On the eve of the Conclave: A brief history and reflection

The election of a new pope always captures the world’s attention. The media cannot resist covering the intrigue of the most unique election process in the world. All eyes turn toward the chimney of the Sistine Chapel, where the color of the smoke reveals to the world the results of the secretive deliberations of the cardinal electors locked inside—conclave [Latin, con-clavis]—that is, “with a key.”

However, the method of selecting a new pope wasn’t always this way. The conclave process was a necessary remedy to intrigue, simony, and political interference.

The historical records are not entirely clear, but it seems the earliest successors to Peter may have been appointed by their predecessors. After the time of the Apostolic Fathers, however, the Roman pontiff was usually elected by a diocesan assembly of the clergy and faithful of Rome, as was common throughout all local churches during those first few centuries of the Church.

The popes later came to be elected by an assembly consisting only of local clergy, moderated by neighboring bishops. Results were disputed in some cases, and schisms would ensue with rival claimants to the chair of Peter.

With the legalization of Christianity under Constantine, the emperor began to exert undue influence on the process. Over the centuries, the civic authorities continued to meddle, whether they were Roman, Ostrogothic, Byzantine, or Frankish. Powerful men would invariably impose their candidate or insist on the prerequisite for their confirmation of the man who was elected.

Necessary reform came in the 11th century when Pope Nicholas II asserted the Church’s independence from secular rule and decreed that new bishops of Rome would be elected only by an assembly of cardinals.

This senior class of Roman clergy developed slowly throughout the first millennium. The term “cardinal” was first given to deacons serving the seven regions of the city, then to the senior priests of each of Rome’s parish churches, and finally to bishops of the seven suburbicarian sees surrounding the Eternal City.

The conclave, as we know it today, began during the interregnum following the death of Pope Clement IV in 1268. The cardinals were summoned to the city of Viterbo, north of Rome, where the pope had died. When they gathered to elect a successor in a local palace, a stalemate quickly developed on the matter of France’s involvement in the affairs of both Italy and the Church.

After months of no progress, the frustrated locals locked the cardinals inside the palace with guards stationed at the doors to force a decision. When the deadlock continued, they took matters further by removing the roof of the palace so the cardinals would be subject to the elements and even limited the cardinals’ sustenance to mere bread and water.

After 34 months, the longest tempe sede vacante, “time of the empty chair” in history, finally ended. In 1271, Teobaldo Visconto was elected and chose the name Gregory X.

The new pope responded to the obvious need for reform in papal elections. In 1274, Gregory promulgated the bull Ubi periculum during the Second Council of Lyon. New rules were established based upon the ad hoc methods of the people of Viterbo to induce the cardinals to fulfill their responsibility to the Church in a timely fashion.

800 years later, papal elections are conducted in essentially this same manner. As they deliberate and vote, the cardinals in conclave are sequestered from outside distraction and interference. They are only relieved once a new pontiff is chosen.

Each cardinal is the pastor of a titular church in Rome, symbolizing how it is still the Roman clergy who elect their bishop. The College of Cardinals now, however, is the most representative it has ever been of the Church’s global reach. The shepherd of the universal Church will be elected by cardinals from across the world who will bring with them the interests of the faithful they serve.

The cardinals cast their ballots in the Sistine Chapel. Above them is the famed ceiling adorned with Michelangelo’s frescoes. Before them is the same Renaissance master’s depiction of the Last Judgment; a stark reminder of their accountability to God for how they carry out the responsibility entrusted to them.

We are now on the eve of another conclave. There is much excitement, hope, and, to be honest, disquiet. It is important to remember that saints and sinners alike have sat on the chair of Peter. Christ is never substituted by his vicar. The pope is subject, like us all, to “Sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture [which] form one sacred deposit of the word of God” (Dei verbum, 10).

Profiles of the likely candidates abound and are more easily accessed than in any previous era. What if the cardinal we fear is elected? In a collection of essays titled Subversive Catholicism, Martin Mosebach provides an insight worth considering on this point:

For this office of “confirming his brothers in faith” Christ chose the very disciple who, while he had always shown courage and vitality, failed when it came to acknowledging his Master…

By choosing Peter, Christ shows that the office of representative requires no special intellectual gifts and talents, no firmness of character, and no proven stability—which means that every man is equally fitted and unfitted for the office…No pope can betray Christ more than Peter did in that courtyard, no pope can follow Christ more than Peter, who had himself crucified on his account. The choice of Peter establishes the clear distinction, in the Church, between the office and the person. It is this principle that makes it possible to encounter the incarnate, grace bestowing Christ even in unworthy human beings.

May the Holy Spirit guide the cardinals as they make their choice for the whole Church. And may “the Lord preserve, give life, [and] make blessed upon the earth” whoever walks out of the Sistine Chapel in the white cassock.