The day I was leaving New Zealand to journey to Rome for the funeral of Pope Francis and the conclave that was to follow, I first went to our cathedral, where it had been arranged for me to meet some reporters.
In one of the interviews, I was asked if I was nervous about participating in a conclave. My immediate response was, yes. I was nervous, I did not know what to expect, and this was a first for me. However, I also said that we needed to remember that the whole experience of a conclave was set in prayer. There would be a Mass for the election of a pope, then the litany of the saints would be sung as we processed into the Sistine Chapel, which meant we would be asking the saints, including past popes, to be praying for us in the task that faced us.
By the time I reached Auckland Airport about two hours later, I received a number of text messages from people saying that they had seen some of the interviews and that they would be keeping me and all the other cardinals in prayer. One person said that she was going to pray the litany of the saints for us every day, up to and through the conclave. I decided to do that myself every night. In a short video, I then appealed to people back home in New Zealand, asking them to join in praying the litany of the saints for us. This appeal was met with a very generous response from Catholics in New Zealand, for which I am very grateful.
From the moment of that interview, I have constantly reminded myself that the conclave is a time of prayer and is set in the context of prayer.
On my first full day in Rome, I attended my first general congregation meeting of the College of Cardinals. Of course, the meetings began and ended with a prayer. To my mind, though, it seemed very perfunctory; it was much like a parish council meeting of the past when a quick prayer is said before quickly turning to business.
Despite the way those prayers were recited and rattled off, time and time again, cardinals spoke of the need for prayer. They spoke in particular of praying for the guidance and the wisdom of the Holy Spirit that we might choose the right person to lead the church today.
There was also a sense of deep gratitude. Over and over again, people spoke of Pope Francis and the way he had lived the Petrine ministry. They spoke of the personality of Francis, his humanity, his care and concern for others; of the way he met, greeted, smiled at and welcomed people. I was filled with gratitude, too. The blessings Pope Francis brought to the church are numerous and were spoken of with real gratitude. Every time I think of such blessings or any of the blessings God pours into our lives, I think of how I have always tried to see that everything is a gift from God, including the conclave.
As I look toward the conclave, I am anticipating the procession into the Sistine Chapel and praying to the saints. I find it an amazing thought and blessing that we can ask all those men and women from the past, people we have known, members of our families, popes, well-known saints and many others who are now with God, to pray for us and this daunting but privileged task that is ahead of us.
As the conclave draws near, I am becoming more nervous and apprehensive about what is ahead of us. All I am asked to do is to trust in God. To be part of a group discerning who the right person is to lead the church in the world today is something I never thought I would be part of. But I also know that I have the prayers of many, many people behind me. In 30 years of ministry as a bishop, I have been led many times to repeat over and over again the words of Jesus, “Do not let your heart be troubled, trust in God still and trust in me” (Jn 14:1).
Over the years when people have asked me for my definition of prayer, I also use words from John’s Gospel, the simple words spoken, I believe, as an invitation: “Remain in my love” (Jn 15:9). Now, I see those words not just as an invitation from Jesus to remain in his love at prayer time but to remain in his love every moment of the day whatever I am doing. My hope is that in these days of conclave, I will not just be caught up in practicalities but stay aware that in this memorable and momentous time, we all remain in God’s love.
On the Saturday before the conclave began, I was praying with the Jesuit app “Pray As You Go,” as I often do. It was the usual Saturday examen on the app. I was becoming more and more unsettled because of the task ahead of me. However, this examen enabled me to pause, reflect and face the day with new energy. On this particular examen, we were reminded that from time to time, Jesus needed to withdraw to quiet places to be alone with his Father. It invited us to imagine ourselves doing just that with Jesus beside us and suggested that we find a space to sit together and simply enjoy being present with Jesus. It then said to picture him as he leans toward us and asks, “How has your week been?” There was plenty I could share with him. Then he asked the questions, “When did you sense me close to you?” and “When did you feel most alone?”
After speaking with Jesus about these things, it was suggested that we tell him a little bit about the week ahead and to say if there was something that concerned us. It was natural for me on this particular day to talk about what was ahead next week. As the prayer time came to an end, the suggestion was to stand up and in our minds to walk a while together.
All of this was very helpful for the week ahead.
Of course, the conclave should be a prayerful experience. Think of the incredible setting of the Sistine Chapel. Think of former conclaves, the people who have prayed in that sacred place, the litany of the saints sung there. Then there is the awesome surroundings of Michelangelo’s famous ceiling and his painting of “The Last Judgement.” It is natural that any of us would be apprehensive, and perhaps even scared, because of the enormous task before us. This, though, is the work of God; the Holy Spirit will guide and direct us.
I sometimes suggest to people who are searching for God to go to or to think of a favorite and beautiful scene, a place of majesty and grandeur. I suggest they just sit for a while and think of God’s presence in this particular place, and then acknowledge to themselves, “God was here in this place first.”
If I’m going to be overawed by the task ahead of us, I know that I simply have to look around, at my brother cardinals, at “The Last Judgement,” and acknowledge, “God was here in this place first.”
