Saturday, Apr. 16, 2005

Vatican Diary: A New Papacy Begins

By Jeff Israely

Friday, April 22, 11 pm, Vatican City
I was rushing out as the crowd was rushing in. It was about six minutes after the bells began to toll over St. Peter's Square, confirming that the smoke was white and we indeed had a Papam. The descending swarm from every direction into the piazza was dazzling, but I was the only soul going in the other direction. This was going to be a case of the reporter missing the experience for the sake of the story. The plan for our three-person team, which included TIME colleagues Jordan Bonfante and Marguerite Michaels, was that I would follow the announcement from the Vatican press office in case the name was released a few moments before to reporters (as they'd done when John Paul II died). With the identity of the new pontiff in hand, I would then zip over to the nearby Catholic bookstores and buy whatever titles had been written about and by the new pope. For some of the papabile candidates, we figured there might only be one or two volumes relating to his life and work, and we wanted to be prepared for the cover package for next week's issue of TIME.

POPE BENEDICT XVI
Assessing the New Pope
Photos: The New Pope
TIME 100: Cardinal Ratzinger
Send Us Your Thoughts
The Next Pope (Jan. 2005)
TIME on Ratzinger (1993)
The New Papal Job Specs
Web Exclusive
Daily reports from the scene in Vatican City
The New Bishop of Rome
Ratzinger Gets a Cold
Top 10 Papal Candidates
The Conclave's Length
Cardinals Do Lunch
Chasing Italian Cardinals
Reading the Silence
The Return of Cardinal Law
Learn more about the Papacy in the TIME Archive
TIME Covers: Popes
TIME Archive Home
Collection: John Paul II
Commemorative Reprint
Digital Magazine: 1978

This deployment arrangement would be a bit of a personal sacrifice, forcing me to miss the big moment in the piazza. But as the permanent Rome correspondent, I know my way around the press office and the local bookstores better than my colleagues from out of town, who could collect the color and reaction from the crowd. Still, even after seven years in Rome, I continue to forget how things really work here. The bookstores were closing down just as I arrived. The owners also wanted to be in the piazza for Habemus Papam! And so thanks to them, I would be there too, not watching the press room TV screen, but living the swirl of history that unfolded from that central balcony of St. Peter's.

The past three weeks will not be easily forgotten, both on a professional and personal level. For seven years, I had watched Pope John Paul II from near and far, and had come to admire him perhaps like no other figure I'd ever covered. Of course, I'd missed his prime: the outcries from his unpopular stances on Church doctrine, his inspiring globetrotting and world-changing ways. But I did get to see flashes of his famous charisma, both in occasional moments of physical and verbal strength and in the way he faced down illness and death with utter dignity. At the time, it was difficult to watch John Paul's final two appearances from his window in the papal apartments last month. But when we will watch it in the future, that final frail and pained image just a few days from death will fit in perfectly alongside his other moments of extraordinary strength and courage: standing up to the Communist regime in Poland, calling on Mafia warlords in Sicily to repent, slipping in a private prayer in the Western Wall in Jerusalem.

In the two weeks since, his eventual successor Joseph Ratzinger has put on a tour de force that would impress Karol Wojtyla. Now that he is Pope Benedict XVI, it all seems pre-destined. But back when TIME reported a story in early January saying then Cardinal Ratzinger had reemerged as a leading frontrunner for the papacy, it was still difficult for many to imagine. One Vatican source told me this week that some colleagues were laughing about the piece when it came out, thinking Ratzinger was long since out of the running because he'd been branded as a doctrinal hardliner and unpleasant bureaucrat. But in fact, my sources were on target. Still, to go from frontrunner to Pope required that Ratzinger demonstrated that he was indeed a many-sided man, but always a holy one. "He took it to another level," was how one Vatican official put it. While I salute Jordan and Marguerite, who brought TIME's coverage in Rome to another level, I'm set to cover this papacy from the outset. I will make sure to keep one foot in the bookstore and the other in the piazza — and do my best to miss neither the story, nor the experience.


Tuesday, April 19, 11 pm, Vatican City
Romans have an old adage that captures their world-wise acceptance of life's minor calamities: "When a Pope dies," they say, "you find another." Inhabitants of the Eternal City, which has absorbed so much history, apply the metaphor when governments fall or jobs are lost or a bus breaks down. And indeed, as we have witnessed today and over the past two weeks, the Roman Catholic Church remains quite adept at filling a void even as large as the loss of John Paul II. Replacing an absolute monarch without the benefit of bloodlines is no mean task. Taking an ancient religious rite of passage and turning it into a two-week-long worldwide broadcast spectacle, with the only glitch a few minutes of gray smoke, may indeed require the Holy Spirit on your side.

Despite the worldwide interest, Pope Ratzinger—I still need some time to get used to saying Benedict XVI—may be wise to focus first on the people of Rome. Along with being the Vicar of Christ and the Supreme Pontiff of the Church, the pope is also the bishop of this city—and the Romans feel it. Fabrizio Magnani, a 65-year-old real estate broker was on his way to meet a client near St. Peter's when the radio announced white smoke and ringing bells. He parked his car as soon as he could and joined "a river of people" rushing into the Piazza to see who would be the new pontiff. "In Rome, the pope is something all our own," he said, waiting in the raucous square just minutes before the name was announced in Latin. "We're used to seeing him out here every Sunday, every Wednesday. And when there's no pope, it's like not having bread."

The cupboard is full again. Unlike when the virtually unknown Papa Wojtyla was elected 26 years ago, the 78-year-old German has been a major public presence here for more than two decades. And the Romans, and Italians more generally, will be the first to gauge how "Cardinale Ratzinger" will evolve into "Il Papa." His predecessor, who was the first non-Italian pope in 455 years, won over many hearts the very first evening he spoke to the Piazza: "I will speak in your, OUR language," he toned to the faithful below. "And when I make a mistake, you will correct me!" Ratzinger already speaks flawless Italian (as well as half-a-dozen other languages), and may have won over some with his moving homily at John Paul's funeral 10 days ago. This evening, he actually stumbled over a few words in his first greeting as Pope, but Romans got to see the widest smile ever seen from the sometimes-severe Ratzinger. Still he may have other kinds of corrections to make. He was seen by progressives here, like in the U.S. and elsewhere in the West, as the symbol of the last papacy's doctrinal rigidity. To those in step with Pope John Paul's theological stance, Ratzinger was part guru and part policy wonk on the most fundamental Church questions.

But he has a new job now. As he did tonight, he will have to speak directly to the people, who will inevitably judge him against the standard of his imposing predecessor, friend and boss. This small, unassuming white-haired figure who we will now and forever know as Benedict XVI told the piazza this evening that he was just a "simple, humble worker in the vineyard of the Lord." Now he must begin to fill the role of pastor, of leader of the flock, a shepherd who can move the faithful and cast his own large shadow across this grand piazza, this blessed city, and a turbulent world outside.



Monday, April 18, 11 pm, Vatican City
Ratzinger Under the Weather
Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger has a cold. The sniffles and hoarse voice didn't stop the 78-year-old German from giving a forceful homily this morning in the final public mass before the 115 elector cardinals were locked off from the world. But when I heard him cough, when I saw him reach for a handkerchief from the sleeve of his scarlet vestments, I remembered a conversation I had last week with a Vatican insider convinced that Ratzinger was perfectly positioned to succeed John Paul II. "Anything can happen of course," the source told me. "Ratzinger could wake up Monday with a cold." There's obviously no way to know if some undecided cardinals saw a sign from above in Ratzinger's minor health hiccup, or if it reminded others that he may be too old. But the rest of us are looking for signals everywhere while we wait for the only one that counts: the Sistine's white smoke. As expected, the first puff this evening was black, though the atmosphere in St. Peter's Square was just short of electrifying, with some of the tens of thousands gathered surging closer to the Basilica as the first wisps of smoke came out just after 8 p.m. local time. Tuesday the real drama will begin, as any subsequent vote could be the one to push one of the Cardinals over the two-thirds necessary to claim the papacy.

In search of any other signs, a Roman friend told me about an old Italian fable that tells of a boy who can understand what the animals are saying to each other. The special gift saves the young lad from a litany of perilous encounters until one evening, while resting under a tree with two friends, he hears two little birds sharing the news from Rome that the Pope had died. The cardinals are set to elect a successor, one bird tells the other, and one of the three boys under the tree will be the next pope. This of course sends the protagonist off to Rome, leaving his two oblivious companions behind. Once in the eternal city, as ancient legend holds, a dove landed on his head, designating him as the next pontiff. And the boy went on to be one of the great popes in history.

With no sightings of any dove landings in St. Peter's today, we were left pondering Cardinal Ratzinger's speech from the morning mass, the last sign to the outside world of the 115 electors communicating amongst themselves. Assigned the honor as the dean of the College of Cardinals, Ratzinger gave another homily, like the one delivered at John Paul's funeral last Friday, that was eloquent and direct. Today we saw a side of Ratzinger that was very different from the unifying figure who so gracefully and humbly eulogized the Pope. The message inside St. Peter's was clear: the truth of Catholic Church teaching is absolute, and its pastors must guard against "a dictatorship of relativism" that dominates modern society. An aide to a European voting Cardinal was not convinced: "It's what a lot of Cardinals in there want to hear, but it's not the right message at this moment in the Church's history." Later, I was chatting with National Catholic Reporter's Vatican correspondent John Allen, who said "if there is any doubt that Ratzinger was campaigning for the job, this makes it clear he was not. That's not the homily of someone who wants to convince the undecided Cardinals." Still, Ratzinger path to the job was never to campaign, but to hold firm to his unwavering certainty about the truth of the Gospels. Cold, or no cold.



Sunday, April 17, 8 pm, Vatican City
Our Top Ten Papal Candidates

The unique high-stakes and secret campaign for electing a pope rides a pendulum between the sacred and the profane. At this late hour, the latter seems predominant as bookies grow busier and politicking amongst the cardinals sharpens. Inside the Conclave, which begins on Monday, all of that is supposed to give way to each cardinal�s most holy obligation to seek out the right man to be the 264th successor to Peter. Still, the race today appears no more predictable than it did two weeks ago. But I�ll run the risk of declaring my Top 10 papal candidates, though I�ve included a safety net as No. 5. But not even that is foolproof, since Church law allows that any baptized male can be elected Pope. So good luck to all of those you out there!

1. DIONIGI TETTAMANZI, 71, Archbishop of Milan. A compromise candidate who could satisfy the minority progressives and reassure the traditionalists. It may be the most painless path to the necessary two-thirds required for election.

2. JOSEPH RATZINGER, 78, German head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Respected by all cardinals, but feared by some as too divisive. Considered the best adapted to finish off John Paul II�s doctrinal legacy.

3. IVAN DIAS, 69, Archbishop of Bombay. Strong diplomatic experience and friend of the Roman Curia, who would represent a bold choice from the developing world.

4. JORGE MARIO BERGOGLIO, 68, Archbishop of Buenos Aires. A South American respected among the conservative crowd in Rome. Would be first Jesuit pope.

5. ONE OF THE 106 VOTING CARDINALS NOT ON THIS LIST!?

6. CHRISTOPH SCHONBORN, 60, Archbishop of Vienna. Wojtyla-esque charisma with a nice touch of noble blood. Master linguist and stalwart on doctrine.

7. CAMILLO RUINI, 74, Vicar of Rome. Best positioned backup to Ratzinger as an option for a transitional papacy.

8. NORBERTO RIVERA CARRERA, 62, Archbishop of Mexico City. Unwavering on traditional doctrine, and carries himself with papal eminence.

9. CLAUDIO HUMMES, 70, Archbishop of Sao Paolo. Appealing alternative for moderates. Seemed to lose momentum over the past two weeks, though reportedly spoke passionately about missionary work in the Cardinals� last official pre-conclave meeting.

10. JOSE SARAIVA MARTINS, 73, Portuguese head of Congregation for the Causes of Saints. An outsider compromise candidate with an affable air. He could appeal both to Latin America and the Roman Curia.



Saturday, April 16, 10 pm, Vatican City
How the Conclave's Duration May Determine its Choice
Beyond the question of 'Who? ' is the question of 'When?' Even amid the constant swirl of names of potential papal candidates, we are also trying to figure out how long the conclave might last. The answer to the second question may in fact help to answer the first. For example, a flash conclave that lasts just one or two days (one to five ballots) would most likely mean that one of the clear frontrunners will stride out above St. Peter�s Square as the new Pope: Joseph Ratzinger of Germany, Dionigi Tettamanzi of Italy, or Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina. These are figures that the Cardinals are already pondering as you read this, and may be prepared to rally behind from the moment the voting begins on Monday afternoon. If things begin to drag out, it may very well mean that the Cardinals — or at least the necessary two thirds — were not convinced by the initial choices, and have been forced to look elsewhere. One name that has continued to pop up in the Italian press this week is the Archbishop of Lisbon, Jose da Cruz Policarpo, 69, who could be a compromise candidate, with strong links to both Europe and Latin America.

Still, like the names themselves, scenarios about the timing are speculative. The cardinals could, in these final 48 hours before they move together into the Santa Marta hotel inside the Vatican, begin to converge on an outsider to point to in the early voting. Or they could find themselves waiting in vain to see if someone new emerges in the early balloting, before turning to one of the established figures. In any case, if there is no Pope by Friday, alarms of "A Church Divided!" may start ringing around the world.

This pre-conclave period has been like no other in modern history. Beyond the mass media attention, and the corresponding reaction of the Cardinals to clam up, there is the simple fact that the election of a Polish pope last time has opened the range of potential pontiffs to the whole world — every pope of the previous 455 years had been Italian, meaning that prognosticating elections meant sizing up the candidates from Italy, and perhaps dropping in a foreign papabile for good luck. Instead, over the past two weeks, just about every hypothesis from every corner of the globe has been whispered in our ears: Australia's George Pell, Italy's Severino Poletto, Canada's Mark Ouellet, Chile's Juan Luis Cipriani Thorne, Ukraine's Lubomyr, United States' Theodore McCarrick. Each, for a different reason, seems highly improbable. Someone even dropped the name of the Cardinal from Lyon Philippe Barbarin to my colleague Jordan Bonfante, who promptly looked him up in the Vatican's Annuario Pontificio, to find he was born in 1950. �Sure," Jordan quipped, "a French babyboomer!?"

Jordan well knows the folly of seeking that magic name. Currently a contributor in Berlin, he had been TIME's Rome bureau chief in 1978. The week before the conclave that elected the virtually unknown Karol Wojtyla, TIME was one of just a handful of publications in the world to include him on its list of papabile. For years it was a legendary scoop in TIME circles. Jordan recalled last week that the first tip that the next pope might be Wojtyla did not come from on high, but was given to correspondent Roland Flamini by the young owner of a small Catholic book store. But back then, without a press blackout, they could at least run the name by a Cardinal or two. This year, we won't be making predictions in the magazine, but tune in tomorrow on TIME.COM for my top 10 papal candidates.

Friday, April 15, 11 pm, Vatican City
Time is getting short, folks. Less than 72 hours until the 115 elector Cardinals will stride into the Sistine Chapel and take a vow to "observe faithfully and scrupulously" the secret and solemn rite for electing the next Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church. Truly reliable information continues to be scant, but several emerging hypotheses offer an indication of how the voting may go. Though my Cardinal sources have been faithful to their self-imposed press ban, I have continued to talk to a number of Vatican officials and others who are in touch with Cardinals, about the possible scenarios and the viability of different candidates.

At the moment, an initial duel appears to be shaping up between Germany's Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger and Italy's Dionigi Cardinal Tettamanzi. The former Archbishop of Munich, who for the past 23 years was Pope John Paul II's doctrinal watchdog, is being promoted by a swath of electors attracted to his traditional views, intellectual acuity and his knowledge of the Roman Curia. Once considered something of a firebrand, he is now seen by many as an ideal pick to carry out a "transitional" papacy after the 26-year reign of Wojtyla. Tomorrow is Ratzinger's birthday: He turns 78. Whether electors believe that is too old, or just old enough, remains to be seen.

Well-placed sources tell TIME's Vatican expert consultant Giancarlo Zizola that the reformist wing of the College of Cardinals came into the pre-conclave period weak and particularly unprepared. And since the surprise momentum of the candidacy of Ratzinger — considered the symbol of the doctrinaire tendencies of the last pontificate — former Milan Archbishop Carlo Maria Martini, 78, has led an effort to scramble for a compromise candidate to oppose the German. Ratzinger as Pope, one source told Zizola, would amount to a "symbolic and institutional registering of the defeat� of the reforms of the 1960s Second Vatican Council. Tettamanzi, who succeeded Martini in Milan, may be the man to stave off a Ratzinger rout in the early balloting. He is seen as a largely conciliatory figure who can talk with both the progressives and traditionalists. Doubts remain, however, about whether Tettamanzi has the mojo to make a formidable pope. The 71-year-old has weak foreign-language skills, and is seen as a somewhat provincial Italian figure.

One source close to Ratzinger, however, says the white-haired cardinal, who gave the homily at John Paul's funeral, is letting his colleagues know that he doesn't want to be an early candidate. If no consensus grows around an alternative, he might then be willing to be a sort of "draft" candidate, the source told me. In the secret balloting that will begin Monday afternoon, a successful candidate must receive more than two-thirds of the votes. Often, if a certain candidate starts to gain more votes through consecutive balloting, he can build the momentum necessary to reach the two-thirds threshold. Assuming that Ratzinger truly is not angling for the job, one lingering question is: Who is his preferred candidate? Three Cardinals who enjoy particular respect from their German colleague are India's Ivan Dias, Mexico City's Norberto Rivera Carrera and Vienna's Christoph Schonborn. An Italian in synch with the German's theology is Angelo Scola of Venice. But in the meantime, Happy Birthday Cardinal Ratzinger!



Thursday, April 14, 11 pm, Vatican City
I still haven't had the "caught-sneaking-inside-the-conclave" dream. But the fitful nights of the past two weeks have nontheless been filled with flashing images of Cardinals dropping folded notes in golden urns, then winking at me, and insiders whispering the name of the man who will emerge once the white smoke clears then snickering. After another busy morning of phone calls trawling for hints on the state of the race for the papacy I found myself briefly alone with an eggplant and mozzarella panino at an outside table at the Bar Gianicolo in Piazzale Aurelio, about a half-mile up the hill from St. Peter's. With the sun warm on my face, I thought I might even manage to clear my mind for a moment of all things Vatican. Fat chance. Approaching from my left, I heard the discrete siren of a one-car police escort, with a dark sedan right behind. As the cars zipped around the curve and under an arch, I could see clearly that the escorted passenger was in fact Camillo Cardinal Ruini. This was not a dream. The powerful Italian Cardinal appeared to be alone, gazing out the car window in my direction. Having just concluded the morning General Congregation session at the Vatican, Ruini was no doubt heading to lunch. By the route he was taking, I guessed his destination might be the residence of the U.S. Ambassador to the Holy See, just down the hill, perhaps to meet with some of the 11 voting American cardinals. But a senior U.S. diplomat confirmed for me that there was no lunch served today. Still, just a bit further down the hill is the residence of the Spanish Ambassador — a perfect spot for Ruini to gather the more than two-dozen or so Spanish-speaking electors. I will never know. But in my next dream, he'll be coming to share a panino with me.

With the Conclave just four days away, the identity of a senior cleric's dining company takes on serious weight. And few are more ready or able to throw weight around now than Ruini. Since 1991, he has been Vicar of Rome, responsible for the day-to-day operations of the Roman diocese. The 74-year-old also heads the Italian Bishops Conference. His constant presence on the airwaves in Italy speaking out strongly for Catholic values make him unpopular with many in secular circles who worry about Church-State separation. But he's hardly a glamorous TV star, and talk of Ruini as a papabile is greeted with skepticism. What may be more likely is that Ruini is campaigning for a fellow Italian, or perhaps for a longtime figure in the Roman Curia like Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger. Several sources have recently mentioned Ruini as a possible Secretary of State in the next pontificate if the next pope is non-Italian. There, his influence would outweigh all but the successor to John Paul II.



Wednesday, April 13, 11 pm, Vatican City
For the past three years, Milan's Dionigi Cardinal Tettamanzi has been the frontrunner to bring the papacy back to Italy after its 455-year grip on the job was broken by Karol Wojtyla. But another Italian has emerged on most papabili lists over the past year: Angelo Cardinal Scola, the Patriarch of Venice, who offers a more forceful, some would say aggressive, alternative to the affable Tettamanzi. He is considered a die-hard defender of John Paul II's strict line on Church doctrine, and one source notes that the 63-year-old doesn't waste time worrying about pleasing anyone on such matters. If his brother Cardinals perceive too much brusqueness in their meetings this week, it could hurt Scola's chances just as much as his relative youth.

But when I bumped into him this afternoon as he hurried out of an office on the Borgo Santo Spirito just off of St. Peter's Square, Scola flashed a warm smile. He wasn't wearing any of his Cardinal scarlet robes, just a simple black suit and clerical collar, but I recognized him right away by his reddish complexion and burly figure — a bespectacled version of American character actor Brian Denehey. Though an aide tried to shoo me away, I was able to ask Scola how the week was going so far. "Excellent!" he said with what seemed like authentic exuberance. "We are in God's hands." And he was gone with the late afternoon breeze. In the 20th century, the Holy Spirit swept in three Popes from the lagoon city. The most recent, in fact, was the last Italian: Pope:John Paul I.

The former Venice Patriarch Albino Luciani is remembered fondly, though with sorrow, for a papacy that lasted just 33 days before his sudden death.The man who would become John Paul I was little known outside of Venetian and Italian circles before he began to emerge in the days before the first 1978 conclave. If the Cardinals want an Italian, but are divided over Tettamanzi and Scola, they may start to look at alternatives from the bel paese. Names dropped include Cardinal Bertone of Genoa, Cardinal Antonelli of Florence and Cardinal Ruini, the Vicar of Rome. But one of the darkest dark horses — Severino Poletto, 72, of Turin — was touted to me two months ago by a well-placed Vatican insider, who noted Poletto's simple pastoral approach, his working class roots, and the strong local character that is identified with his northwestern region of Piedmont. I have dropped his name to my other sources, and most simply shrug. Today I could see why. He was ambling alone toward a gate guarded by a pair of Swiss Guards. He too was without the Cardinal colors, wearing a short black overcoat over his black suit and clerical collar, with a peaked black woolen cap: looking more like the stooped village pastor in Bernanos' 'Diary of A Country Priest' than a man set to help choose the next pope. My colleague Jordan Bonfante approached him, and asked how he felt this impending conclave compares with the last two. "In 1978," he said, "I was just a parish priest." In other words, far from the intrigue and politicking of Rome. Only in 1980 was he made a bishop, and it took another 21 years to become Cardinal. "And how are you feeling," Jordan asked, "about this Conclave?" At that point Poletto gave a dismissive wave of his hand and returned to his anonymity. At least for now.



Tuesday, April 12, 9pm, Vatican City
What's a reporter to do when the anointed sources are on maximum lock-down? Keep on knockin'. And, at the same time, hustle for other ways to divine what those 115 men in red who will choose the next Pope are thinking and saying and doing behind their shuttered windows. We talk to aides; we talk to bishops; we talk to people who talk to Cardinals. Beyond the Cardinals' self-imposed press blackout during this week leading up to the conclave, we got a piece of bad news earlier today when a dinner arranged for TIME this evening with a source close to a key Italian "kingmaker" cardinal was canceled after he got cold feet. A prominent European cardinal I know has avoided direct contact with me since the Pope's death. Hopefully, those sources will warm up as the week progresses. The Americans may be the hardest to crack. TIME's Midwest bureau chief Marguerite Michaels, who knows how to squeeze information out of tight-lipped Chicago cops and UN diplomats, is politely hounding the U.S. Cardinals. But one well-connected insider said the press ban is weighing heavy on the group of 11 American Cardinals. They are "Boy Scouts," this source said. "In the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, an American will stop at a red light. An Italian thinks, 'What a nice suggestion,' and drives on. Our guys aren't talking."

But whispers already appear to be leaking out to some of the long-time "Vaticanista" correspondents of the major Italian dailies. One early controversy that the Cardinals have been confronting in their daily meetings called General Congregations [which include the Cardinals over 80 who will not enter the Conclave] is how to respond to the popular calls at Pope John Paul II's funeral for a virtually instantaneous beatification that would put him on the fast-track for sainthood. According to Corriere della Sera, a petition circulating amongst Cardinals to hand to the next Pope endorses that call. Apparently not all the Cardinals have signed the petition, and if one of them is elected Pope, he can duly ignore any suggestion that the Cardinals put forth. It's a reminder, of course, that this is not an election for a four-year term of a leader who will have to contend with political pressures from his peers or governmental balance of powers. It is an election of an absolute monarch for a lifetime term. Big stakes indeed—even for Boy Scouts.

One Italian Cardinal worth watching is Carlo Maria Martini, the 78-year-old former Archbishop of Milan, who spends much of his time studying ancient texts in Jerusalem. Martini, a brilliant Jesuit scholar and inarguably holy figure, was once the great white-haired hope of the progressives for a successor to John Paul. Few believe he is still 'papabile'. When I caught up with him after the Pope's funeral, he smiled and shook my hand, but stayed mum. He has, however, been talking during the Cardinals' daily meetings, and Corriere reported today that he was listened to "intently" by his brother Cardinals. An American source of mine doesn't doubt that Martini is a respected voice. "They'll listen to what he has to say, especially among the Italians. But I doubt that they will take it into much consideration. He's no longer a real factor." Perhaps just as telling for how the race is shaping up were conversations that TIME reporter Jordan Bonfante had today with a pair of Jesuits. Both share much with their fellow Jesuit Martini, but conceded that they could live with someone like traditionalist bulwark Joseph Ratzinger as Pope. It's yet another sign that the dream scenario for some progressives in the Church that somehow a Pope will emerge from this Conclave with plans to undo John Paul's doctrinal dictates is doomed to die on the vine. But it's still early in the week, and TIME's team of reporters here will do its best—as always—to confirm that with our sources.


PETER DEJONG / AP
Cardinal Bernard Law celebrates a mourning Mass for the late Pope John Paul II in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican Monday

Monday, April 11, 9pm, Vatican City
The Return of Cardinal Law
You could have termed it "kickin' him upstairs" when former Church heavyweight Bernard Cardinal Law was handed an honorific, but influence-free posting last year after his 2002 resignation from the Boston Archdiocese. Law, who became a symbol of inaction by American bishops in response to repeated cases of priests sexually abusing minors, is now the archpriest at St. Mary Major, one of the four main Basilicas in Rome. It is a largely ceremonial role, far from the influence he once wielded as the single most powerful American Cardinal. Still, unlike corporate culture, in the Catholic Church, ceremony itself can carry real weight. And in his new role, Law was picked to lead this evening's official Mass in St. Peter's Basilica in honor of Pope John Paul II, part of the nine-day mourning period called Novemdiales.

Marguerite Michaels, TIME's Midwest bureau chief who has tracked the pedophile scandal from its early days, has joined our team in Rome to cover the selection of the new pope. She caught up to Barbara Blaine, president of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, SNAP, who was protesting alone Monday afternoon just beyond the border of St. Peter's (protests could not be held on Vatican territory). Blaine showed a small swarm of reporters a half dozen laminated photos of children who were abused by Roman Catholic priests—herself included. SNAP sent a letter to all the American Cardinals to try to keep Law out of a prominent role. "We need the Cardinals to find the courage to break the code of silence in the church's hierarchy, speak out on behalf of children raped by the clergy," Blaine said. "Cardinal Law's saying of this Mass is like rubbing salt into open wounds. He bears ultimate responsibility for the sex abuse scandal."

The ceremony—jam-packed with mostly Italian and Polish mourners, many of whom know little of Law's recent history—went off without any of the disruptions that had been rumored amongst our press colleagues. In fact, Law's command of the altar and agility in Italian and Latin were a reminder that had he not been disgraced back at home, he may have been a potential "kingmaker" in influencing who would be the next pope. [American Cardinals are not considered realistic candidates because the U.S. is too powerful geopolitically.] Even if his American colleagues may not denounce him publicly, like Blaine would like, they will certainly not be following his guidance in the closed-door campaign to elect a new pontiff. Privately, many Cardinals will say that they have lost much credibility in their own dioceses because Law stayed on in Boston long after he should have resigned.

One of Law's most ardent defenders was Mexico City's Norberto Cardinal Rivera Carrera, who notoriously blamed the entire sex abuse scandal on the U.S. media. Rivera was one of just a handful of fellow Cardinals in attendance today at St. Peter's. He is also on most Vatican watchers' short-lists of "papabili" or potential popes. But it remains to be seen whether Rivera could muster key support from the 11-strong bloc of U.S. Cardinals after his remarks about the scandal. Most of the American Cardinals know very well that the sex abuse crisis was fortunately exposed—not caused!—by the American media (most notably the Pulitzer Prize winning team at the Boston Globe). Still, Rivera could always hope for at least one American vote.


Sunday, April 10, 9pm, Vatican City
Even reporters need a day of rest. But read my latest article in TIME magazine: A Brisk Walk With a Cardinal

ANJA NIEDRINGHAUS / AP
Nuns and residents are just about all who are left in the rainy St. Peter's Square on Saturday

Saturday, April 9, 9pm, Vatican City
The Mourning After
A chilly rain is falling in Rome the day after John Paul II was buried in the crypt below St. Peter�s Basilica. The world leaders have come and gone. Most of the masses of pilgrims are going home too, boarding trains and buses: south to the Calabrian countryside, north to Milan, farther north and east to Krakow and Wadowice, Poland where Karol Jozef Wojtyla was born nearly 85 years ago. The Eternal City, of course, carries on. But these next two or three days—before the speculation over succession begins to multiply—the forever take-it-as-it-comes Romans may need some time to digest the event that just passed through town, and imagine the ancient city without its most imposing foreign presence. After a week straight of sunshine, that�s what today�s rain seems to be saying.

For those of us who have been covering this story every waking moment for the past 10 days, Saturday is a moment to reflect and recharge. On a professional level, we have just taken part in an unprecedented media event: the final descent of John Paul�s health, the �death watch�, the celebration of his life, the descending crowds of pilgrims and world leaders, a breathtaking funeral, the first murmurings of the race for succession. Most of the top anchors from the TV networks have packed up and gone home. Some will come back for the conclave in eight days. The secret election is sure to make dramatic television: Twice a day, the news networks will again zoom in on St. Peter�s reminding us how much is at stake. The cameraman this time will shift just off to the right of the basilica, where a rudimentary chimney will rise up over the Sistine Chapel�Gentleman, has the jury reached a verdict?

Until the Cardinals are locked away in the conclave, we permanent Rome-based reporters will continue scouring the town in search of clues of which Cardinals are emerging as front runners. The only potential shift registered so far is that Cardinals may be forced to take into account the unprecedented reaction this past week to John Paul II's death, with pilgrims effectively demanding that the successor have at least some of the same kind of personal appeal as Wojtyla. "It diminishes the idea of a transitional Pope," a well-placed Vatican official told me, noting that such candidates as Camillo Ruini and Giovanni Batista Re, who are short on charisma, may be fading from contention. Meanwhile it remains to be seen just how much good (new) information is going to seep out before April 18th.

We will of course be talking to our sources who are willing to meet in private. But TIME reporters also scoped out three different Rome restaurants on Friday where Cardinals often dine. According to all three owners, there hasn�t been a red hat in the house since the Pope�s death. Ristorante Armando, which is a favorite of several powerful Roman Curia Cardinals, has had to settle for priests and bishops this past week. �We haven�t seen any of them,� said owner Armando Desimone, who remembers much more red-hat traffic back in 1978. �And I don�t� think they�ll come. It�s too delicate.� The search continues—though we, too, may have to settle for priests and bishops.


OLIVIER HOSLET / EPA
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger uses incense to bless the Pope's coffin

Friday, April 8, 9pm, Vatican City
Seeking Clues in a Funeral Oration
The funeral required some nimble footwork from journalists. Many of us wanted to take in the spectacle of millions turning out to bid the Pope farewell, but we also wanted to get a close look at the homily delivered by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger — which would have been hard to do with the echoing sound system out in St. Peter's Square. As the Dean of the College of Cardinals, Ratzinger is widely expected to play a pivotal role in the coming conclave to choose a successor to John Paul II, and is even tipped by some Vatican officials as a potential pontiff himself. So,we were keen to glean hints from his homily about his thinking on the challenges facing the Church. On Good Friday, for example, Ratzinger surprised many with a sharp denunciation of what he called the �filth� in the Church, which he characterized as a boat shipping water from every side. Those comments had been taken as a strong indicator of Ratzinger's desire to tackle what he saw as spiritual corruption and clerical arrogance.

I watched Ratzinger's homily close-up on TV in a room rented by TIME at a hotel just outside the Vatican Walls. It was neither a theological tour de force nor a coded message on the future of the Church. Instead, Ratzinger delivered a simple testament to the life and papacy of John Paul II. Afterwards, we had to hustle through a number of security checkpoints to reach the colonnade alongside St. Peter's Basilica, where we watched as a dozen major duomos carried the simple wooden coffin up the steps of the Basilica. And as they reached the top step, with hundreds of world leaders, senior clerics and millions of faithful looking on, the giant bells of St. Peter's began to toll their final farewell to the Pope.

Among those looking on was President Bush, the first American president to attend a papal funeral. I had been in the Vatican press pool during President Bush's last visit to the Pope in June, 2004 — he had listened intently as the Pope struggled to read a statement praising President Bush's stance on �life� issues but restating the Vatican's opposition to the war in Iraq. John Paul II had a major impact on world affairs in the first two decades of his papacy, but its final chapter found him making a passionate, but ultimately futile call for peace. And that's a reminder that his successor will have to find his own voice in a world dominated by the American superpower.

Vatican City, April 7, 9pm
Who are the Front Runners?
Even though the conclave to choose a new pontiff is still 10 days away, much of the media here is hard at work searching for signs of what kind of man the cardinals may be looking for. I've been sounding out my Vatican sources on how the race to replace John Paul II may shape up, and that has meant meeting in trattorias and cafes further and further away from St. Peter's Square — some Vatican sources don't like talking when other journalists or clerics might walk by. What I learned was that the discussion of a new pope has not really progressed since John Paul II died, and it will likely begin in earnest only after his burial. And my sources tell me that the cardinals are considering imposing a total media blackout even before the conclave begins to prevent speculation on the outcome of their deliberations.

LEFTERIS PITARAKIS / AP
Thousands wait to say their last farewells to Pope John Paul II

One of my sources did relate, though, that there's a sense among many of the cardinals that they're looking to see if an Italian consensus candidate exists. If one does not emerge in the early ballots, they'll begin to look elsewhere. On the basis of my conversations, I'd say the top three contenders remain Cardinal Dionigi Tettamanzi, the Arcbishop of Milan; Cardinal Claudio Hummes, the Archbishop of Sao Paulo in Brazil; and Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, the head of the Vatican's Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, who has been John Paul II's chief theological enforcer. Tettamanzi would probably be the leading Italian contender; Hummes would represent a turn to the developing world where the Church continues to grow; and Ratzinger would represent a concern to appoint a pontiff capable of whipping the Church's vast bureaucracy into shape.

As for how the world will learn of their decision, the story of how the news of the Pope's death broke on the wires may be instructive. Everyone was obviously in a race to be first to break the news, which was simultaneously released to dozens of news outlets via an email from Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls. As AP's veteran Vatican correspondent Victor Simpson put it, �In a case like this you just don't want to get beat.� But the bespectacled New Yorker, who has covered John Paul II's papacy from Day 1 was, in fact, pipped at the post by the Italian wire service ANSA, whose Vatican bureau chief Gianluca Vannucchi got Navarro's email on his Blackberry and ran into the press center yelling "Franco! Franco! Franco!" His colleague, Franco Pisano, was already hitting the letter T for "transmetti" (send) on his keyboard, followed by S for "si." That put the Italians a couple of seconds ahead of AP, whose Bill Kole hit "send" on a newsflash prewritten by Simpson — "Vatican says Pope has died" — after being phoned by colleague Nicole Winfield, whose Blackberry had vibrated with the news. Still, AP and ANSA were ahead of the pack. When a new pope is chosen, they'll all be waiting, fingers poised over the "send" button, for a puff of white smoke to appear over the Sistine Chapel. The name will be announced shortly after to the piazza — and maybe simultaneously via another mass email from Navarro.



Vatican City, April 6, 9pm
Beyond the elaborate ceremonies and endless stream of affection, the end of a pontificate also brings less poignant moments. One example yesterday involved a long time employee of the Vatican's media operations who has never been very popular with the press corps. Yesterday, during a particularly busy moment in the Sala Stampa (Press Room), this Vatican official booted a senior Italian correspondents from the lobby area for no apparent reason. "You and I have an outstanding debt from the beginning of this pontificate," the reporter shouted as he was being led out the door by the arm. "And those debts are coming due."

The press office is, in fact, likely to see a significant turnover once the new pope is chosen, as are the major dicasteries responsible for Church governance. With the death of a pope, all top Vatican officials automatically lose their jobs, except the Camerlengo who is responsible for organizing the interregnum activities such as the funeral and conclave, as well as the head of the Apostolic Penitentiary (who is responsible for confessions), currently an American James Cardinal Stafford, and the Vicar of Rome, Camillo Cardinal Ruini (who oversees the diocese of Rome).

For obvious reasons, though, the press office run by longtime Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls will continue to operate through the transition period. Despite continuing complaints that he is not as forthcoming as some would like, Navarro-Valls has gotten good grades for his handling of the pontiff's last months. After he had rushed to Gemelli hospital on Feb. 1, there was an initial attempt to sweeten the picture of John Paul's health: the Vatican feared a groundswell from the faithful questioning the authority of an enfeebled (and potentially incapacitated) pontiff. But the pontiff's final 72 hours were a model of transparency from the press office, as Navarro confirmed his deteriorating condition in regular briefings.

For years, news organizations had speculated over how the news of the Pope's death would get out to the world. Would it be leaked ahead of time? Would there be a false scoop that would set off flurries of speculation? Would the Vatican keep the news secret for hours or days until it could straighten out the situation inside the Curia? The Rome bureau chiefs of news wire agencies and television stations lost sleep for fear of missing the historic news flash. Instead, Navarro's simultaneous email to the major news agencies at the same time that Archbishop Leonardo Sandri announced the news to the faithful in St. Peter's Square, worked seamlessly. And so John Paul's final act — dying in public — was as grandiose and universal as his life itself.

The story today continues to be the crowds pouring slowly through St. Peter's Square to catch a glimpse of the Pope lying in state. The Vatican estimates there are 600,000 people a day filing past the body — seven people every second. And Italian media estimates are closer to 1 million. Even then, some are left disappointed: Carmella Paolillo had taken an overnight train from her small town near the southern city of Salerno to pay her respects. But by day's end, after waiting nearly 10 hours, she had to give up, with the Basilica finally in sight. "I'm so sorry. And it's not because I'm tired, but I've got to catch my train. I have nowhere to stay tonight." The 53-year-old middle school teacher had seen the Pope twice while he was alive, once from his apartment overlooking St. Peter's square and once, in the early '90s, when he visited her hometown of Nocera Inferiore. As for seeing him before he is buried, Paolillo would have to settle for television. "I just wanted to see him. I don't know why I came all this way, but it wasn't for curiosity."

The conclave to choose a new pontiff has been scheduled to begin Monday, April 18. There will be one ballot that afternoon, which traditionally is a chance for Cardinals to vote for a sentimental choice as a special honor. The real race begins Tuesday morning, with the first two ballots. More to come in this diary, of course, on what's at stake in the campaign for succession.

There are currently 3,500 accredited journalists covering the event, and we are all trying to figure out when interest in this story may begin to wane. Most of the major network anchors plan to leave after the funeral on Friday. But many will be back in time for the conclave. During the conclave, there will still be plenty to chatter about: speculating on the choice of successor, explaining the process, remarking on the secrecy. But TV — which until now has been able to show the dramatic live images of the crowds, of St. Peter's, of the Pope's body lying in state — may have days to fill with recorded images supplied by the Holy See showing the interiors of the various chambers where the cardinals will meet, eat and sleep, and from which the outside world will be tightly excluded.



April 5, 2005, 9pm
Watching the Pope Lying In State

The traditional pageantry, mystery and power of Vatican rituals has awed the faithful for centuries. But the convergence of John Paul II's massive popularity with around-the-clock news coverage has created a spectacle that will go down with the ages. Today alone some 600,000 people have filed slowly, step by step, waiting as long as 14 hours, for just a brief glance at the body of the pontiff lying in state in St. Peter's Basilica. Meanwhile, new details are emerging about the elaborate plans for the Pope's funeral and burial on Friday, and even a word or two about the Conclave that will choose a successor. For those of us assigned to cover this momentous and mind-boggling event, what better time to start keeping a reporter's log!

I spent an hour yesterday lining up with scores of journalists, clerics and diplomats to view the pontiff's body lying in state at the Clementine Chapel, before it was moved across to St. Peter's Basilica — John Paul II will have his final resting place in the crypt below. As the line moved very slowly up the staircase to the third floor, and then as we moved through the Chapel, the atmosphere was very somber. The rosary was being recited as we moved slowly past the pontiff's body, and I was struck by the presence of Archbishop Stanislaw Dziwisz, the pope's private secretary and the closest thing he had to family, who stood nearby, arms crossed, maintaining an intense vigil. I also saw the prefect of the papal household, Archbishop James Harvey originally of Milwaukee, sitting in a pew near the body.

I couldn't help thinking that the look on the pontiff's face, lying in state, suggested that his final hours might not have been quite as serene as we've been told. He looked as if the suffering was weighing on him until his very last moment.

Today, Tuesday, we were summoned to a press conference at 12:30 p.m. with Archbishop Piero Marini, the papal master of ceremonies, and Joaquin Navarro-Valls, Pope John Paul II's longtime spokesman. Getting there, through the throngs of people on the streets of Vatican City was a major challenge. Watching on TV, you will have seen the hundreds of thousands jamming onto the Via Della Conciliazione, the wide boulevard leading up to St. Peter's Basilica. But what you don't see on TV is that the parallel side streets are also packed, wall to wall. The crowd here is of a scale unlike anything I've ever seen. Rubbing shoulders with the tens of thousands of the faithful are cardinals, bishops and their staff — I ran into Cardinal Mahoney of Los Angeles en route to the press conference. He was heading to lunch with a couple of aides, and like me trying not to get knocked around by the passing pilgrims. I only had time enough to give my business card to his spokesman. (Virtually all of the U.S. cardinals have someone who handles press. And frankly we in the Roman press, where Cardinals tend to be less accessible, are happy to be handled!)

The crowds hardly thin out, even into the night. The Basilica is closed for cleaning from 3 am to 5 am, but most of the people outside simply wait patiently for it to reopen. And they appear to be deeply moved by the experience of being part of this history unfolding before them. They chant the rosary, and sometimes just the name "Giovanni Paolo" in a rhythmic chorus, as they wait for hours to get a few seconds glance at the pontiff as they pass by his body.

At the press conference, we learned more about the funeral arrangements and the burial. There had been some speculation before yesterday's announcement that he is to be interred in the crypt, that his body would be brought back to Poland. But that proved unfounded. The rumor was another reminder that this man seemed to have two sides. He was a devoted patriot of his native Poland, but at the same time a supremely Roman pontiff, who saw himself as the rightful successor of Peter. He was a firm believer in tradition, but infinitely curious about other cultures. Ultimately, John Paul II opted for continuity in his choice of burial, and his body will be placed in the same part of the crypt where the body of Pope John XXIII had lain before it was moved into the basilica following his beatification. Given his popularity, it's quite likely that John Paul II will eventually also be beatified, and moved into the basilica.

The funeral will take place Friday at 10 am, local time. On Thursday night, they'll clear St. Peter's Square to prepare it for the funeral, and also ready the pontiff's body for burial. Archbishop Dziwisz will place a white silk veil over the pope's face, and his body will be placed in a simple cedar coffin, which will be put into a zinc coffin and then into an oak coffin, which will then be covered in marble and placed in the flat tomb inside the crypt. Inside the cedar coffin will be a small bag containing silver and bronze medallions depicting various important events in his papacy. Inside the coffin there will also be a lead tube bearing a written account of John Paul's life and papacy. The funeral service will be lead by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Vatican's Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith who is given that responsibility as the dean of the college of cardinals.

Naturally, there was intense curiosity among the journalists over the details of the conclave at which some 117 cardinals — at least those of them healthy enough to make the trip to Rome — will choose a successor to Pope John Paul II. That event will begin some fifteen to twenty days after the pontiff's death, meaning one week from next Sunday at the earliest. But it is held in the deepest of secrecy, with the cardinals sequestered far more tightly than any jury in a celebrity trial in the U.S. A special hotel has been built inside the Vatican to house them during the conclave, and they'll have no access to the outside world — nor will the outside world have any access to them. They'll be allowed to take walks, but only in designated confined spaces within the Vatican. If, during the conclave itself, you hear of any "leaked" reports from inside, you can safely ignore them. We'll be lucky if we can find out what they're eating. (There's an old joke in Rome that the duration of the conclave depends on the quality of the food is: If they're being well-fed, it can last longer; if the cardinals are pining for their favorite trattoria, they may resolve their business earlier.) Yesterday, after viewing John Paul's body in the Clementine Chapel, I strolled out the long way from the Vatican walls to have another, closer look at the Santa Marta hotel where the Cardinals will be lodging. The sliding glass doors opened for me, but I only had time enough to glance at the entrance and lobby area before a stern-faced women, who had been chatting with two nuns, curtly told me I had to leave at once.

At the press conference, Marini and Navarro-Valls simply chuckled at the efforts of all the veteran Vaticanisti journalists trying to pry details about the conclave out of them. What they did confirm was that they will follow the tradition of releasing a puff of white smoke above the Sistine Chapel once they've made their choice. But the last time this happened, when JohnPaul II was chosen, there was confusion because the smoke was hazy and it was difficult to tell whether it was white or black. Archbishop Marini confirmed that the smoke will be used again, but added, "We'll try to make sure it looks better than last time." And to avoid any confusion, bells will be rung at the same time to signal the world that a new pope has been chosen.