Part 2: In God's Name...The Empty Throne...Inside the Conclave

In God’s Name 

David Yallop

2

The Empty Throne 

Within twenty-four hours of Paul’s death, with his body unburied and his Papacy unevaluated, Ladbrokes, the London bookmakers, had opened a book on the Papal election. The Catholic Herald, while carrying a front-page article criticizing the action, took care to let its readers know the current odds. 

Cardinal Pignedoli was favourite at 5–2. Cardinals Baggio and Poletti were joint second favourites at 7–2, followed by Cardinal Benelli at 4–1. Also strongly fancied was Cardinal Willebrands at 8–1. Cardinal Koenig was quoted at 16–1. England’s Cardinal Hume was 25–1. These surprisingly long odds on the Englishman could perhaps be attributed to a statement Hume had made to the effect that he did not have the qualities for the job. Longest odds were quoted for Cardinal Suenens. Albino Luciani did not appear in the list of Papal runners. 

Condemned by some for displaying lack of taste, Ladbrokes defended themselves by pointing out that with regard to the empty throne the ‘newspapers are full of speculation about front-runners, contenders and outsiders.’ 

Indeed the speculation had begun even before Pope Paul’s death. Peter Hebblethwaite, an ex-Jesuit priest converted to Vatican-watching, had asked in the Spectator on July 29th, ‘Who is running for Pope?’ He picked out three form horses to follow – Pignedoli, Baggio and Pironio. Whether Pope Paul had read Hebblethwaites comment that he ‘cannot be expected to live very much longer’ in his last few days, is not known. 

The Italian media were a little slower off the mark. On the day after the Pope’s death the radio gave out nothing but Beethoven. On day two they relaxed a little with continuous Mozart. On day three there was a diet of light orchestral music. On day four the solemnity eased a little more with vocal renditions of ‘Moonlight Serenade’ and ‘Stardust’. Italian television for the first few days gave its viewers a variety of movies entirely peopled with nuns, Popes and cardinals. 

Careful analysis of the English-speaking press covering the first few weeks of August 1978 indicates that if the 111 cardinals were as perplexed as the Vatican Ologists then the Church was in for a long, confusing Conclave. 

Followers of Hebblethwaites writings must have had a particularly hard time backing the winner. In the Sunday Times of August 13th, Cardinals Felici, Villot, Willebrands, Pellegrino and Benelli were added to his list of tips. The following Sunday he told his readers, ‘The new Pope: it could be Bertoli.’ The Sunday after that even Luciani got a mention. It was reminiscent of a racing correspondent reviewing the form for the Grand National or the Derby. If he mentioned every horse then after the race his paper could quote his comment about the winner. 

A fish-seller in Naples had rather better luck. Using the numbers derived from the date of Pope Paul’s death, he won the national lottery. 

Despite the pomp and ceremony, the funeral of the Pontiff was a curiously unemotional affair. It was as if his Papacy had ended long ago. After Humanae Vitae there had been no more Papal encyclicals and, apart from his courageous comments when his close friend, the former Prime Minister Aldo Moro, had been first kidnapped then murdered, there had been little from Paul over the past decade to inspire an outpouring of grief at his death: a man to respect, not one to love. There were many long and learned articles analyzing his Papacy in depth but if he is remembered at all by posterity it will be as the man who banned the Pill. It may be a cruel epitaph, an unfair encapsulation of a sometimes brilliant and often tortured mind, but what transpires in the marital bed is of more import to ordinary people than the fact that Paul flew in many aeroplanes, went to many countries, waved at many people and suffered agonies of mind. 

In October 1975, Pope Paul had issued a number of rules which were to apply upon his death. One of these was that all cardinals in charge of departments of the Roman Curia would automatically relinquish their offices. This ensured that the Pope’s successor would have a completely free hand to make appointments. It also ensured during the period of sede vacante, between death and election, a considerable amount of nervous agitation. One of the few exceptions to this rule of automatic dismissal was the Camerlengo or Chamberlain. This office was held by Secretary of State Cardinal Jean Villot. Until the throne was filled, Villot became the keeper of the keys of Peter. During the vacancy the government of the Church was entrusted to the Sacred College of Cardinals who were obliged to hold daily meetings or ‘General Congregations’. 

Another of the late Pope’s rules quickly became the subject of furious debate during the early General Congregations. Paul had specifically excluded from the Conclave that would elect his successor all cardinals over the age of eighty. Ottaviani mounted an angry attack on this rule. Supported by the 85-year-old Cardinal Confalonieri and the other over-eighties, they attempted to reverse it. Paul had fought many battles with this group. In death he won the last one. The cardinals voted to adhere to the rules. The General Congregation continued, on one occasion discussing for over an hour whether ballot papers should be folded once or twice. 

Rome was beginning to fill, but not with Italians – most of them were at the beaches. Apart from tourists the city was swarming with pressure groups, Vaticanologists, foreign correspondents, and the lunatic fringe. Part of this last group went around the city sticking up posters that proclaimed, ‘Elect a Catholic Pope’. 

One of the ‘experts’ breathlessly informed Time Magazine, ‘I don’t know of one Italian cardinal who would feel happy voting for a foreigner’. He obviously did not know many Italian cardinals, certainly not the one who was Patriarch of Venice. Before leaving for Rome, Luciani had made it clear to former secretary Monsignor Mario Senigaglia, now officiating at the church of Santo Stefano, ‘I think the time is right for a Pope from the Third World’. 

He also left no doubt whom he had in mind. Cardinal Aloisio Lorscheider, Archbishop of Fortaleza, Brazil. Lorscheider was widely regarded as a man possessed of one of the best minds in the modern Church. During his years in Venice, Luciani had come to know him well and as he confided to Senigaglia, ‘He is a man of faith and culture. Further than that he has a good knowledge of Italy and of Italian. Most important of all, his heart and mind are with the poor.’ 

Apart from their meetings in Italy, Luciani had spent a month with Lorscheider in Brazil in 1975. They had conversed in a variety of languages and discovered they had much in common. What was unknown to Luciani was the high regard that Lorscheider had for him. Lorscheider was later to observe of that month in Brazil, ‘On that occasion many people hazarded the guess that one day the Patriarch of Venice could become Pope.’ 

Driven to Rome by Father Diego Lorenzi, the man who had replaced Senigaglia as Secretary to the Patriarch two years previously, Luciani stayed at the Augustinian residence near St Peter’s Square. Apart from his attendance at the daily General Congregations he kept very much to himself, preferring to walk in the Augustinian gardens, quietly contemplating. Many of his colleagues led more strenuous lives: Ladbroke’s favourite, for example, Cardinal Pignedoli. 

Pignedoli had been a close friend of the late Pope. Some Italian commentators cruelly observed he was the only friend Paul had. Certainly he appeared to be the only one to address him by the intimate ‘Don Battista’. In support of Pignedoli Cardinal Rossi of Brazil was at pains to remind the other cardinals of the tradition that Popes indicated who their successor should be and insisted that Pignedoli was ‘Paul’s best loved son’. Pignedoli was one of the most progressive of the Curial cardinals and hence disliked by most of the other Curial cardinals. He was cultured, well-travelled and, perhaps most important for his candidature, he had influenced either directly or indirectly the appointments of at least 28 of his brother cardinals. 

Straightforward and honest running for the Vatican Throne is considered rather bad form in the higher reaches of the Roman Catholic Church. Candidates are not encouraged to stand up and announce publicly what their programme or platform will be. In theory there is no canvassing, no lobbying, no pressure group. In practice there is all of this and much more. In theory, the cardinals gather in secret Conclave and wait for the Holy Spirit to inspire them. As the hot August days went by, phone calls, secret meetings and pre-election promises ensured that the Holy Spirit was being given considerable worldly assistance. 

One standard technique is for a candidate to state that he really does not think he measures up to the job. In this election run-up, that was said by a number with total sincerity, for example, Cardinal Basil Hume. Others made similar statements and would have been distressed if they had found their colleagues accepting them at their face value. 

Attending afternoon tea on August 17th, Pignedoli declared to a gathering of Italian cardinals which went right across the spectrum of right, centre and left, that in spite of all the urgings and promptings he did not feel that he was suited for the Papacy. He suggested to his colleagues that they should vote instead for Cardinal Gantin. It was an imaginative suggestion. 

Gantin, the black Cardinal of Benin, was 56 years of age. There was therefore very little chance of his election because of his relative youth. The ideal age was felt to be late 60s. Pignedoli was 68. Further, Gantin was black. Racialism is not confined to one side of the Tiber. Putting forward Gantin’s name could well attract votes for Pignedoli from the Third World whose cardinals held a vital 35 votes. 

Pignedoli remarked that whoever was elected it should be done with all possible speed. Voting in the Conclave was to begin on the morning of August 26th, a Saturday. Pignedoli felt that it would be fitting if the new Pope was elected by the morning of Sunday 27th so that he could address the crowds at mid-day in a packed St Peter’s Square. 

If there was a widespread desire among the cardinals for a quick resolution of the Conclave it would of course work greatly to the advantage of the candidate who entered with the largest following. Cardinals are just as susceptible to bandwagons as lesser mortals. To attain the Papacy Pignedoli knew that he had to look to the non-Curial cardinals to give him the 75 votes (two thirds plus one) essential for election. When the Curia had finished its internal fighting it would eventually focus on a specific candidate, preferably one of its own group. The pundits tossed a variety of Curial candidates into the air like demented jugglers – Bertoli, Baggio, Felici. 

In a curious manoeuvre to assist his own candidature, Baggio contacted Paul Marcinkus and assured him that he would be confirmed in his post as Head of the Vatican Bank if Baggio were elected. Bishop Marcinkus, unlike the cardinals who had been dispossessed by the late Pope’s rules, was still running the Bank. There was no public indication that he would not continue to do so. The gesture by Baggio mystified Italian observers. If they had been able to persuade any of the cardinals present during the private General Congregations to talk, the move by Baggio would have taken on a deeper significance. 

These meetings were giving very serious consideration to the problems facing the Church and to the possible solutions. In this manner Papal candidates emerge who are considered to have the abilities to implement the solutions. The August meetings were inevitably far ranging. The concerns that emerged included discipline within the Church, evangelization, ecumenism, collegiality and world peace. There was another subject that occupied the minds of the cardinals: Church finances. Many were appalled that Marcinkus was still running the Vatican Bank after the Sindona scandal. Others wanted a full-scale investigation into Vatican finances. Cardinal Villot, as Secretary of State and Camerlengo, was obliged to listen to a long list of complaints which all had one common denominator, the name of Bishop Paul Marcinkus. This had been the reason for Baggio’s offer to keep him on in the job, an attempt to maintain the status quo and also a gambit to win the votes of such men as Cardinal Cody of Chicago, who would be perfectly content to let Marcinkus stay in his job. 

The Cardinal from Florence, Giovanni Benelli, was another who preoccupied observers. As Paul’s troubleshooter he had made many enemies but it was freely acknowledged that he could influence at least fifteen voters. 

To muddy the form book even further the fifteen very disgruntled old men who were about to be excluded from the actual Conclave began to bring pressure to bear on their colleagues. Their group, which contained some of the most reactionary men in the Vatican, predictably began to push for the Cardinal who they considered most completely represented their collective point of view, the Archbishop of Genoa Cardinal Giuseppe Siri. Siri had led the fight against many of the Second Vatican Council reforms. He had been the principal right-wing candidate in the Conclave which had elected Paul. Now a number of the over-age cardinals considered he was the ideal man for the chair of Peter. The octogenarians were not unanimous, however – at least one, Cardinal Carlo Confalonieri, was quietly singing the praises of Albino Luciani. Nevertheless the group as a whole thought Siri should be the next Pope. 

Cardinal Siri claims that he is a much misunderstood man. During one sermon he had castigated women for wearing trousers and exhorted them to return to dresses, ‘so that they could remember their true function on this earth’. 

During the series of nine memorial Masses to Pope Paul, homilies were delivered by, among others, Cardinal Siri. The man who had blocked and obstructed Pope Paul at every turn pledged himself to the aims of the late Pontiff. The campaign for Siri went largely unnoticed by the Press. One of the arguments used by Siri’s supporters was that the next Pope must be an Italian. To insist that the next Pope be homegrown, even though only 27 of the voting cardinals out of a total of 111 were Italian, was typical of an attitude that abounds throughout the Vatican. 

The belief that only an Italian Papacy can control not just the Vatican and the wider Church beyond but also Italy itself is deeply embedded in the thinking of the Vatican village. The last so-called ‘foreign’ Pope had been Adrian VI from Holland, in 522. This highly talented and scrupulously honest man became fully aware of the many evils that were flourishing in Rome. In an attempt to halt the rising tide of Protestantism in Germany he wrote to his Delegate in that country: 

You are also to say that we frankly acknowledge that . . . for many years things deserving of abhorrence have gathered around the Holy See. Sacred things have been misused, ordinances transgressed, so that in everything there has been a change for the worse. Thus it is not surprising that the malady has crept down from the Head to the members, from the Popes to the hierarchy. We all, prelates and clergy, have gone astray from the right way . . . Therefore in our name give promises that we shall use all diligence to reform before all things, what is perhaps the source of all evil, the Roman Curia. 

Within months of making that statement Pope Adrian was dead. Evidence suggests that he was poisoned by his doctor. 

Now with Paul VI buried, the Roman Curia minority were yet again attempting to prevail over the majority. In one of the early General Congregation meetings with only 32 cardinals present, most of them Italian, it had been agreed that the 111 cardinals would not go into Conclave until August 25th and that voting would not start until August 26th. The delay of twenty days was just one day short of the longest permissible period laid down by the rules of the late Pope. It was also the longest in modern history. In 1878, sans TWA and Pan Am, the cardinals had waited a mere ten days before going into the Conclave that elected Leo XIII. The three-week period gave the Italian cardinals the maximum time to persuade the ‘foreigners’ of the wisdom of electing an Italian successor to Paul VI. They met unexpected opposition. Albino Luciani was not alone in thinking the time had come for a Pope from the Third World. Many from the Third World felt the same. 

The majority of the cardinals from Latin America attended a secret meeting at the Brazilian College in Rome on August 20th. No major candidate emerged but it was agreed that the need was for a pastoral Pope, for a man who clearly manifested holiness, who recognized the needs of the poor, a man in favour of power sharing, of collegiality, a man who by his very nature and qualities would have world-wide appeal. The group was primarily concerned with what the new Pope should represent rather than who the new Holy Father was, though the qualifications they specified reduced the field of possible winners dramatically. 

In Florence, * Giovanni Benelli, wrongly thought by many observers to be running for the Papacy, received the Latin American specification. He smiled as he considered the qualities the Latin Americans were seeking. It read like an accurate biography of exactly the man Benelli considered should be Pope. Picking up the telephone, he dialled a number outside Florence, and moments later was engaged in animated conversation with the Belgian Cardinal, Suenens. 

*Giovanni Benelli had been manoeuvred out of Rome in 1977. His continuing efforts to have Marcinkus removed from the Vatican Bank had resulted in a cabal, which included in its members Mancinkus and Paul’s secretary Monsignor Macchi, having Benelli removed from the Secretariat of State’s office. He had been made a cardinal and been given Florence by way of compensation. 

In Rome Pignedoli continued to give lavish dinner parties, Curial cardinals continued to lobby discreetly on behalf of Siri and the Vatican Press Office maintained its policy of giving the world’s commentators the minimum of co-operation, as the date of what Peter Nichols of The Times called ‘The World’s Most Secret Ballot’ drew nearer. 

The Latin American cardinals were not the only group to formulate a document that amounted to a job description. A week earlier, a group of Catholics calling themselves CREP (Committee for the Responsible Election of the Pope) held a Press conference in the Columbus Hotel, Rome. The brave man chosen to field questions from over 400 reporters was Father Andrew Greeley. Not himself a member of CREP, Greeley and a group of theologians had drawn up the job description on behalf of the Committee. 

There were to be many critics of the document. Much of the criticism was banal, much was dismissive. Undoubtedly the signatories appeared to be looking for an extraordinary man. It is equally without doubt that the document showed a deep love for the Roman Catholic Church. These men cared desperately about the nature and quality of the new Papacy. To dismiss men of the quality of Hans Kung, Yves Congar and Edward Schillebeeckx requires a mentality bordering on spiritual sterility. Professor Kung, for example, is in the view of many who are qualified to judge, the most brilliant Catholic theologian alive today. All the signatories of the press release have impressive records. 

HELP WANTED 

A hopeful, holy man who can smile. 

Interesting work, guaranteed income, residence comes with position. Protection by proven security organization. Apply College of Cardinals, Vatican City.

Thus began the job description. It went on to describe the man they would like chosen by the secret Conclave. It did not matter, they stated, if he was Curial or non-Curial; Italian or non-Italian; whether he was of the First, Second or Third World. It did not matter if he was an intellectual or nonintellectual, whether he was a diplomat or pastor, progressive or moderate, an efficient administrator or lacking in administrative experience . . . What was needed, the theologians said, at this present critical time in history was ‘a man of holiness, a man of hope, a man of joy. A holy man who can smile. A Pope not for all Catholics but for all peoples. A man totally free from the slightest taint of financial organizational wheeling and dealing.’ It went on to list other vital essentials. Reading the qualifications needed and comparing it with the list of leading candidates, the overriding impression is one of deep, urgent need bordering on desperation.[Clearly there was a group within the church, who knew of the corruption with the finances of the church.DC] 

Greeley was given a rough ride which got rougher when he had the temerity to suggest that perhaps a Pope of the female gender might not be a bad idea. To suggest this in a room largely full of macho Italian male reporters, showed enormous courage. Eventually the meeting ended in some disorder with a young Italian woman screaming at Father Greeley that he was evil and had sexual problems. A few days later Professor Hans Kung indicated in an interview with the Italian news magazine Panorama that in his view the entire Roman Catholic Church had and would continue to have sexual problems until something was done about Humanae Vitae. He put birth control at the head of the problems facing the new Pope. ‘It is a fundamental question for Europe and the United States but above all, for the Third World . . . A revision of Humanae Vitae is necessary. Many theologians and also bishops would have no difficulty in consenting to birth control, even by artificial means, if the idea could be accepted that rules established in the past by Popes could be corrected.’ 

On August 21st, Cardinal Lorscheider of Brazil made public through an interview exactly what was on the Latin American ‘wanted’ list. They sought a Pope who was a man of hope with a positive attitude towards the world. They wanted a man who would not seek to impose Christian solutions on non-Christians; who was sensitive to social problems and open to dialogue, with a commitment to the search for unity; a good pastor, a good shepherd in the way that Jesus was; a man who sincerely believed that the Bishops’ Conference should be an influencing factor on the Papacy rather than a mere charade. He must be open to finding a new solution to birth control, which, while it would not contradict Humanae Vitae, would go beyond it. 

Cardinals Benelli and Suenens, still avoiding the heat of Rome, were quietly building the candidature of a man who measured up to the desires of the Latin American cardinals, Father Greeley, and Professor Kung: Albino Luciani. 

When Luciani’s name surfaced in the Italian Press during the pre-Conclave period his candidature was dismissed as a gambit. One Italian Vatican expert, Sandro Magister, referred to ‘the non-colourful Patriarch of Venice’. Another, who should have known better, was Giancarlo Zizola. A few days before the Conclave, Zizola – who had interviewed Albino Luciani in depth nine years earlier – wrote a dismissive little biography entitled ‘With the poor (not on the left)’. Zizola quoted an unnamed source who had observed, ‘The least you can say is that he is now the recognized leader of the ecclesiastical right, a Venetian replica of Cardinal Ottaviani.’ 

Luciani, when questioned by the Press about the spasmodic emergence of his name among the contenders, dismissed the suggestion with a laugh. ‘I am at best on the C List for Pope.’ Content, the news media left him alone. His name was quickly forgotten. 

Remaining aloof from the wheeling and dealing, Luciani walked in the gardens of the Augustinian residence which overlook St Peter’s, where he engaged Brother Clemente in conversation. Clemente was perspiring as he laboured among the flower beds. Luciani recalled that when he was a boy he had worked in the fields. ‘Then I had callouses on my hands. Now I have callouses in my brain.’ 

As the day of the Conclave drew nearer Albino Luciani had other concerns. The five-year-old Lancia 2000 had developed engine trouble. He told his secretary, Father Lorenzi, that he must get it repaired quickly. The voting in the Conclave was due to start on Saturday, August 26th. Luciani insisted that the car must be ready for their return journey to Venice on Tuesday 29th. He wanted to make an early start. There was much to do upon their return home. 

On August 25th Luciani wrote to his niece, Pia: 

Dear Pia, 

I am writing to let you have the new stamps of the Sede Vacante and also to congratulate you for your first exam which went well. Let us hope the Lord will help you also for the rest. Today we finished the pre-Conclave with the last General Congregation. After which, having drawn lots for a cell, we went to see them. I’ve got number 60, a drawing room converted into a bedroom; it is like being in the seminary in Feltre in 1923. An iron bed, a mattress, a basin to wash in. 

In 61 is Cardinal Tomasek of Prague. Further on, Cardinals Tarancon, Madrid; Medeiros, Boston; Sin, Manila; Malual, Kinshasa. The only one missing is Australia and we would have a concentration from the whole world. I don’t know how long the Conclave will last, it is difficult to find the right person to confront so many problems which are very heavy crosses. Fortunately I am out of danger. It is already a very heavy responsibility to cast one’s vote in these circumstances. I am sure that as a good Christian you will pray for the Church in these moments. Say ‘hello’ to Francesco, Father and Mother. I am not writing to these last two as I am rather busy at the moment. Your very affectionate 

Albino Luciani 

The following day a few hours before the Conclave he wrote to his sister, Antonia: 

Dear Sister, 

I am writing to you shortly before going into the Conclave. These are heavy moments of responsibility, even if there is no danger for me, despite the gossip in the papers. Casting one’s vote for a Pope in these moments is a heavy weight. Pray for the Church, and an affectionate greeting also to Errere, Roberto and Gino. 

Albino Luciani 

Handing his letter to the Augustinians to be posted, he advised them that he had left most of his belongings in his room. That morning he had celebrated a Mass ‘for the Election of a Pope’ with his brother cardinals. Clemente had already taken an overnight bag for Luciani to the Sistine Chapel. Now the cardinal joined his colleagues in the Pauline Chapel with its frescoes by Michelangelo. Fussed over by Monsignor Virgilio Noe, the Papal Master of Ceremonies, and preceded by the Sistine Chapel Choir singing the hymn to the Holy Spirit, they walked through the Sala Ducale, beneath Bernini’s cherubs and into the Sistine Chapel. 

When Monsignor Noe called ‘Extra omnes’ (‘All out’), the choir, altar servers, television crews and all extraneous personnel departed. With Cardinal Villot standing just inside and Noe just outside, the door slowly closed on the 111 cardinals. It would not open until a Pope had been elected. The world’s most secret ballot would continue until puffs of white smoke told the waiting crowds in St Peter’s Square and the many millions of world-wide observers that the Vatican throne had been filled. 

3

Inside the Conclave

Whatever Pope Paul’s failings might have been, he certainly knew how to organize a secret Conclave. He had left very clear instructions about the proceedings to elect his successor. 

One of Paul’s preoccupations had been secrecy. Two days before the Conclave, the cardinals were obliged to swear a solemn oath. Under pain of excommunication they were forbidden subsequently to discuss the balloting ‘either by signs, word or writing, or in any other manner’. To drive home the point, the cardinals also had to promise and swear ‘not to use devices designed in any way for taking pictures’. Obviously Pope Paul did not entirely trust these princes of the Roman Catholic Church. 

In case any of the cardinals might have suffered a memory lapse between taking the Oath of Secrecy and entering the Conclave, they were obliged to take it again when those extraneous to the proceedings had left the Sistine Chapel. 

To make triply sure, after the cardinals had gone to their assigned rooms, or ‘cells’ as Paul preferred to call them, Cardinal Villot, helped by a number of colleagues and two technicians, made a search of the entire Conclave area looking for anyone who had hidden himself hoping for the scoop of a lifetime. Then in a manner reminiscent of Stalag Five or Colditz, all the various personnel were physically checked and a roll call of them taken in the Chapel. 

To ensure that nobody without was trying to get within, Paul had also instructed that a large retinue of Vatican personnel, including the Swiss Guard and Vatican architects, were to make a careful check outside the Sistine Chapel. Whether Paul was fearful that the banned octogenarians might attempt to climb the outer wall is not stated within the rules! 

Villot and his assistants plus the two technicians certainly earned their lire during the Conclave. Yet another of their tasks was to make random searches of the entire Conclave area, looking for tape recorders, video equipment and all forms of bugging device. 

With all this searching, body counting and double checking, the late Pope clearly appreciated that there would be very little time on the first day to get down to the actual task of voting for a Pope. While Rome basked in a heatwave, the temperature within the Sistine Chapel must have been close to unbearable for those mainly elderly men. The late Pope had not forgotten the windows. Under his instructions all of them had been sealed and boarded up. In this environment 111 cardinals would on the morrow make the most important decision of their lives. 

If outside the walls the hopes, needs and desires of millions concerning the new Papacy were myriad, then they accurately mirrored the cross-section of views contained within the Conclave. The right wing was reflected in the aspirations of those who desired a return to the pre-Vatican Council II world, where ecclesiastical discipline of a rigid nature was the keystone. The left wing sought a Pope who understood and related the Church to the poor, a Pope who would rule in a democratic manner and acknowledge that his bishops should influence the direction in which the Church moved. They yearned for a John XXIII, while the right wing longed for a Pius XII. In the middle were men grappling with both points of view, attempting to go backwards and forwards simultaneously. There was also Albino Luciani, a man with a simplicity that is rarely given to a person of such high intelligence; a simplicity that sprang from a sophisticated and complex mind. He saw his task as the need to acknowledge the unfulfilled aspirations of the Third World. Hence his decision to vote for the Archbishop of Fortaleza, Brazil, Aloisio Lorscheider, a man with glittering intellectual gifts who knew all about the problems of the poor. To elect such a man as Pope would be an inspired choice with or without the aid of the Holy Spirit. 

Giovanni Benelli and Leon Joseph Suenens had an equally inspired choice. Before the Conclave Benelli had watched with wry amusement when media speculation identified him as a possible Pope. He had remained silent when subjected to snide attacks by Curial cardinals such as Pericle Felici, the Administrator of the Patrimony for the Holy See, who had said of him, ‘His vote will go only to himself.’ 

Felici was soon to discover that Benelli had different plans for his vote and, more important, for the votes of others. When news of some of the quiet, discreet lobbying being done by Benelli and Suenens reached the Curia, they were as dismissive of Albino Luciani as were the men and women of the media. Of the many pre-Conclave biographies issued by the Vatican, that on Luciani was the shortest. Clearly those in power agreed with his own assessment, that he was no more than a C List candidate. Like the world’s Press, the Curia did not know the man. Unfortunately for the Curia the other cardinals did. After the election many of the world’s Press and the Vatican experts would excuse their inability to pick the winner by stating that he was ‘unknown, has not travelled outside Italy, does not speak any languages’. 

Albino Luciani was fluent in German, French, Portuguese and English, as well as his native Italian and Latin. Apart from being well known by the non-Curial Italian cardinals he had a wide range of friendships. The Poles, Wojtyla and Wyszynski, had stayed with him in Venice. Wojtyla had shaped Luciani’s thinking with regard to the problem of Marxism. He had stayed with Lorscheider during a trip to Brazil in 1975. Cardinal Arns, also from Brazil, was another close friend. Suenens of Belgium, Willebrands of Holland, Marty of France, Cooke of New York, Hoeffner and Volk of Germany, Manning of Los Angeles, Medeiros of Boston, were just a few of the cardinals who enjoyed friendships with Luciani. In addition to Brazil he had also been to Portugal, Germany, France, Yugoslavia, Switzerland and Austria, as well as Africa where he had created the link between Vittorio Veneto and Kiremba, a town in Burundi. 

He had formed friendships with many non-Catholics. The black Phillip Potter, Secretary of the World Council of Churches, had been his house guest. Others included Jews, Anglicans, and Pentecostal Christians. He had exchanged books and letters with Hans Kung. If the Roman Curia had known that, alarm bells would have rung all over Vatican City. 

This then was the man who now merely wished to cast his vote, see a new Pope elected, climb into his repaired Lancia and go home to Venice. He had already considered the possibility that by some absurd twist of fate his name might emerge from the pack. When Mario Senigaglia had wished him luck and urged him to take some of his speeches ‘just in case’, Luciani had dismissed the suggestion. ‘There is always a way out of it. You can always refuse.’ 

In Rome Diego Lorenzi, Luciani’s secretary since 1976, had also expressed the wish that this man, whom like Senigaglia before him – he regarded as a father, should be the next Pope. Again Luciani dismissed the suggestion. He reminded Lorenzi of the rules which the late Pope had drawn up. He referred to that supreme moment which occurs when one of the cardinals has received two thirds plus one of the votes, in this case 75. The cardinal in question is then approached and asked, ‘Do you accept?’ Luciani smiled at his secretary. ‘And if they elect me I will say, “I’m sorry. I refuse”.’ 

On Saturday morning, August 26th, after they had celebrated Mass and breakfasted, the cardinals walked to their allotted chairs in the Sistine Chapel. The rules urged that each cardinal disguise his handwriting on the voting card which was so designed that when folded in two it was reduced in size to about one inch. After scrutineers were appointed to check the votes, three more cardinals were appointed to scrutinize the scrutineers. The two-thirds plus one was Pope Paul’s safeguard against a cardinal voting for himself. 

Eventually, with the temperature as well as the tension mounting, the first ballot began. * 

After the ballot cards had been counted, checked, checked again and then checked for a third time to ensure that no cardinal had voted twice, the cards were then carefully threaded together, recounted, rechecked and placed in a designated box for subsequent burning. The voting on the first ballot produced the following result: 

Siri 25 votes 

Luciani 23 votes 

Pignedoli 18 votes 

Lorscheider 12 votes 

Baggio 9 votes 

The remaining 24 were scattered. The Italians, Bertoli and Felici, the Argentinian, Pironio and the Polish cardinal, Karol Wojtyla received votes, as did Cardinals Cordeiro of Pakistan and Franz Koenig of Austria. 

Albino Luciani had listened with growing incredulity as the scrutineer called out his name twenty three times. When a number of the cardinals sitting nearby had turned and smiled at him he merely shook his head, bemused. How could it be that he had obtained so many votes? 

Cardinals Benelli, Suenens and Marty could have supplied the answer. They had created what they considered to be a successful base from which to promote Luciani. Apart from these three, also voting for Luciani on the first ballot was an international cross-section of cardinals. From France, Renard and Gouyon; from Holland, Willebrands and Alfrink; Koenig of Austria; Volk and Hoeffner of Germany; Malula of Zaire; Nsubuga of Uganda; Thiandoum of Dakar; Gantin from Benin; Colombo of Milan; Pellegrino of Turin; Ursi of Naples; Poma of Bologna; Cooke of New York; Lorscheider of Brazil; Ekandem of Nigeria; Wojtyla of Cracow; Sin of Manila. 

Unaware of the identities of his supporters, Luciani concluded that this aberration would correct itself at the second vote, and, reaching for another voting card, again wrote the name of Aloisio Lorscheider upon it. 

The Curial cardinals were eyeing Luciani with renewed interest. Their first task had been to halt the Pignedoli campaign for the Papacy. The second ballot confirmed they had achieved that object. 

Siri 35 votes 

Luciani 30 votes 

Pignedoli 15 votes 

Lorscheider 12 votes 

The remaining 19 votes were again scattered. 

The voting papers together with those from the first ballot were stuffed into the antiquated stove, the ‘nero’ handle was pulled and black smoke, instead of emerging outside on the roof promptly filled the Sistine Chapel. Despite the fact that the funeral of Pope Paul and the Conclave were costing the Church several million dollars, some Vatican official decided to save a lira or two and had decreed that the chimney should not be swept. The result, with all windows sealed, threatened to bring the Conclave to a sudden and dramatic end. The late Pope had not foreseen the possibility of all 111 cardinals being suffocated to death but he had provided for several members of the Vatican fire brigade to be locked in the area. They promptly risked excommunication by opening several windows. 

Eventually some of the black smoke made its way out of the Sistine Chapel chimney and Vatican Radio confirmed that the morning had not produced a Pope. Many Vatican experts had predicted a long Conclave, reasoning that it would take a great deal of time for 111 men from around the world to arrive at any form of relative unanimity. Seeing the black smoke, the pundits nodded sagely and continued in their attempts to prise from the Vatican Press office such vital details as the lunch menu in the Conclave. 

The biggest and most diverse Conclave in the Church’s entire history moved hastily out of the Sistine Chapel to the temporary canteen. 

The third ballot would be crucial. Siri and Luciani were finely balanced. While a very troubled Patriarch of Venice picked at his food, others were busy. Giovanni Benelli talked quietly to the cardinals from Latin America. They had made their point, he assured them, but clearly a Pope from the Third World was not going to emerge during this Conclave. Did they want a man like Siri with his reactionary views on the throne? Why not a man who, if not from the Third World, clearly loved it? It was no secret, Benelli told them, that Luciani was voting for their own Aloisio Lorscheider. 

In fact Benelli was in danger of gilding the lily. The cardinals from Latin America had done their homework to a far greater degree than any other geographical group. Aware that their chances of electing Lorscheider were not great they had, before the Conclave, prepared a short list of non-Curial Italians. One of the men with whom they discussed the list was Father Bartolomeo Sorge, a Jesuit priest based in Rome. During a two-hour discussion Sorge pointed out the various aspects for and against each of the possibles. The name that had emerged was Albino Luciani. Father Sorge recalled for me his final words of advice to the group of cardinals: 

If you want to elect a Pope who will help to build up the Church in the world, then you should vote for Luciani. But remember he is not a man who is accustomed to governing, consequently he will need a good Secretary of State. 

As the quiet buzz of conversation continued, Cardinals Suenens, Marty and Gantin, less flamboyantly but with equal effectiveness, spoke to others who were still wavering. Koenig of Vienna quietly remarked to those sitting near him that non-Italians should have no objection to another Italian as their spiritual leader. 

The Curia were also considering their options over lunch. It had been a good morning for them. They had stopped Pignedoli. Siri, their candidate that morning, had clearly reached his maximum position. Despite all the pressure they had exerted before the Conclave it was now obvious to Felici and his clique that the left and the centre could not be drawn in sufficient numbers to Siri. Luciani, the quiet man from Venice, would surely be easy to control in the Vatican. Those who yearned for a pre-Vatican II Papacy were not convinced. They pointed out that Luciani more than any other Italian cardinal had put into practice the spirit of Pope John’s Vatican Council.

In England everything stops for tea. In Italy the same state of suspended animation is achieved during siesta. While some lingered in the dining hall, talking quietly, others retired to their rooms to sleep. In cell 60, Albino Luciani knelt and prayed. 

‘You can’t make gnocchi out of this dough,’ Luciani had remarked to several well-wishers before the Conclave. It now appeared that a significant number of his fellow cardinals disagreed with this self-evaluation. 

Through prayer he sought the answer, not to the ultimate result of the balloting, but to what he should do if elected. Luciani, who had never wanted to be anything other than a parish priest, stood on the threshold of the most powerful position in the Roman Catholic Church and went down on his knees earnestly to entreat his God to choose someone else. 

Emerging from his cell at 4.00 p.m. Luciani was warmly embraced by Cardinal Joseph Malula from Zaire. Full of joy Malula offered his congratulations. Luciani shook his head sadly. ‘A great storm is troubling me,’ he said as the two men made their way back for the third ballot. 

Luciani 68 votes 

Siri 15 votes 

Pignedoli 10 votes 

The remaining 18 votes on the ballot were scattered. Albino Luciani was now within seven votes of the Papacy. With a hand to his forehead he was heard to murmur, ‘No. Please no.’ 

It was Cardinals Willebrands and Riberio, seated either side of Luciani, who heard the entreaty. Both men instinctively reached out and gripped Luciani. Willebrands spoke quietly. ‘Courage. If the Lord gives the burden, he also gives the strength to carry it.’ 

Riberio nodded and then added, ‘The whole world prays for the new Pope.’ 

There was no doubt whatsoever in the minds of many present that the Holy Spirit was manifest on that hot afternoon. Others took a more cynical view of what was inspiring the Conclave. Taofina’y of Samoa was heard to murmur, ‘Power in the form of man, or rather a cardinal of the Curia.’ His eyes were fastened on Felici when he made this observation. 

Felici, who had spent the morning voting for Siri, now approached Albino Luciani. He handed him an envelope with the remark, ‘A message for the new Pope’. The piece of paper within contained the words ‘Via Crucia’, a symbol of the way of the Cross. 

There was great excitement in the Conclave. Many were now convinced that they were acting by Divine inspiration. Dispensing with the late Pope’s instructions that each cardinal should swear a solemn oath each time before voting, the fourth ballot began. 

Luciani 99 votes 

Siri 11 votes 

Lorscheider 1 vote (that of Albino Luciani) 

As the final vote was announced there was a tremendous burst of applause from the gathering. The time was 6.05 p.m. A clique of Siri supporters, members of the intransigent right, had held out to the end. The doors of the Chapel opened and various Masters of Ceremonies came, accompanying the Camerlengo Villot, to where Albino Luciani sat. Villot spoke. 

‘Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff?’ 

All eyes were upon Luciani. Cardinal Ciappi described for me that moment. ‘He was sitting three rows behind me. Even at the moment of his election he was hesitating, Cardinal Villot put the question to him and he continued to hesitate. Cardinals Willebrands and Ribeno were clearly encouraging him.’ 

Luciani eventually responded. ‘May God forgive you for what you have done in my regard.’ Then he added, ‘I accept.’ 

‘By what name do you wish to be called?’ asked Villot. 

Luciani hesitated again. Then for the first time he smiled: ‘John Paul the First’. 

There were murmurs of delight from some of the listening cardinals. The name was an innovation, the first double name in the history of the Papacy. Tradition holds that by the choice of name a Pope gives an indication of the direction his reign may take. Hence the choice of Pius would have delighted the right wing, indicating perhaps a return to a pre-conciliar Church. What message Luciani was sending out with his choice of name depended on what message his listeners wanted to receive. 

Why had Luciani, a man without ambition, accepted this position that for a number of other cardinals present would have been the realization of their life’s ambition? 

The answer, like much about this simple man, is complex. Research indicates that he was overwhelmed by the speed and size of the vote. Many spoke to me of this aspect. It is perhaps best summarized by a member of the Curia who had a close, twenty-year friendship with Albino Luciani. 

He was distressed by it. If he had not been so overwhelmed by the sheer quantity, if events had moved more slowly, taken the Conclave into a second day, he would have had time to gather himself and refuse; and yet, if he had decided in that Conclave that he was not the man to become Pope he would have refused. He was one of the strongest men I have known in thirty years in the Curia. 

There is also the vital element of Luciani’s personal humility. Describing the acceptance of the Papacy as an act of humility may appear to be contradictory. To equate the taking of supreme power with meekness is, in fact, entirely consistent if the last thing you want on earth is supreme power. 

Inside the Conclave, as the new Pope was led to the Sacristy, all was joy. Outside all was confusion. While the Gammarelli brothers, tailors to the Vatican, tried to find a Papal white cassock that fitted, the cardinals were merrily burning their voting papers with the special chemical that was designed to ensure white smoke for the watching world. The watching world saw first white smoke, then a short while later, puffs of black (indicating that the Church was still without a Pope) emerge from the small chimney. The smoke had begun to emerge at 6.24 p.m. As it continued to belch out in a variety of hues, the Gammarelli brothers inside were not having any better luck with the white cassocks. Normally before a Conclave they made three: small, medium and large. This time, working from a list of twelve papabili, they had produced four, including an extra large one. The slightly-built Luciani had obviously not featured on their short-list of fancied cardinals. Eventually, nearly drowning in his new cassock, he emerged from the Sacristy and, sitting on a chair in front of the altar, received each cardinal who, having kissed Luciani’s hand, was then warmly embraced by the new Pope. 

Suenens, one of the cardinals largely responsible for this election, observed ‘Holy Father, thank you for saying “yes”. 

Luciani smiled broadly at him. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if I had said “no”.’ 

The cardinals in charge of the stove were still happily throwing on voting papers and a large bundle of chemical candles which were supposed to produce the elusive white smoke. Vatican Radio manifestly knew less about what was going on than anyone else and uttered the remarkable statement: ‘We can now say with total certainty that the smoke is either black or white.’ In fact at that moment it was grey. 

Vatican Radio telephoned the home and office of the Gammarelli brothers and obtained no answer. The brothers meanwhile were in the Sacristy attempting to fasten the blame on someone else over the fiasco of the white cassocks. It was rapidly becoming one of those operas that only Italians can stage. 

Meanwhile, inside the Sistine Chapel, the cardinals had started to sing the Te Deum, the Hymn of Thanksgiving. 

Outside, Father Roberto Tucci, the Jesuit director of Vatican Radio, was observed hurtling towards the bronze door of the Papal Palace across the Piazza. The Captain of the Swiss Guard, who was obliged to greet the new Pope with a loyal salute of his men, was interrogating the guard who said there had been a burst of clapping when, to his astonishment, he heard the Te Deum. That meant but one thing – whoever he was, they had a Pope. The problem was he did not have a retinue of guards ready. 

Assuming the multi-coloured smoke indicated a deadlocked Conclave, the crowds in the Square had largely dispersed, when a voice boomed out on the massive loudspeaker address. 

‘Attenzione.’ 

People began to hurry back into the Square. The large door behind the balcony of St Peter’s swung open. Figures could be seen emerging on the balcony itself . . . It was now 7.18 p.m., over an hour since the election. Senior Cardinal Deacon Felici appeared on the balcony and suddenly the crowd below was still. 

Among that crowd was Luciani’s secretary, Don Diego Lorenzi. He was standing next to a family from Sweden who had asked him what work he did. Young Lorenzi remarked, ‘I am in Rome for a few days. I work in Venice.’ Then he turned his gaze to the figure of Felici on the balcony. 

‘Annuncio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus Papam’ – ‘I bring you news of great joy! We have a Pope’ – ‘Cardinalem Albinum Luciani.’ 

At the mention of the name ‘Albinum’ Lorenzi turned back to the Swedish family. Tears were running down his face. He smiled then said proudly, ‘I am the secretary of the newly-elected Pope.’ 

The roar from the crowd had almost drowned the ‘Luciani’. When Felici continued, ‘who has chosen the name John Paul the First,’ there was a bedlam of noise. Many, indeed most, had never heard of Luciani but what mattered was that they had a Pope. The personal reaction came a short while later when Albino Luciani stepped on to the balcony. The enduring memory is of that smile. It touched the very soul. The man exuded delight and joy. Whatever else this Papacy was going to be it was going to be fun. After the gloom and agonizing of Paul the contrast was an extraordinary shock. As the new Pope intoned the blessing ‘Urbi et Orbi’, to the city and the world, the effect was similar to a burst of bright dazzling sun after an eternity of dark days. 

In a moment he was gone, only to return. The Captain of the Swiss Guard had finally assembled a battalion. Albino Luciani waved and smiled. That smile reached out to everyone. The man from the mountains of northern Italy, who as a small boy had wanted more than anything to be a parish priest, stood on St Peter’s balcony on the evening of Saturday, August 26th, 1978 as Pope John Paul I. 

Luciani kept the Conclave in session that night. Having sat down to dinner in his previously assigned place, one of his first thoughts was for the over-age excluded cardinals. They had already been given the election result by telephone. Now Luciani invited them into the Conclave for the following morning’s Mass. 

The Secretariat of State had already prepared a speech which in theory was intended to indicate the direction of the new Papacy, any new Papacy. Luciani took the speech and, retiring to cell 60, altered and amended what had initially been vague statements about love, peace and war to a number of specifics. 

The speech was delivered at the end of the Mass of Thanksgiving celebrated the following morning. Luciani pledged his pontificate to the teachings of the Second Vatican Council. He placed a high value on collegiality, the sharing of power with his bishops. He declared that he intended to bring back into force the great discipline of the Church and to this end he gave high priority to the revision of the two codes of Canon Law. Union with other denominations would be pursued without compromise to the Church’s teachings but equally without hesitation. 

The central thrust of the speech revealed that this man who described himself in Venice as ‘a poor man accustomed to small things, and silence’ had a dream: a revolutionary dream. He gave notice of his intention to pursue the pastoralization of the entire Church, indeed of the entire world. 

The world awaits this today; it knows well that the sublime perfection it has attained by research and technology has already reached a peak, beyond which yawns the abyss, blinding the eyes with darkness. It is the temptation of substituting for God one’s own decisions, decisions that would prescind from moral laws. The danger for modern man is that he would reduce the earth to a desert, the person to an automaton, brotherly love to planned collectivization, often introducing death where God wishes life. 

With the text of Lumen gentium (the Light of Nations), Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution of the Church, in his hand, Albino Luciani gave notice that he intended to put the Church back where it belonged: back to the world and the words of Christ; back to the simplicity and honesty of its origins. If Christ returned to earth, Luciani wanted him to find a Church he would recognize – one free of political interests, free of the big business mentality which had corroded the original vision. 

At noon the new Pope appeared on the central balcony of the Basilica. The square below was packed tight with some 200,000 people. Millions more around the world watched on television as Luciani’s smile broadened in response to the thunderous applause. He had come out to say the Angelus but before giving the mid-day prayer he had decided to give his listeners a glimpse into the secret Conclave. When the applause and cheering had died down he promptly broke two Papal rules, the paranoiac secrecy that Paul had sternly insisted upon concerning the Conclave, and the use of the majestic ‘we’ that for nearly two thousand years had demonstrated Papal aspirations to territory. He smiled at the crowd and then began. 

‘Yesterday,’ the word was followed by an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, as if to say, ‘a funny thing happened to me on my way to the Conclave.’ The crowd roared with laughter. Luciani joined in the merriment, then began again. 

‘Yesterday morning I went to the Sistine Chapel to vote peacefully. Never could I have imagined what was about to take place. As soon as it began to be a danger for me, two of my colleagues who were sitting near me whispered words of encouragement.’ Simply and without trace of pomposity he recalled the words of Willebrands and Ribeno. He told the crowd why he had chosen his particular name. 

My thoughts were like this. Pope John had wanted to consecrate me with his own hands here in the Basilica of St Peter’s. Then, though unworthy, I succeeded him in the Cathedral of St Mark, in that Venice which is still filled with the spirit of Pope John. The gondoliers remember him, the sisters, everyone. On the other hand Pope Paul not only made me a cardinal, but some months before that, on the wide footbridge in St Mark’s Square, he made me blush to the roots of my hair in front of twenty thousand people, because he took off his stole and placed it on my shoulders. I was never so red-faced. Furthermore, in the fifteen years of his pontificate, this Pope showed not only me but the whole world how he loved the Church, how he served it, worked for it, and suffered for this Church of Christ. And so I took the name John Paul. 

Be sure of this. I do not have the wisdom of heart of Pope John, nor do I have the preparation and culture of Pope Paul. However, I now stand in their place. I will seek to serve the Church and I hope that you will help me with your prayers. 

With those simple, everyday words followed by the Angelus and his Blessing, Pope John Paul I announced his arrival to the world. The warm, enthusiastic response of the Rome crowd was an accurate reflection of the larger, watching world. 

Vatican watchers puzzled over the clues to the new Papacy contained in the choice of names. Is he John or is he Paul? One of those who was asked was Cardinal Suenens: ‘He will be both in his own way. His manner is closer to John’s but it is like mixing oxygen and hydrogen – you get water, two different elements producing a third substance.’ 

His chosen names hint at a continuity, but the fact that John Paul included the designation ‘The First’, a convention that is never applied until there is a second of the same name, should have told the Vatican watchers something. What they and the rest of the Church were about to experience related to neither of the new Pope’s immediate predecessors. It was unique. 

He had not spelled out to the listening world on this his first day, exactly how he intended to make his dream of a poor Church a reality but within hours he embarked on a course of action that was of vital importance if his vision was to be realized. 

In the evening of Sunday, August 27th, 1978 he had dinner with Cardinal Jean Villot and asked him to continue, at least for a while, as Secretary of State. Villot accepted. The new Pope also reconfirmed the various cardinals in charge of the departments of the Roman Curia. Having entered the Conclave without any aspirations to become Pope it would have been extraordinary if he had emerged with a prepared list of new Cabinet members. 

On August 31st Italy’s leading and highly respected economic periodical, Il Mondo, addressed a long, open letter to Albino Luciani. The letter asked for Papal intervention to impose ‘order and morality’ on the Vatican’s financial dealings which included ‘speculation in unhealthy waters’. The letter, entitled ‘Your Holiness, Is It Right?’, made a series of slashing attacks on what it saw to be the state of affairs inside the Vatican’s financial operations. Accompanying the open letter was a long analysis entitled ‘The Wealth of Peter’. 

Il Mondo asked Albino Luciani a number of highly relevant questions: Is it right for the Vatican to operate in markets like a speculator? Is it right for the Vatican to have a Bank whose operations help the illegal transfer of capital from Italy to other countries? Is it right for that Bank to assist Italians in evading tax? 

Financial editor Paolo Panerai attacked the Vatican links with Michele Sindona. He attacked Luigi Mennini and Paul Marcinkus of the Vatican Bank and their relationships with ‘the most cynical financial dealers in the world, from Sindona to the bosses of the Continental Illinois Bank in Chicago (through which, as Your Holiness’s advisers can tell you, all of the Church’s investments in the United States are handled)’. [connect some dots folks,all this is interconnected DC]
https://www.federalreservehistory.org/essays/failure_of_continental_illinois
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savings_and_loan_crisis
Panerai asked: 

Why does the Church tolerate investments in companies, national and multi-national, whose only aim is profit; companies which, when necessary, are ready to violate and trample upon the human rights of millions of the poor, especially in that Third World which is so close to Your Holiness’s heart? 

Of Marcinkus the open letter observed: 

He is, however, the only Bishop who is on the Board of a Lay Bank, which incidentally has a Branch in one of the great tax havens of the capitalistic world. We mean the Cisalpine Overseas Bank at Nassau in the Bahamas. Using tax havens is permitted by earthly Law, and no lay banker can be hauled into court for taking advantage of that situation (they all do); but perhaps it is not licit under God’s Law, which should mark every act of the Church. The Church preaches equality but it does not seem to us that the best way to ensure equality is by evading taxes, which constitute the means by which the Law state tries to promote the same equality. 

There was no official reaction from the Vatican, but inside Vatican City the responses ranged from quiet satisfaction felt by those who objected to the activities of the Vatican Bank and the Extraordinary Section of the Administration of the Patrimony of the Holy See (APSA), to anger and resentment from those who considered that the only problem with the Vatican’s financial speculations was that they should make even bigger profits. 

The Italian newspaper, La Stampa, weighed in with another piece entitled ‘The Wealth and Powers of the Vatican’. Journalist Lamberto Furno took a largely sympathetic look at Vatican finances and discounted some of the accusations that had been published over the years alleging massive Vatican wealth. But Furno did see a number of pressing problems facing the new Pope, including verification that the Church reforms to achieve a state of poverty, which in Furno’s mind had been implemented by Pope John and continued by Pope Paul, had become a reality. This could be achieved only by ‘publishing the Vatican budgets’. 

Furno concluded: 

The Church does not have riches or resources that exceed its needs. But it is necessary to give proof of this. Bernanos has his country Curate observing, ‘on sacks of money our Lord has written in his own hand, “Danger of death”’. 

The new Pope read these articles with interest. They confirmed in his mind the wisdom of a course he had already embarked upon. 

Before his election, Luciani had been aware of the many complaints about Vatican finances which had been aired to Cardinal Villot: complaints about the way that Bishop Marcinkus ran the Vatican Bank; complaints about his involvement with Michele Sindona; complaints about the links between the APSA and Sindona. Luciani had personal experience of the manner in which Marcinkus operated the Vatican Bank; experience dating from 1972, when Marcinkus had sold the controlling interest in Banca Cattolica del Veneto to Calvi, without reference to the Patriarch of Venice. 

He knew as early as 1972 that there was something terribly wrong with the whole structure and philosophy of Vatican finance but he had been powerless. Now he had the power. On Sunday, August 27th, 1978, as he sat eating dinner with Cardinal Villot, he instructed his newly confirmed Secretary of State to initiate an investigation immediately. There was to be a review of the entire financial operation of the Vatican; a detailed analysis of every aspect. ‘No department, no congregation, no section is to be excluded,’ Luciani told Villot. 

He made it clear that he was particularly concerned with the operation of the Istituto per le Opere di Religione, the Institute for Religious Works, generally known as the Vatican Bank. The financial review was to be done discreetly, quickly, and completely. The new Pope advised his Secretary of State that once he had considered the report he would decide on appropriate courses of action. 

Clearly Luciani was a firm believer in practising what he preached. In one of his ‘letters’ to St Bernard he had discussed the virtue of prudence. 

I agree that prudence should be dynamic and urge people to action. But there are three stages to consider: deliberation, decision, and execution. 

Deliberation means seeking the means that lead to the end. It is made on the basis of reflection, of advice that has been asked for, of careful examination. 

Decision means, after examining the various possible methods, make up your mind to choose one of them . . . Prudence isn’t an everlasting see-saw, suspending everything and tearing the mind apart with uncertainty; nor is it waiting in order to decide for the best. It is said that politics is the art of the possible, and in a way that is right. 

Execution is the most important of the three: prudence, linked with strength, prevents discouragement in the face of difficulties and impediments. This is the time when a man is shown to be a leader and guide. 

Thus Albino Luciani, a man totally committed to the belief that the Roman Catholic Church should be the Church of the poor, set in motion an enquiry into the wealth of the Vatican. He would deliberate, decide, then execute.

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