Conclave of Seedlings
Today, the conclave began in Vatican City, where sequestered cardinals will choose a new pope. It’s very exciting, especially if you’re Catholic, a politician, or a historian. I was fourteen when John Paul I became Pope. I was taking catechism classes, preparing for confirmation. “He’s a good choice,” our youth pastor told us. “For the last 400 years, all popes were born in Italy.”
And then John Paul I died 33 days later. It was a shock, replaced with an even bigger shock when John Paul II was chosen. “A Polish pope? How did this happen?” our parents and priests asked at church. It was a rhetorical question, of course, as teenagers were not allowed or expected to have opinions at the time. So, I kept my mouth shut.
This morning, cardinals from seventy countries convened to elect the new head of the Roman Catholic Church, while 45,000 people gathered in Saint Peter’s Square to watch for the tell-tale black smoke rising from the chimney atop the Sistine Chapel, announcing a new pope has been elected. If recent history is any indication, the process could take several days.
I listened to the news coming from Vatican City this morning while watering flowers and tomato plants and checking on the pepper and watermelon seeds I planted last week. For some reason, the first planting didn’t go well. Every morning, I go outside expecting to see the spines of seedlings poking through the soil, and except for the squash and cucumber sprigs that can’t help but make a grand entrance despite everything nature throws at them, not much was happening. That was until today. A single red pepper seed had burst forth with life, its green arms reaching towards heaven—such a simple thing: a seedling popping up through the soil. But in the grand scheme of things, it isn’t simple at all. Sciences like biology and spermology (yes, that’s what it’s called) would have us believe that processes and agents are necessary for seed development. Fertilizers, cover crops, and genetic engineering help produce higher yields, expand the shelf life of fruits and vegetables, and even deliver food that tastes better than what we ate as kids. But I prefer to take a step back. Instead, I see Mother Nature in the soil, the sun, and the rain required to help my seedling on its journey. I see God as the breath of life that transforms the seed into a pepper plant that will soon be adorned with sweet, ruby-red peppers—the garden’s showstoppers.
Today, there is much pomp and circumstance in Vatican City. Hordes of people are craning their necks to gaze upon somber men, the elite among us, in their scarlet robes and ecclesiastical rings. Such grandeur for us to behold. News outlets from across the globe are commenting on everything from what street vendors are selling to the historical significance of the conclave. There is speculation in the air and spectacles on the ground. Anticipation runs through the crowd like an electrical current. Oh, to be there!
But I believe the next pope is already here, a blessing sent to nourish us like the pepper seed that chose today of all days to sprout. A man or woman, it doesn’t matter, who walks among us spreading hope: A person collecting food for a local soup kitchen or an after-school program. A grandparent babysitting grandchildren after working a double shift. A coach giving up weekends to cart kids to games. A teacher spending money out of pocket for classroom supplies. A nurse holding a patient’s hand after clocking out. A clergy person making a house call in the middle of the night to administer last rites. Their open arms reach towards heaven, praying for food on the table, energy and rest after a long day, gas in the tank, extra notebooks, and grace. And somehow it all works out. And isn’t that the miracle? The one God quietly bestows on us when no one is watching.
Today, I pray for the delicate seedlings to reach their intended purpose and for the conclave to honor the teachings of Jesus when selecting a new pope, a man who never wore a scarlet robe.
