It has been a summer of bad news for American politicians. Economic fear is at its highest since the Panic of 1837, causing President Biden's popularity to fall to Van Buren-like levels. The Supreme Court has somehow managed to top Biden's feat, with its approval rating now nearing what political scientists call the "Anthony Weiner zone". Meanwhile, congressional hearings revealed that our esteemed 45th president may not have been the morally faultless leader that we all thought he was. Say it ain't so!
But the political situation in the Vatican is even more troubling, as there is rampant speculation that Pope Francis may be on the verge of resignation due to health problems. The 85-year-old pontiff is suffering from the typical issues associated with aging, like lapses of infallibility and accidental releases of "holy water". It's sad to see this grandfatherly old man wandering around Rome for hours after he forgets where he parked the popemobile. It's even more sad when he puts his white robe on backwards and neglects to button it.
What happens if the pope quits, and we must select a new one? It has been more than nine years since we were last faced with this difficult scenario, but many people still remember the horrors that come with a papal election campaign. There are the non-stop negative television ads, financed by mysterious dark-money groups, and the incessant robocalls and pleas for donations. Then there are the divisive Facebook posts by longtime friends who must now be ostracized because they think Garth Brooks would make a better pope than Peyton Manning or Bette Midler. Ultimately, billions of dollars of campaign spending go up in a cloud of white smoke as none of the declared candidates is elected. Instead, the cardinals vote for some obscure guy who happens to be in the room with them, all because he was nice enough to bring in doughnuts for everyone on the first morning of the conclave. The crowds leave the Vatican in disappointment, and the Roman Catholic Church takes one more step down the ladder of cultural irrelevance.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Many people, especially those under 90, really don't know the first thing about the papacy and the accompanying election process. As one of the top candidates from the controversial election of 2005, I have an obligation to share my knowledge with the world. Therefore, I provide the following explanation of a Vatican election. It has been adapted (with minor changes and updates) from my obscure political memoir, How Not to Run for Pope:
When a papal vacancy occurs, the College of Cardinals convenes at the Vatican. This isn’t really a college in the educational sense, but is more like the Electoral College that we have in the United States. Its purpose is to look at the will of the people, ignore it, and then decide who the next pope should be. The members of this group are all older Catholic men who have been called away from their day jobs (mostly as bishops or church functionaries) to participate in the election. For them it is a lot like jury duty, but without everyone trying to come up with an excuse not to be there. The men are called cardinals because the distinctive red robes that they wear are the same color as the bird of that name.
The first step in the election is to identify the candidates for the papacy, who are collectively known as the papabili. A member of the papabili is said to be papable, which is one of the most underused adjectives in the English language. Here are a few examples of how you can powerfully employ these expressive words in your everyday speech:
“I’ll never come to this nude beach again. It’s full of papabili every time I’m here. It makes us regular guys feel a little inadequate.”
“When we got married, I thought you were the most papable man in Wisconsin. Now I’m not even sure if you were baptized!”
“At this time Delta Airlines would like to invite first class passengers, SkyMiles Medallion members, and papabili to board. All others please loiter around the gate impatiently until your zone is called.”
“Your honor, not only does my client have strong ties to the community, he is also highly papable. So I’m asking you to consider reducing his bond to $50,000.”
After they have drawn up a list of the papabili, the cardinals lock themselves in a conclave to do the actual voting. The conclave is like a hotel with no cable TV, no swimming pool, and no communication at all with the outside world. It’s meant to be boring so that the cardinals reach a decision quickly instead of sitting around running up a big room service tab, as they did one time in the 13th century. As the cardinals deliberated for several weeks, the crowd outside eventually got so restless that they ripped the roof off of the conclave to try to speed things up. This incident was undoubtedly the inspiration for Parliament’s 1970s funk classic “Tear the Roof Off the Sucker.”
The conclave procedures are governed by the church’s Apostolic Constitution, which no one has ever successfully read to completion. Whenever someone gets close to finishing it, the current pope publishes a new one that changes many of the rules that the previous pontiff established. Under the current Constitution, the cardinals have to keep voting twice each day of the conclave until one candidate has at least a two-thirds majority. (If nobody has been elected after two weeks of this routine, the cardinals usually just pick whoever has the most vowels in his name.) After each vote the ballots are burned in the fireplace of the Sistine Chapel so that no one can ever try to figure out who voted for whom. Spectators are sometimes able to guess at what is going on inside the conclave by the color of the smoke coming from the chimney. Although no one knows for sure, here’s my hypothesis as to what the colors mean:
White smoke indicates that a new pope has been elected. The cardinals are just waiting for a recount from Florida before they announce the winner.
Black smoke means the cardinals found some really old wine that was in Pius XI’s crypt, and they are grilling some nicely charred steaks to go with it.
Red smoke means that the cardinals’ vestments didn’t meet fire safety standards, and the entire electorate has perished in a tragic ballot-burning mishap.
Yellow smoke means one of the cardinals had too much of Pius XI’s wine and mistook the fireplace for a urinal.
The winner of the election is announced on St. Peter’s Square with the cry, “Habemus papam!” (literally, “Here be a pope!”). If the new pope happens to already be present at the Vatican, he is introduced to the crowd. Otherwise, a camera crew is dispatched to track him down, and the reaction of the surprised winner is displayed on a large television screen.
After a new pope is sworn in, he is escorted to the Crying Room. Here he breaks down in tears upon learning how much popes are paid: zero. The pope gets free food, lodging, health care, vestments, and popemobile rides, but earns no salary whatsoever. For personal expenses not covered by the Vatican benefit plan, he must rely on income from speaking engagements, product endorsements, and autograph signings. However, most popes sadly forgo these lucrative opportunities that are staring them right in the face.
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