The Vatican, 2058
Angelo Salzano stepped into the forming line of old men wearing red robes and gold crosses and filed into the Sistine Chapel.
The 120 princes of the Catholic Church took their seats at four rows of tables. Each man then walked to the front and took an oath not to reveal what was about to happen.
A monsignor called out “Extra omnes!” — Latin for “Outside, all of you!” — and the massive double doors were closed, a key was turned and the conclave to choose a new pope was under way.
The presiding cardinal, Giuseppe Moretti, explained each step in the ancient ritual. Then each man wrote a few words in Latin on a rectangular piece of paper, “I elect as supreme pontiff ...,” followed by his name.
One by one, they placed the paper on a gold saucer at the front of the room and tipped it into an urn. Then three cardinals, known as scrutineers, read out the name on each slip, keeping count of all the contenders.
From the start, three cardinals got the most votes: Kristof Nagy from Hungary, Jean Kapinga from Congo and Angelo Salzano from Genoa. Nagy was in the lead. However, none of them got close to the 80 votes required to secure the papacy.
The ballots were then stuffed into a cylindrical, cast-iron stove that had been installed by the main entrance of the chapel. Another stove next to it received chemicals to turn the smoke black. This is how thousands of people amassed in St. Peter’s Square, and the world at large, learned a new pope had not yet been elected.
Later that afternoon, after a second round of voting, the same three cardinals remained the leading vote-getters. This time, though, Salzano took the lead. Still, black smoke signaled there would be no good news from the Vatican that day.
The following morning, in a third round of voting, Salzano got 84 votes. He had won. Inside the chapel, the cardinals rose and applauded. Outside, white smoke emerged, and the world cheered.
Salzano was stunned. He had never expected to become pope. He had been a longtime Vatican bureaucrat, a man who worked behind the scenes. Now he was the leader of the world’s nearly two billion Catholics.
Cardinal Moretti stepped over to him and said, “Do you accept your canonical election as supreme pontiff?”
“Yes,” Salzano said.
He then told Moretti the name he would assume, Francis III, and went to change into his newly tailored papal vestments in the Room of Tears, so named because many newly elected popes had wept there at the enormity of their task.
Now wearing his new vestments, Salzano returned to the Sistine Chapel. One by one, the cardinals approached him and pledged obedience.
Then he headed to the balcony of St. Peter’s. Already there, Moretti proclaimed, “Habeumus papam! We have a pope!”
One hundred thousand people in St. Peter’s Square below cheered as one.
“I present Angelo Salzano, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, who has taken the papal name Francis III.”
Again, the crowd roared. Moretti then stepped aside, and Salzano appeared. Looking out at the sea of humanity, the new pope extended his right hand and, several times, made the sign of the cross.
A few minutes later, as the cheering and applause finally began to subside, Francis III leaned into a microphone and said, “Peace be with you.”
The crowd fell silent.
“I am honored beyond words. My intention is simple: to continue the work of Pope Francesca to rededicate ourselves to following Jesus’ great commandment. May God bless you all.”
Then the new pope bowed and went inside.
In Sofia, Bulgaria, Cardinal Ivan Penov sat alone, watching the proceedings on a widescreen TV in his well-appointed apartment. Two years earlier, he had been forced to retire by Pope Francesca. He still hadn’t forgiven her.
Now, listening to her successor’s words, he muttered, “And your reign too will be brief.”
Angelo Salzano, 68, had led the Roman Curia, the papal bureaucracy, for 11 years. He had been appointed by Pope Francis II. For the past three years, he had served in this role for Pope Francesca, the Catholic Church’s first female pontiff.
Francesca, like her two immediate predecessors, Francis I and II, had been a reformer. But she had taken her idea of reform farther than any pope had in a century. Her vision for the Church was radical: to return to Jesus’ great commandment to “love God and love your neighbor.”
To determine how the Church would actually go about doing this, Francesca had convened Vatican III. Thousands of members of the clergy as well as lay people from all over the world had met over 18 months, following a process designed and led by Salzano.
But no sooner had Vatican III concluded than Pope Francesca died of a heart attack. The world mourned. Salzano was bereft. He considered Francesca the best leader he had ever known.
Working with Francesca had renewed Salzano. He was inspired by her simple vision for the Church and energized about helping make it a reality.
Now Francesca was gone, and the future of the Church was up to Francis III.
In his first official act as pope, Francis III called a news conference in the Vatican for that afternoon. Francesca had also called a news conference right away when she was elected pope. She wanted to be clear about her direction from the start. So did he.
Now reporters were gathered in the same, large conference room. At exactly 3:00 p.m., the new pope came in and stepped over to the podium.
At six feet, three inches tall, Francis III cut a very different figure than his diminutive predecessor. Like her, though, he had chosen to wear a simple white robe.
“Thank you for being here on short notice,” he said. “I suppose this day is turning out a bit differently than any of us had planned.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
The new pope had no notes, and there was no teleprompter.
“I just wanted to say just a few words about the direction of this papacy,” he said. “Simply put, it will be dedicated to enacting the reforms called for by Vatican III. We will rededicate ourselves to bringing Jesus’ teachings to life. We will focus on helping the poor and disadvantaged. And we will continue to flatten the structure of our Church and make it more inclusive.
“Pope Francesca was an extraordinary leader. She was also a woman of the world. She led with both eyes open. My eyes are open too. Change is never easy. I realize that following through on Vatican III will require us to change, as individuals and as a Church. And I know that real change will take time.
“Pope Francesca did not want to simply proclaim a new way for the Church, like some ancient decree. She wanted to engage Catholics around the world in a dialogue about how, together, we will advance our common mission. She was about to begin a global tour in St. Louis, Missouri, where she was from. I will follow in her footsteps and make a global tour of my own, beginning in my hometown of Genoa, here in Italy. Of course, no plans have yet been made, but I hope to begin soon. We’ll be sharing details over the next few weeks.
“Finally, I would ask everyone for their prayers. Our Church is beginning anew. Our task is sacred. Our work will not be easy, but we enter into it with joyful hearts and full faith in God as the abiding and loving source of our strength. May God bless us all.
“Now, I’ll be happy to take your questions.”
Francis III had no illusions about the challenges he now faced. He knew that, while there was strong support for a more progressive Church, there was also growing resistance to this vision within the Church.
Surveys showed nearly 40 percent of Catholics felt the Church’s reforms had gone too far. What’s more, they believed the last few popes had led the Church in the wrong direction.
In their view, it was wrong to have allowed priests to marry and women to be ordained. Many felt the Church had become “too soft.” Some wanted to bring back old traditions, from priests wearing cassocks to saying the Mass in Latin.
This far-right way of thinking had become a global movement. It even had a name: “The Right Way.”
There was no single leader of this movement. However, one man’s name was mentioned more than any other: Cardinal Ivan Penov. Officially, he was retired, but Penov had never let go of his right-wing followers. If anything, his forced retirement had increased his standing among them.
Francis III was realistic about his chances of changing hardline conservative Catholics’ minds. But he saw himself as the leader of all Catholics, not just those who agreed with his more progressive vision for the Church. And he was hopeful that, by traveling the world as a personal ambassador for a more community-minded Church, he could at least solidify support for the reforms called for by Vatican III.
Yet Penov loomed in his mind. It was an open secret that he was behind an attempted assassination attempt on Pope Francesca, even though he was never charged with a crime. Now Francis III wondered if his life too was at risk.
But he would not let that stop him from taking his message to the people, and he tapped a small group from the Roman Curia to plan his global tour.
Their plan called for visiting 20 countries over three months. The pope would indeed begin in Genoa. From there, he would travel west.
Francis III would leave for Genoa in the spring, after tending to a range of official duties. Salzano had spent much of his career navigating bureaucracy. Now, as pope, he was swamped by it. By spring, he couldn’t wait to get out of Rome.
His visit to Genoa would begin by celebrating an open-air Mass on the Piazza De Ferrari, the main square in the heart of the city.
Genoa had been a center of commerce in Italy since the Middle Ages. The tall buildings around the Piazza still housed many financial firms. Some had once been palaces. Others were modern office buildings. Genoa was a city both old and new.
Angelo Salzano’s father had spent his career working as a banker in one of the older buildings. As a boy, Angelo would sometimes go with him to work. He was drawn to the elegant design of the offices and the refined way everyone dressed. He imagined himself working in such a place one day.
Like his father, Angelo had a mind for numbers. Early on, he decided he too would be a banker. In college, he majored in finance.
One summer, he interned with his father’s firm. One morning, walking across the piazza on his way to work, Angelo came across a shabbily dressed man, sitting near the fountain, with a basket in front of him. He had always tried to avoid beggars, but he didn’t see this one until he was nearly upon him.
“Buon giorno,” the beggar said.
“Buon giorno,” Angelo replied.
The beggar simply smiled at Angelo. Now feeling obliged to give him something, Angelo pulled out a five Euro note and dropped it in his basket.
He expected the beggar to say thank you. Instead, he said, “You are a man of God.”
Angelo wasn’t sure what to say, so he simply nodded and walked away.
At work that day, Angelo couldn’t stop thinking about what the beggar had said. How did he know this? Angelo didn’t feel like a man of God. He’d been raised Catholic but didn’t consider himself religious. He no longer even attended Mass on Sundays.
After work, Angelo stopped into the Church of San Pancrazio at the edge of the piazza. The church was small. There were no pews, only chairs. Angelo sat down. Looking around, he contrasted the church’s simplicity with the finely wrought features of his father’s workplace. The elegance and opulence of those offices had once been so alluring to him. But now, immersed in it every day, he had begun to feel differently. The cherry wood paneling, the wool carpeting, the ebony desks had lost their appeal, as had the prospect of spending his life as a banker.
Angelo felt lost. For the first time, he questioned his path. He wasn’t sure where he belonged or what he should be doing. Then he thought again about what the beggar had said. “You are a man of God.” Maybe I am, he thought. Maybe I’m being called to a different kind of life.
Angelo had never thought about becoming a priest. But now, he was intrigued by the idea. He returned to college in the fall, but the more he studied business, the less it appealed to him — and the more he thought about a religious life.
Over the Christmas holiday, his parents were shocked when Angelo announced he wanted to suspend his university studies and enter the seminary.
“Wonderful!” his mother said.
“Why don’t you think about this a bit more?” said his father. “Finish this school year. Then you can decide.”
He followed his father’s advice. By summer, his calling felt stronger than ever. That fall, to his mother’s delight and his father’s chagrin, Angelo entered the seminary.
From the start, it felt like the right place for him. The structured regimen fit with his disciplined nature. He found theology and philosophy fascinating and refreshing. And the more he saw the kind of work priests were doing, the more Angelo felt called to such a ministry.
Now, nearly 50 years later, Angelo Salzano had become Pope Francis III. It had all begun for him that morning on the Piazza De Ferrari. So he knew that is where he must begin his world tour as pope.
It was a warm and brilliant spring day in Genoa. The piazza was filled with people, who surrounded the stage that had been constructed for the pope to celebrate Mass.
Signs and banners waved throughout the crowd. Many welcomed Francis III home. Some, though, were a reminder of the opposition he faced. “Jesus wept,” said one. “Bring back Benedict,” said another.
Just after noon, Francis III stepped up the pulpit and began his homily.
“My brothers and sisters,” he said with a broad smile. “It is so good to be home.”
The crowd cheered wildly, and the pope pivoted, waving to his fellow Genoese all around him. It was a scene of joy and sweet communion.
Except for two men with rifles. Each of them crouched low behind slightly opened windows on the upper floors of two tall buildings. Each had Francis III in the crosshairs of his scope. Each was wearing an earpiece.
“Now,” said a voice in their ears.
Each man squeezed the trigger on his gun, and two shots rung out. At that very moment, the pope had turned to face the people behind him. Then his body jerked sideways, as if someone had pushed him, and he fell to his left.
A priest close to him watched in horror as Francis III hit the wooden floor hard. He lay there, not moving. Blood seeped through his white robe and pooled around his upper body and head. The cleric knelt beside him but wasn’t sure what to do.
“Help!” he cried. “Help!”
By then, security guards and police had rushed onto the stage and surrounded the pope, facing outward, their rifles and handguns drawn. One policeman spoke into a walkie talkie on his shoulder. A siren blared.
The stunned crowd was hushed. People could no longer see Francis III. They weren’t sure what had happened, but they feared the worst. “No!” someone shouted. People were crying. Some knelt and prayed.
Now medics were on the stage, examining the pope. They called for a stretcher, and two men rushed up the stairs with one. They carefully lifted the pope onto it, and four men slowly carried him down. A few minutes later, the piercing sound of an ambulance siren began to fade.
Everything was confusion. No one made an announcement. Some police ushered people from the piazza while others ran into several of the surrounding buildings and began looking for shooters.
Five hours later, Pope Francis III lay in bed in the International Evangelical Hospital, unconscious after surgery. He had been hit near his left shoulder. The bullet had shattered his collarbone. Fortunately, it had missed vital organs, though it came dangerously close to his carotid artery.
A second shot had missed the pope altogether. Unfortunately, it had hit a woman standing in the crowd. Tragically, it killed her instantly.
Within an hour of the shooting, police had discovered and apprehended two gunmen. Each was hiding on the top floor of a building. They had hidden there overnight and managed to elude a final security search of all the buildings around the piazza that morning.
The men were Bulgarian. Even before they were interrogated, authorities in Sofia were knocking on the door of Cardinal Ivan Penov’s apartment.
Pope Francis III was a strong man. Within a few days, he was able to get out of bed and walk around his hospital room. But he would not be able to return to Rome for a month, and his full recovery would take another month beyond that.
News of the assassination attempt sparked an outpouring of prayers and well wishes from around the world. The pope was grateful — and he hoped the goodwill would translate into support for Vatican III.
For a while, it did. Francis III’s global tour would have to be postponed. But from a meeting room in the hospital, he began to conduct video calls with groups of Catholics in the countries he had planned to visit. He held these calls every few days. When he returned to Rome, he continued them, eventually meeting virtually with Catholics in all 20 of the countries on his scheduled tour.
News coverage of these calls was generally positive, and it helped create enthusiasm for the reforms of Vatican III. As the pope recovered physically, his spirits were buoyed by stories of Catholics all around the world doing so much more to help the poor and disadvantaged in their communities. Clearly, efforts to make the Church more externally focused were working.
He was also pleased by plans developed by a small working group of the Roman Curia to reduce the number of dioceses and archdioceses globally from 3,000 to 2,000 over five years. This streamlining would save enormous time, money and effort and push decision-making down to the local level, where clergy and lay people best know what’s needed.
And he was excited that a small group of clergy and lay people were working on recommendations for making the Church more inclusive. They promised recommendations soon.
Francis III confided in his old friend Cardinal Giovanni Luciani, “It is doubtful we’d be making such strong progress if I hadn’t been shot.”
“I don’t know about that, Angelo. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
But there were distressing signs too. The Right Way was capitalizing on all the attention being paid to the reforms of Vatican III to rally ultraconservative Catholics in protesting those very reforms.
The likelihood that the Church would soon sanction same-sex marriage was a particular flashpoint for many. Francis III had privately signaled his support for same-sex marriage. Pope Francesca had been supportive too, though she stopped short of tackling that divisive issue to help ensure broad support for Vatican III.
Now that Vatican III was rolling out, Francis III intended to issue an encyclical on same-sex marriage and use that as a basis for officially including gays and lesbians in the Church, a move he felt was long overdue.
The pope held this close, but there are no secrets in the Vatican. Rumors that the Church would soon be “defiled” incensed hardline Catholics around the world, especially in Asia and Africa, where the Church, like the world, was growing fastest.
There was open talk of a schism within the Church. Some ultraconservatives had even begun calling their faction “The True Church.”
Such talk was unsettling to Francis III, and he felt a need to counter it. He turned to a small group of trusted advisors, including Luciani, for guidance.
Their counsel was to fortify support for Vatican III in more progressive countries and communities and try to build alliances with conservative Catholics around common-ground issues, such as homelessness.
Francis III listened carefully but pushed back.
“It sounds like a recipe for further division,” he said. “We need to convert hearts and minds.”
“Your Holiness,” Luciani said, “the growing rightward movement within the Church is not happening in a vacuum. It is part of a broader movement among people and nations everywhere.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Luciani continued. “There are more autocratic regimes in place now than there have been since the Second World War. But unlike in the twentieth century, many people today seem quite okay with autocracy. It’s a sad fact, but one we must acknowledge.”
“And so we should simply acquiesce?”
“No, your Holiness. We believe, as you do, in the reforms called for by Vatican III. We also believe that, over time, your more progressive vision for the Church will prevail. That’s why we’re recommending pressing ahead.”
Francis III sat back in his chair and sighed.
“What is Cardinal Penov’s role in all of this?”
The pope’s advisors looked at each other and said nothing.
“Your Eminence?” the pope finally said, looking at Luciani.
“Your Holiness, Cardinal Penov has maintained active communication with certain conservative cardinals around the world.”
“Is he encouraging them to oppose Vatican III?”
Again, the advisors said nothing.
The pope looked Luciani in the eye.
“Gianni?”
“Your Holiness,” he said, “Penov’s role in this movement cannot be underestimated.”
Francis III blinked, taking that in.
“Thank you for your candor,” he said to the group, “and your excellent advice. I hope I can continue to count on you.”
“Yes,” they all said.
“Thank you. I will be calling on you again soon.”
Sensing the meeting was over, the advisors got up to leave.
“Your Eminence,” the pope said to Luciani, “will you stay for a minute?”
“Of course, Your Holiness.”
When the others had gone, Francis III turned to his friend and said, “I want to meet with Penov.”
“For what purpose?”
“I want to hear the truth from him.”
“And then what, Angelo? Do you expect him to back down?”
“I don’t know. But if he is indeed organizing a movement that is tearing our Church apart, I must try.”
“Your Holiness, Penov is not the source of division within our Church. He is merely stirring the pot.”
“I know, Gianni. But after all he has done, including orchestrating the attempted assassination of two popes, it is time he stop stirring.”
Francis III summoned Penov and arranged to meet with him in a conference room in the Apostolic Palace. The pope made sure the cardinal was there before he entered the room. He wanted to remind Penov who was in charge.
“Your Holiness,” Penov said, standing up as the pope came in.
“Your Eminence, welcome.”
Francis III stepped in and stood at the end of the conference table. He wanted Penov to come to him. When Penov reached him, the pope held out his hand. Penov took it, bent down and kissed his ring. It was an old tradition Francis III didn’t normally follow. Now, though, he would make an exception.
“Sit,” he said, extending his hand.
Penov took a seat near him.
“How may I be of service, Your Holiness?”
“I will get to that in a moment. First, though, I have a question.”
“Yes, Your Holiness?”
“Is it true you have been in touch with certain cardinals around the world?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Then let me be clearer. Have you encouraged more conservative cardinals of the Church to oppose the reforms called for by Vatican III?”
Penov looked surprised.
“Your Holiness ...”
The pope leaned forward.
“Answer me.”
Penov leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap.
“Yes, I have.”
Now the pope was surprised. He was not expecting such candor from Penov.
“Why?”
“I believe the Church has veered too far left.”
“I’m sure you do believe that,” the pope said, his voice beginning to rise. “But does that give you the right to encourage, if not organize, opposition to reforms which have been thoughtfully and prayerfully called for by a Vatican Council?”
“Your Holiness, I might be retired, but I am still a cardinal in our Church. I see it as my duty to speak out against wrongs wherever I see them.”
“And you think Vatican III is wrong?”
“Yes, I do. Frankly, I think it is liberalism run amok.”
“I see. Your Eminence, let me ask you something. When you were ordained, did you take a vow of obedience?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, I am giving you an order. From now on, you are to have no contact with any cardinal, archbishop or bishop of the Church.”
“No contact?”
“None at all, directly or indirectly.”
“Your Holiness, with respect, that seems extreme.”
“Is it any more extreme than attempting to assassinate a pope?”
Penov looked away.
“And what if I choose to disobey this order?”
“Then you will be excommunicated.”
“I see,” Penov said, his face now red. “Well, Your Holiness, that will not be necessary. I will have no other contact with any of my peers.”
“Or archbishops or bishops.”
“Or archbishops or bishops.”
After an awkward silence, Penov said, “Will there be anything else, Your Holiness?”
“No, Your Eminence. But know that, should you disobey my order, I will find out.”
“I understand,” Penov said, looking chastened.
Naturally, word got out about Francis III’s meeting with Penov. Just as the pope had expected, reprimanding Penov led those on the far right to take an even harder line against Vatican III.
Some began to vilify Francis III too. Many called him a leftist and a bleeding-heart liberal. Some even called him the anti-Christ.
But the pope didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing further progress in rolling out the reforms of Vatican III.
When his working group recommended allowing gays and lesbians to join the Church and sanctioning same-sex marriage, Francis III waited a few weeks, then issued an encyclical entitled “Una Familia” or One Family. In it, he cited Jesus’ acts of compassion toward the marginalized of his day.
“Jesus is our role model,” the encyclical stated. “He was inclusive. We, his disciples, must be inclusive too.”
This set The Right Way on its ear. But when Francis III then ruled to officially welcome homosexuals into the Church and expand the sacrament of matrimony to include same-sex couples, the ultraconservative movement to split from the Church went into overdrive.
The pope shuddered at the idea of a schism. But he continued to believe in the reforms of Vatican III, and he had full faith that, as a more progressive Church took shape, people would join in the work to bring Jesus’ teachings to life.
“We must get back to our original purpose,” he said. “The Church must be renewed.”
But in the coming months and years, the division within the Church became more pronounced. The Right Way even created an organization whose sole purpose was to form a new church.
Francis III did all he could to prevent a split, including traveling to meet conservative Church leaders and members on their turf. While most of them appreciated this outreach, the hardliners dug in all the more.
Then Francis III, whose health had always seemed so robust, fell ill. He tired easily now and began to lose weight. Some had seen him wince in pain.
He went to a hospital for tests, which revealed he had late-stage pancreatic cancer. His doctors gave him months to live. He declined treatment.
Then, almost overnight, the calls for a new church went silent.
At first, the pope was encouraged. Maybe, he thought, the outpouring of sympathy for him would lead to more support for Vatican III.
But then he realized his adversaries had gone quiet because they knew they might finally be able to elect a like-minded pope. There would be no need for a schism now. Under the right leader, they could slow-walk Vatican III and bring back “real Catholicism.”
Francis III wanted to reach out to those cardinals who would soon be forming a new conclave with a plea that they elect a pope who would continue to reform the Church. But he knew that would only interfere and probably not change many minds anyway.
So in his remaining time, the pope chose to personally show the way. Though weak, he fed people in soup kitchens and visited people in homeless shelters, hospitals and prisons throughout Rome. He talked with people in the streets, met them where they were. He gave money to beggars.
Cardinal Luciani was chosen to preside over Francis III’s funeral Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica. It was packed with religious leaders and dignitaries from around the world.
“He was on a path to be a banker,” Luciani said in his homily. “Instead, Angelo Salzano listened to a poor man and became a man of God.”
Then he turned and faced the section of the church where his fellow cardinals were seated, a sea of red.
“May we continue to take inspiration from a poor man too,” he said. “For we are, as he told us, the light of the world.”
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