Latest News

If a papal election resembled an ordinary campaign, Sunday in Rome would have vibrated with the high-wire intensity of the final hours of the Iowa caucus, when candidates sprint from cornfield to cornfield and beg for votes. Most of the 115 cardinals who will elect the new pope — and who themselves form the pool of papal candidates — scattered out to Roman Catholic churches in Rome to offer Lenten homilies for the equivalent of last-minute campaign appearances.

But with two days before the papal conclave begins, the cardinals instead carefully adhered to what might be called the art of running for pope, which means never, ever appearing to be running. And that left everyone who is trying to game the race — the estimated 5,000 journalists now in Rome, along with much of the Catholic world — with little to do but interpret gestures and to measure papal intangibles:

Did the Brazilian, Odilo Pedro Scherer, archbishop of São Paulo, exude a papal benevolence in the gentle way he touched the cheeks of the elderly couple that unexpectedly sought an anniversary blessing? Did the quiet grace of Angelo Scola, archbishop of Milan, bespeak a papal dignity? Or what about the Hungarian, Peter Erdo, archbishop of Esztergom- Budapest? True, he did not smile much, if at all, but might his steely discipline and intelligence offer what is needed for a Vatican in disarray?

"It is an odd little scene, the Sunday before a conclave," said John Thavis, a longtime papal chronicler and the author of "The Vatican Diaries," a look behind the scenes of the church. "They are going to be very careful not to say anything that appears to be campaigning."

No one can really say which of the cardinals has the best chance of becoming pope. For the past week, they have been meeting daily, sizing each other up, even as the public has known almost nothing about the deliberations because the cardinals have taken an oath of secrecy. Beginning Tuesday afternoon, they will enter the Sistine Chapel for the secret voting to elect a pope, so Sunday was their final day of mixing with ordinary parishioners.

Rome is the center of the Catholic world, and almost every cardinal is assigned his own titular church. They usually visit the church when passing through Rome, help out with fund-raising and often develop a personal rapport with local priests and parishioners, some of whom were not quite as restrained with their opinions on who should be the next pope.

At Santa Maria della Vittoria, a church in central Rome best known for housing Gian Lorenzo Bernini's baroque masterpiece "Saint Teresa in Ecstasy," the rector, Father Stefano Guernelli, did not hesitate to stump for his assigned cardinal, Sean Patrick O'Malley of Boston. He introduced Cardinal O'Malley as a papal contender and implored him to reconsider his publicly expressed reservations about taking the job.

Taking the lectern, Cardinal O'Malley played down the introduction. "I promise you I'll return to this church after the conclave as a cardinal," he said. Then, alluding to Bernini's famed sculpture, he added with a smile: "But maybe I'll bring St. Teresa to Boston."

This is the fourth Sunday of Lent and many of the cardinals offered homilies on the theme of reconciliation, alluding to the day's Gospel reading about the return of the prodigal son. They wore purple Lenten vestments and, in several cases, were greeted by crowds of television crews and other journalists, especially those cardinals considered leading candidates.

At the Basilica of the Twelve Holy Apostles in downtown Rome, Cardinal Angelo Scola, the archbishop of Milan, had initially ducked dozens of journalists by entering through a garage on a side street. He left the same way after the Mass but not before briefly emerging from the sacristy to face a pack of photographers and videographers. "I was told I should bless you," he said, and he did so, before disappearing back into the church.

Cardinal Scola, an intellectual known to cite writers from Shakespeare to Jack Kerouac, on Sunday quoted the French poet Charles Peguy. The online betting site, Paddy Power, has Cardinal Scola as the papal favorite, but he offered nothing in the way of a campaign speech other than a broad wish for a good pope.

"Let us pray that the Holy Spirit offers its church the man who can guide it in the footsteps marked by the great popes of the last 150 years," he said.

Another presumed front-runner, Cardinal Scherer, the Brazilian, arrived at Sant' Andrea al Quirinale, a church near Italy's presidential palace, in a black sedan with tinted windows. The cardinal has probably never had a more scrutinized homily in his life as a priest: a video camera recorded his talk from 15 feet away, while a television reporter did a stand-up near the altar as Cardinal Scherer distributed communion to worshipers.

Carmine and Maria Persichetti were greeted with applause when they came forward for a blessing on their 70th anniversary. Cardinal Scherer caressed their faces and offered a pastoral touch.

"Seventy years?" he asked in excellent Italian. "I wasn't born yet. Is it really possible?"

Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan of New York turned his appearance at a neighborhood church in Rome into almost a celebrity visit: He kissed babies, hugged worshipers and worked the pews like a rope line. He offered no clues as to whom he would support as the new pope — "Boy, it's good to see you all!" he boomed when asked a probing question by a reporter — and thanked local worshipers for giving him a big basket of Italian biscuits, cookies, tuna and chickpeas.

"Maybe I can take a small candy bar into the conclave," he said. "I hear that the food is not good."

Cardinal Erdo of Hungary, seen as a strong dark horse candidate, appeared at Santa Balbina, a small fourth-century church where most of the parishioners were expatriate Hungarians living in Rome. He did nothing to contradict his reputation as a brilliant, intensely serious canonical lawyer; he did not appear to smile once during a service in which he delivered the homily in Hungarian and nearly flawless Italian.

"I think he is the most suited for the job," said Joszef Rabi, a Hungarian doctor who has lived in Rome since 1956. "The church is falling apart and needs someone to bring order to it."

He added: "All that is missing is the smile."

By the end of the day, it appeared that none of the cardinals had violated their oath to keep secret their deliberations in advance of the conclave. Teasingly playing on the code of secrecy, Father Guernelli, the warm Carmelite rooting for Cardinal O'Malley, told the faithful at his church that the cardinal would be leaving out of a "secret" side door.

Remember, he joked, alluding to Dan Brown's "Angels and Demons," a best-selling mystery novel that was also made into a movie, "a cardinal was killed in this church, so we know how to act in these situations!"