PREFACE

Politics, it is often said, is the art of compromise. Because elections involve the clash of different interests, victory usually belongs to the candidate who can offer something to everyone, negotiating between competing visions and desires. The winning candidate is generally the one who seems most likely to appeal to all constituencies, or, at a minimum, to be the least disappointing to the majority. Political rhetoric is crafted with this in mind, offering a mixture of platitudes and banalities whose main aim seems to be to offend the fewest listeners possible.

Sometimes, however, the electorate is not in the mood to compromise. Sometimes, with an important historical crossroads looming in front of them, voters opt for a bold choice rather than a “least common denominator.”

Such was the humor of the College of Cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church in April 2005, when it gathered to elect a successor to Pope John Paul II. Faced with a slew of potential compromise candidates, the cardinals opted instead for a clear, resounding choice, entrusting the Keys of the Kingdom, which Catholics believe were promised by Christ to St. Peter, to seventy-eight-year-old Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, a man whose resolute views on the challenges facing the Church and the broader culture could not be more unambiguous.

Pope Benedict XVI is a man of epic ambition who hopes to do nothing less than challenge four centuries of intellectual development in the West toward subjectivity and relativism, producing what European intellectuals who share his view call a climate of “weak thought.” Like St. Benedict fifteen centuries before, from whom the new pope took his name, Benedict XVI aims to inspire alternative models of Christian existence for a culture that, he believes, is too often in denial about the real meaning and purpose of human existence. Benedict is convinced, in a way that has to be nuanced in order to be understood, that there is a historical parallel between the collapse of the Roman Empire and the slide into the Dark Ages, and the era in which we live. Benedict XVI is too sophisticated to launch a crude jihad against secularism, but his pontificate will, nevertheless, be a tough, demanding one, and those who elected him certainly knew that. He will challenge the world to recover confidence in the power of the human intellect to find truth, and the moral and spiritual capacity of men and women to order their lives in the light of that truth. He will do so joyfully, in a spirit of service rather than power, but he will be uncompromising and crystal clear.

There are few jobs on earth more complex, and more consequential, than serving as the Supreme Pontiff of the 1.1 billion-strong Roman Catholic Church. The election of a pope is not just a colorful ritual cloaked in centuries-old mystery and romance, but the naming of an important global leader whose policies touch the lives not just of Catholics, but people of all faiths and of none. Try as one might, a pope cannot be ignored. Religion stirs the deepest passions of the human soul, so that a pope has the capacity to shape not just people’s voting patterns or ideological self-interest, but their dreams and the best versions of themselves. The pope is a moral compass, a voice of conscience, and a cartographer of the soul, and because of all this, the pope is inevitably a major political force. A handful of other religious figures play a similar role, but none so prominently or so influentially as the head of the Roman Catholic Church. To put the point bluntly, a pope matters.

For Catholics, the pope is believed to be the Vicar of Christ on earth, the successor of St. Peter as the chief shepherd of the Christian community. Before all else, therefore, he is supposed to be a man of exemplary holiness, someone who can radiate a sense of God’s love and the power of redemption, someone who can inspire and challenge and console, someone who can do all this while also governing and correcting members of the flock when they stray. It is, in many ways, an impossible and thankless job, imposing a bewildering cluster of demands—the mastering of any one of which would be a life’s work.

All this went into the reflections of the members of the College of Cardinals, 115 of them under eighty years of age and healthy enough to participate, who arrived in Rome in April 2005 to face the daunting task of electing a new pope. Moreover, they were not just electing any new pontiff, but the successor to John Paul II, a titan who cut across his times in a way few popes of any era ever have. To invoke a tired cliché, John Paul II would be a very hard act to follow, and the cardinals knew they had to consider this choice carefully. Most cardinals who were already in their late sixties and seventies were also aware that they would likely have only one opportunity in their lifetime to cast a ballot for a pope, and so the responsibility wore even more heavily.

Catholics believe that the selection of the pope unfolds under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, so that it is not, in the first place, a political exercise but a process of spiritual discernment rooted in prayer. This idea was summed up on the eve of the conclave by the smiling, cheerful Cardinal Ennio Antonelli of Florence, considered by some to be a candidate himself, who said that God already knew who the new pope was, so it was simply up to the cardinals to figure out what God had already decided. Many longtime Vatican-watchers regarded the comment as pious sermonizing, but listening to cardinals after the fact, many seemed to have really experienced the process this way. At least some cardinals perceived a clash between their prayer and their politics; in their heart of hearts, many saw Joseph Ratzinger as the right man for the job, but worried that in some sectors of opinion, especially in western Europe and the United States, he might bring too much “baggage” because of twenty-four difficult, controversial years as the Church’s top doctrinal watchdog. In the end, most voted their conscience rather than their fear, trying to be faithful to their vow, uttered aloud below Michelangelo’s intimidating fresco of the Last Judgment during each round of balloting: “I call as my witness Christ the Lord, who will be my judge, that my vote is given to the one who before God I think should be elected.”

In doing so, many of the cardinals no doubt heard the words of John Paul’s last poem, “Roman Tryptych,” echoing in their memories. Meditating on the conclave that would elect his successor, the late Pope had written: “It is necessary that during the conclave, Michelangelo teach them . . . Michelangelo’s vision must teach them.” The idea was that the cardinals should be thinking not about political or careerist consequences when they cast their ballots, but the moment of judgment in the next life when they will have to account for their choice before God.

Whether God—or history—will eventually judge their choice to have been the correct one remains to be seen. At this stage the pontificate of Benedict XVI is very much an open book, the chapters of which are waiting to be written. Given the character of the man, however, the one thing we can say with certainty about the 265th papacy of the Roman Catholic Church is that it will not be dull. Dramatic, fascinating days lie ahead.

In electing Joseph Ratzinger, the cardinals managed to shatter several bits of conventional wisdom about conclaves: that he who goes in a pope, comes out a cardinal (now false in three of the last six papal elections); that someone too closely identified with the policies of the previous pope is usually not chosen; that the 76 percent of cardinals who come from dioceses around the world would not vote for a member of the Roman Curia; that the cardinals would not want to elect someone from Europe, where the faith is flagging; that seventy-eight years of age is too old to begin so awesome a ministry; that Ratzinger had been in power too long, made too many enemies as well as friends, to put together a two-thirds majority. All these handicapping tips turned out, at least this time around, to be hogwash. In addition, the widely held belief that the Italians would gang up to ensure that the papacy came back home also proved unfounded. In fact, several non-Italian cardinals said that their Italian colleagues by and large approached the election “objectively,” concentrating on the person rather than the passport he happened to hold. For the most part, conventional political logic gave way to a genuine sense that Ratzinger was the most qualified and best prepared candidate, regardless of age, nationality, or career path.

On the other hand, it is also traditional Catholic theology that grace builds on nature, it doesn’t cancel it out, so that the belief that God is involved in the selection of a pope does not make it any less a political process. As one cardinal put it to me afterward, “I was never whapped on the head by the Holy Spirit. I had to make the best choice I could based on the information available.” Thus the election of Joseph Ratzinger was also a political drama whose outcome was uncertain until the curtain came up, and one that could have gone another way if a few variables had fallen into place differently. As obvious as the selection of a given pope may seem after the fact, it never feels that way going in. History, as they say, can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards.

In a sense, Pope John Paul had been dying for years by the time his death actually came, and one might expect that therefore the conclave of 2005 was a well-prepared, well-rehearsed event. In fact, however, most cardinals said the opposite was the case. Because John Paul had survived so many crises over the course of almost twenty-seven years, many had given up thinking about the succession, since the politics and personalities could shift many times before the moment actually arrived. (Indeed, had John Paul lived just three more months, he was expected to create a slew of new cardinals, once again recasting the drama.) Even in the final weeks of the Pope’s life, when the end seemed painfully near, most cardinals were thinking in terms of issues and profiles of leadership, not actual candidates. When they gathered in Rome in early April, therefore, it was still very much anyone’s game.

Perhaps the best expression of this idea belongs to none other than the new pope himself, Benedict XVI, who, as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, was asked on Bavarian television in 1997 if the Holy Spirit is responsible for who gets elected pope. This was his response:

I would not say so, in the sense that the Holy Spirit picks out the Pope. . . . I would say that the Spirit does not exactly take control of the a fair, but rather like a good educator, as it were, leaves us much space, much freedom, without entirely abandoning us. Thus the Spirit’s role should be understood in a much more elastic sense, not that he dictates the candidate for whom one must vote. Probably the only assurance he o fers is that the thing cannot be totally ruined.

Then the clincher:

There are too many contrary instances of popes the Holy Spirit would obviously not have picked.

In attempting to piece together the story of the conclave, I have been primarily guided by after-the-fact conversations with eight cardinals, representing five nationalities (spanning three continents). Because the cardinals had taken vows of secrecy, these conversations were of necessity “on background,” meaning they are not quoted here by name. None of the cardinals, in my view, came even close to violating his oath of secrecy in our conversations. No one revealed round-by-round voting totals, for example. They were, however, willing to offer me a window into the preconclave politics—the meetings over dinner at national colleges, the late-hour chats, the free-flowing conversations at the Roman residences of friends within the College of Cardinals. They were also willing in a general sense to talk about the drama within the conclave itself, and how in relatively short order a disparate group of 115 men, each with his own strong vision for the future of the Church, was able to come to consensus on a single candidate to lead them. To these cardinals, who understand that legitimate public curiosity will either be fed with accurate information or with gossip and innuendo, go my eternal thanks.

My rule in this process was that I trusted nothing that came from a secondary source. Until I had a point confirmed by at least two cardinals, I treated it as unreliable. There are all sorts of widely circulated rumors surrounding events inside the conclave that do not appear in this book, and with the passage of time it may even emerge that some are true. I want the reader to know, however, that whatever is in this book has undergone the most thorough process of verification possible.

Joseph Ratzinger’s election as Pope Benedict XVI, the 265th pope in the official Vatican listing (though that counts Pope Benedict IX three times, who had three separate pontificates in the eleventh century), is of importance not just for Church historians and idly curious onlookers. The reasons he was elected, and the policies he is likely to pursue, will have decisive global consequences. Moreover, it would be foolish to interpret the election of this seventy-eight-year-old German as a vote for a do-nothing, “transitional” pontificate. To put the matter bluntly, there isn’t a transitional bone in Joseph Ratzinger’s body. Nor is this merely a vote for continuity with John Paul II, as if the College of Cardinals has simply reelected the previous pope. Though Benedict XVI will certainly continue the main lines of John Paul’s papacy, since he was intimately involved in constructing the intellectual agenda of that pontificate, he will also bring his own style and sense of priorities to the job. He is an original thinker, and one can expect his papacy to be an original one.

At the outset, one should not shy away from adding the necessary adjunct to the above: Benedict’s papacy is also likely to be contentious, especially for those Catholics of a more liberal bent, as well as secular centers of opinion that would prefer a pope whose opinions hew more closely to the editorial pages of the New York Times than to the Catechism of the Catholic Church. While Pope Benedict XVI will prove to be a more gracious figure than his previous public image suggests, there is no ducking the point that his will be a strong teaching papacy, and people may not always like what they hear—on issues ranging from human sexuality to religious pluralism to the exercise of ecclesiastical authority. There will be much to debate, much about which faithful Catholics, as well as men and women of all creeds, will disagree. The cardinals knew this as well, which makes the logic for their selection of Benedict XVI especially worthy of study.

This book tells the story of Pope John Paul II’s last days, the behind-the-scenes dynamics within the College of Cardinals that led to the choice of Joseph Ratzinger as Pope Benedict XVI, and where the new pope is likely to lead the Catholic Church. Fortunately, this is not an exercise in speculation, because Ratzinger has perhaps the most extensive public track record of any member of the College of Cardinals, and is that rare Vatican official who has been a celebrity in his own time. He led the crackdown on liberation theology in Latin America in the 1980s, the strong defense of traditional positions on issues of sexual morality such as homosexuality, the insistence that respect for other religions not obscure the uniqueness of the salvation won by Christ, and the demand that Catholic theologians uphold magisterial teaching, thereby restricting the notion of “loyal opposition” or “dissent” as a legitimate theological option. It is hardly guesswork to expect that these views will continue to have force in his pontificate.

This record, however, is not the whole story about Joseph Ratzinger. Those who know him privately have long commented on the disjunction between his public reputation and his private persona. In intimate settings, Ratzinger has always come across as generous, humble, and gentle, never seeking to impress others with his razor-sharp mind, but always prepared for whatever discussion is at hand. He’s known for a sly sense of humor, an impish smile, and the capacity to put people at ease.

In a book-length interview in 2002 titled God and the World, Ratzinger says that “God has a great sense of humor.”

“Sometimes he gives you something like a nudge and says, ‘Don’t take yourself so seriously!’ ” Ratzinger said. “Humor is in fact an essential element in the mirth of creation. We can see how, in many matters in our lives, God wants to prod us into taking things a bit more lightly; to see the funny side of it; to get down off our pedestal and not to forget our sense of fun.”

This is not the Joseph Ratzinger that some people think they know.

The new pope is also regarded as a good listener. More than one bishop after an ad limina trip to Rome, the visit to the Pope and Vatican offices that all bishops are required to make every five years, has come away contrasting their experience in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith with other offices in the Roman Curia. Elsewhere, they say, it is not uncommon for the head of the office to walk into a room, read a prepared speech to the bishops, and then exit, as if they were a group of college undergraduates. With Ratzinger, on the other hand, bishops report that he asks about their concerns and seems to genuinely listen to what they have to say. These are promising traits for a pope who inherits a College of Bishops often frustrated precisely by the sensation of not being heard in Rome.

Moreover, to focus entirely on the public controversies during Ratzinger’s Vatican years risks obscuring the deeper concerns of the man that underlie those specific debates, as well as the more quiet activity of his office that never draws public attention. Fundamentally, Ratzinger has long been concerned that the Christian message, that God entered history in the person of Jesus Christ in order to mark out a path to salvation, one that does not vary with time or fashion, becomes jeopardized in a cultural environment that has largely abandoned the concept of objective truth. Collapse of confidence in truth, he believes, leads to disastrous consequences. He witnessed that in Nazi Germany, when mistaken ideas about human nature led to the disasters of the Second World War, including the horrors of the Holocaust. His concern for maintaining the truths of the faith is therefore not simply an authoritarian desire to police the limits of acceptable thought; it has much deeper roots.

The point is that one cannot automatically collapse Ratzinger’s tenure at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith into his new role as the Universal Pastor of the Catholic Church. The Pope, whatever one makes of his career as the Vatican’s enforcer, realizes that in the first place people are not convinced of the Christian message on the basis of doctrinal debates. They want to see that Christianity is a joyful thing, a source of life and hope, that it lights fires of love and selfsacrifice. In the 1985 interview with Vittorio Messori that became The Ratzinger Report, he acknowledged precisely this: “The only really effective apologia for Christianity comes down to two arguments,” he said, “namely, the saints the Church has produced and the art which has grown in her womb.”

In the early days after his election, Pope Benedict attempted to strike just these notes. In his programmatic talk on Wednesday morning, April 20, following Mass with the cardinals in the Sistine Chapel, he talked about dialogue, ecumenism, interreligious outreach, the need for the Church to witness to authentic social development, and his desire to transmit joy and hope to the world. The Pope called for collaboration between the bishops and the Pope, a reference to collegiality in the Church. He committed himself to the Second Vatican Council (1962–65), an important signal for those who believe he has tried to “roll back the clock” on the reforms associated with the council. Benedict XVI also said he would reach out in a special way to the young, much in the style of his predecessor, John Paul II. (The Vatican later confirmed that the new pope will travel to Cologne in August for World Youth Day.) On Monday, April 25, in an audience with representatives of other religions, the Pope said: “At the beginning of my pontificate I address to you, believers in religious traditions who represent all those who seek the truth with a sincere heart, a strong invitation to become together artisans of peace in a reciprocal commitment of comprehension, respect and love.”

All this suggests the pontificate of Benedict XVI may have surprises in store.

Because the new pope has been a highly public figure generating diverse reactions, the early response to his election was perhaps a bit overheated in some quarters. In progressive or liberal Catholic circles, the emotional reaction sometimes verged on despair. One well-known liberal commentator called the result a “disaster,” and others had even worse things to say, well before the new pope had even opened his mouth. One leading leftist paper in Italy captured this sense of where the Pope would go, publishing a front-page editorial cartoon that was a parody of a famous moment from the pontificate of Pope John XXIII. “Good Pope John” once stood at his Vatican window on a moonlit night and, speaking to a crowd in St. Peter’s Square, said, “Go home and kiss your children, and tell them that this kiss comes from the Pope.” The cartoon showed Pope Benedict at the window saying, instead, “Go home and spank your children, and tell them that this spanking comes from the Pope.” Another Italian paper dubbed the new pope il pastore Tedesco, “the German shepherd,” a play on his nationality as well as his reputation for being a ferocious guard dog of doctrinal orthodoxy.

On the Catholic right, there were still uglier voices to be heard. Within hours of Benedict’s election, for example, I received e-mails predicting that the newspaper for which I work, the National Catholic Reporter , would be eviscerated under his pontificate. Others began circulating enemies’ lists, with the names of well-known Catholic liberals who would be purged on Benedict’s watch. As we will see later in chapter five, one such prominent liberal did indeed fall shortly thereafter, though as a result of a process that had been under way long before Ratzinger became pope. Of course, it is entirely legitimate to discuss the positions one can take and still meaningfully refer to oneself as “Catholic,” and it seems this pontificate will occasion such conversations. But to make your first reaction to the joyful news that the Church has a pope one of vengeance can suggest a worrying lack of Christian spirit.

In this regard, I am cheered by responses such as that of Stephen Hand, who edits a small on-line service called “Traditional Catholic Reflections and Reports.” Hand would conventionally be described as a Catholic conservative, and a few years ago he wrote a blistering review, not entirely undeserved, of my 1999 biography entitled Cardinal Ratzinger: The Vatican’s Enforcer of the Faith. In the aftermath of Benedict’s election, Hand wrote to invite me to write an essay for his site, expressing his desire to make a new start: “Let’s begin anew,” he volunteered. “All any of us want is fair reporting, even if tensions in perspective exist. God knows we need to strive for true communion. The future can be very different.”

Unfortunately, the need to finish the manuscript of this book prevented me from writing the piece Hand requested. Yet I want to take this opportunity to applaud the spirit in which he extended the invitation, which it seems to me synthesizes the best of the Catholic instinct— alive to the possibility of conversion, redemption, and new beginnings. One hopes that the spirit spreads as this new pontificate begins to take shape.

I would be negligent if I did not take this chance to offer thanks to several people without whose support this book would not exist. First of all, my deep thanks go to the board of directors at the National Catholic Reporter, whose decision to invest resources in Vatican coverage five years ago made everything possible. Without the support and vision of the board, I would not have experienced any of what followed. A similar note of gratitude goes to the staff of the National Catholic Reporter, especially those who made up our conclave coverage team: Sr. Rita Larivee, the publisher; Tom Roberts, the editor; Sr. Joan Chittister, providing analysis and commentary; and Stacy Meichtry, whose reporting was spectacular. If some major paper or news agency does not quickly offer Meichtry a job, there is something seriously flawed about the judgment of the American press. Dennis Coday also provided important editorial and technical support.

I would also like to thank everyone at CNN, the network that extended me the privilege of being part of their coverage team for the death of John Paul II, his funeral, the conclave and election of Benedict XVI, and the new pope’s inaugural Mass. I was given the opportunity to work with some of the finest journalists, producers, and technical staff in television news, and the memories of that experience will last a lifetime. A special note of thanks to Gail Chalef, who set my schedule for a month and offered constant encouragement, and to Joy DiBenedetto, whose faith in me resulted in my contract. A word is in order here, too, about Delia Gallagher, my partner as a CNN Vatican analyst during this period. The experience would have been much more difficult, to say nothing of much less fun, without her good humor, support, and generosity. Jim Bitterman and Alessio Vinci, with whom I have been privileged to cover the Pope for years, were once again terrific colleagues. My thoughts also turn to Hada Messia, CNN’s Rome producer, who endured unimaginable stress to make the network’s coverage successful. She and I shared this experience from the beginning, more than five years ago. Her constant support, her friendship, and her trust will live in my memory.

Finally, I want to thank my wife, Shannon, though no words here can ever be equal to her sacrifice and support. Without her logistical backup, willingness to go anywhere and do anything to be of help, and her unflagging confidence in my capacities, this book would be unthinkable. Shannon is also by now one of the world’s most sophisticated amateur Vaticanistas, so news agencies looking to beef up their Vatican coverage might take note! She also provided extremely useful feedback on the manuscript of this book.

I am convinced that the Roman Catholic Church, and especially the Vatican, is the best beat in journalism. It combines ritual, mystery, and romance with the deepest concerns of human life and religious faith and the real-world political impact of a major global institution. There is no region of human concern that is alien to the Holy See, from land-mines and the Iraq war to genetic engineering to religious pluralism. I am deeply grateful to all who make it possible for me to watch the world through this particular window, and I hope something of my passion and fascination finds an echo in these pages.