch-22 on a cosmic scale. To be a front runner in the race is, according to church tradition, a formula for losing it. "He who goes into the conclave as Pope comes out a Cardinal," goes the Roman maxim. Take the case of the Colombian Cardinal Dario Castrillon Hoyos, 71, one of several so-called papabili (Italian for "Popables"). Castrillon Hoyos speaks several languages and possesses an attractive combination of real-world pastoral experience and inside-the-Vatican bureaucratic savvy. In 1999, his compatriot Gabriel Garcia Marquez sang his praises in print, recalling how the Cardinal had dressed as a civilian to meet with drug lord Pablo Escobar, and explicitly calling Castrillon Hoyos a contender. The article, in the eyes of some, raised Castrillon Hoyos' profile a bit too high.

If one hopes to be Pope, it's important not to say so, but hiding one's light entirely is not wise either. Like junior professors on track for tenure, some papabili are prolific authors. Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini's commentary on the Gospel of Mark is currently making the rounds and Cardinal Dionigi Tettemanzi published the 650-page New Christian Bioethics last year. A little strategic globe hopping may help too. Ray Flynn, the former U.S. ambassador to the Holy See, believes that to rank the papabili it's important to "get their frequent-flyer reports." A lifelong Catholic, Flynn is both idealistic and realistic about the undeclared campaign for Pope. "It's the Holy Spirit, but you have to have your bumper stickers ready," he says.

Besides suppressing one's will to power, there are other dos and don'ts for would-be Pontiffs. The addition of 11 Cardinals from Latin America, where half the world's Roman Catholics now reside, suggests that it's important to speak Spanish. The sheer number of Cardinals--most of whom see one another only rarely--would seem to favor talented networkers. Being in shape is a plus. The 33-day reign of John Paul I underlined the need for papal stamina, which may be one reason that Castrillion Hoyos rides an Exercycle. A moderate public image can't hurt either. Most of the Cardinals under 80 and therefore eligible to vote are doctrinal conservatives. John Paul named 92% of them. But it's possible to take too hard a line, as when Cardinal Giacomo Biffi urged the Italian government last year to favor Catholic immigrants over Muslims.

One big no-no: being an American. Vatican watchers agree that as long as the U.S. dominates the world economically and militarily, it will have to take a backseat spiritually. No one, it seems, wants a superpower Pope. But what about a Third World Pontiff? Talk of a Latin American has grown. Aside from Castrillon Hoyos, the buzz focuses on Cardinal Oscar Andres Rodriguez Maradiaga, the Archbishop of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. John Paul is the first non-Italian Pope since the early 1500s. A Honduran successor looks like a stretch.

So the guessing goes on, and guessing is all it is. The Vatican handicappers are a subtle bunch, so sensitive to signs and signals that they can sound like conspiracy theorists. "Today, from the little I know, all these guys [the Cardinals] have e-mail," says Francis Burkle-Young, author of Passing the Keys and a veteran church observer. "You don't see anything in public. It's really a matter of conversations to feel out blocs. A couple of people let me see corners of it." Burkle-Young believes that the fix is in and that an Italian will return to the papacy when the ballots are counted.

To many Catholics, the whole idea that Cardinals compete for Popehood is mistaken and even offensive. After all, the choice of John Paul II surprised the world, as did every other recent papal election except for that of Paul VI in 1963. Certainly the fateful role the current Pope has played in history--hastening Europe's escape from Soviet communism--has, for many, an otherworldly quality. Will the Holy Spirit indeed pick the new Pope? Perhaps, but it will have only human beings from which to choose.