The First Rule of the Conclave
After the passing of the Pope, it was time to elect a new one. Now, there’s a lot of speculation about how this is done, and a lot of history that goes along with this process. Most of us know about the Conclave, the black and white smoke along with the jubilant, “Habemus papam!” But, did you ever really wonder what was going on in there as they voted? It’s kind of a secret in there, or is it? I think we can make some guesses here so I thought, why not? I’m Italian (well, sort of) I should have this figured out. And, I’m all too happy to share my tongue-in-cheek rendition of what’s happening inside the Conclave with you today.
Say, “Cheese,” Padre
When thinking about the Pope, I wanted to share a religious image so I combed my archives looking for something church related. This image is from one of the trips I made out to the painted churches of Texas. These are (no joke) some beautiful sanctuaries and I was lucky enough to visit them to take pictures.
Ever walked into a place that made you feel like you’d just stepped into a time machine? You know, the kind of place where the air is thick with history, and the walls seem to whisper secrets from centuries past? Well, let me take you on a little journey through one such space. No, it’s not the Vatican. It’s not the Conclave. This is an historic painted church in Texas, one that’s so ornate it could make a peacock feel under-dressed.
The Conclave Glass is Stained
Picture this: you walk in, and your eyes are immediately assaulted, uh, I mean, treated, to a kaleidoscope of colors from the stained-glass windows. Each pane tells a story, and I can’t help but wonder if the artists who crafted them were just trying to outdo each other. “Oh, you think that’s impressive? Hold my paintbrush!” It’s like a mini Texas version of the Sistine Chapel without the Italian bickering.
And then there’s the architecture. The ceiling arches high above like a giant’s embrace, adorned with intricate designs that make you feel like you’re inside a giant cupcake. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time I thought, “I could totally live here,” I’d have enough to buy a lifetime supply of cupcakes. And you know how much I love cupcakes.
Katy Bar the Pretty Conclave Door with Vowels
Meanwhile, back in Italy, in order to elect a new Pope, the Cardinals gather in the Conclave and seal themselves into the Sistine Chapel until the Pope is named. After a new Pope is elected, he is given a new name (it’s a Latin thing. Everything has to have at least two names, each with a spattering of vowels, but all wonderful sounding when pronounced correctly which, sadly, you are ill equipped to do.)
As part of the Conclave process, the Cardinals stay in there and vote, vote, vote. It’s like voting in Chicago (the place where the new Pope is from. Coincidence? I think not!) Vote Early and Vote Often! After each vote, those who participate in the Conclave burn the ballots. If nobody receives enough votes, the smoke is black and the people waiting outside in the piazza (in Italy, there is ALWAYS a piazza involved) cheer (or don’t. Heck, they’re Italian, maybe they just drink and have a good time, because, well, isn’t that what they do anyway?) They keep voting like this until they have a Pope (or maybe until they run out of wax which, as far as I know, has never happened.)
The Conclave continues until a Pope is named.
The Assembly of Italians Without Food
In order the keep the Cardinals on lock down focused on their work, they allow themselves only water and no food (!) Picture a room full of Italians without food? You laugh, but it could happen! No wonder they didn’t take too long getting us a new Pope. It’s not that they were worried about eternity, lost souls, and the like, heck, they just didn’t want to miss dinner. (I hear the nuns make some divine meatballs, but I digress.)
You have to wonder too (but not for very long) why the Conclave included this rule about not eating. Then again, imagine for a second if they DID have food in there.
Cardinal John would complain about the pasta. It’s under cooked. Cardinal Joseph would hog the bread sticks. Cardinal Paul would want a bigger piece of fish. Somebody would make a bad hand gesture and the bickering would start.
“You eat too many carbs! You won’t fit into your red robe anymore!”
“Mind your own dish!” At this point, a dinner roll might just fly around the table as Cardinal Peter protected the butter from the war of the Cardinals. Thank God the Italians don’t eat pointy bread like the Frenchmen, or else one of the Cardinals might put an eye out in the ensuing “sword” battle.
“Take THAT you scoundrel!” I could almost hear the screams as the French bread poked out a retina. Thankfully, Italian bread is rounded at the ends, but this would still not be a pretty sight. I can almost picture Cardinal Peter getting lobbed in the head with a day old dinner roll all the while Cardinal Paul stuck his fingers in the tiramisu. It would be so downright ugly in there, the ghost of Michelangelo himself would rise up and grab what’s left of the fish.
Meanwhile, the Scene Outside the Conclave
Of course, the people in the piazza would be drunk and already starting to pass out in the nearby fountains. The newscasters would be babbling on about, “the unusual colors of the royal guard uniforms,” as they broke the seal on the door to get inside and find out what all of the shouting was about.
It would be like some kind of Italian opera, minus a world class tenor, no soprano, and a lot of red robes for costumes, combined with a scene from Animal House. Food Fight-eous Maximus!
Thank God there is no food allowed in the Conclave as they vote.
The Building of God, I mean Texas
As I wandered down the aisle of the slightly more humble church in Texas, I couldn’t help but notice the rows of wooden pews, polished to a shine that could rival a new car. They looked so inviting, yet I felt a twinge of guilt. “Am I allowed to sit here? Is this a sacred space or just a really fancy waiting room?” With no flying bread sticks in sight, I got to visit the rows of pews and sit myself down for a spell.
And let’s not forget the chandeliers. Oh, the chandeliers! They hung like glittering jewels, casting a warm glow that made everything feel a little more magical. I half-expected a fairy to flit by, sprinkling pixie dust and reminding me to keep my voice down.
The Spirit That Moves the Flying Bread Sticks
But here’s the kicker: amidst all this beauty, I found myself reflecting on the spiritual aspect of it all. It’s easy to get lost in the aesthetics, but there’s something deeper at play. This space, with its ornate details and vibrant colors, is a testament to human creativity and the desire to connect with something greater than ourselves.
So, what’s the takeaway from this little adventure? Sometimes, you need to step into a space that makes you feel small to appreciate the vastness of creativity and spirituality. Whether you’re an artist, a dreamer, or just someone looking for a moment of peace, these ornate spaces remind us that beauty exists in the details.
Am American in Rome
This time, our Italian conclave spared the bread sticks and managed to elect a new Pope. He’s American. Hailing from Chicago, the American Cardinal Robert Prevost was elected Pope Leo XIV.
Of course, being from Chicago, all Catholics are now banned from putting ketchup on their hot dogs. Kidding aside, the Cardinals managed to dodge the flying bread sticks and elect a new Pope. He graced the balcony earlier today and greeted the folks in the piazza. Presumably, he got to them before they passed out in the fountains.
Good job, there, Pope Leo! Already off to a good start.
The World Celebrates
So, as the world celebrates the new Pope, the next time you find yourself in a church like this, take a moment to soak it all in. Who knows? You might just leave with a little inspiration tucked away in your pocket, along with a newfound appreciation for stained glass and the people who create it, sealing wax, flying bread sticks, and kings.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to dodge some flying bread sticks and find a cupcake or two because, well, I’m Italian and you know we can’t live without food for too long.
Until next time…
