“They’re envious.”
“But determined,” said Donati. “They handed me the papacy in a moment of crisis. And now they are doing everything in their power to make certain I stay in line. If I speak warmly about members of the gay and lesbian community, they scream heresy. If I suggest that divorced Catholics be allowed to receive the sacrament of the Eucharist, they accuse me of apostasy. And if I even dare mention the wordwomen, well, it’s as if the heavens have fallen.”
“You’re not actually thinking—”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” interjected Donati. “The Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women. It is doctrinally off the table.”
“Rome has spoken, the case is closed?”
“Now and forever.”
“What about celibacy and married priests?”
“All I’ll say on the matter is that our current situation is unsustainable. At last count there were more than fifty thousand parishes globally without a priest. Thousands more have a part-time priest or an immigrant priest whose command of the local language and culture is shaky at best. At the risk of sounding like His Holiness Pope Obvious, Catholicism cannot thrive without a dedicated, energetic clergy to preach the Gospels and administer the sacraments. Something has to change. But if I push too far or move too quickly, the world’s oldest institution could tear itself to pieces.”
“What’s a reformist supreme pontiff to do?”
“He moves cautiously and bides his time. After all, it is on hisside. I’m quite young by historical standards, which means, barring a sudden health crisis, I’m likely to outlive the traditionalist dinosaurs who are currently standing in my way.”
“And in the meantime?”
“The reformist supreme pontiff plays the role of a pastoral pope, a global street priest who tends to the needs of the poor and the sick. And because he has made it clear that he wants the Roman Catholic Church to be poor as well, he leads by example.”
“By confining yourself to a cell measuring fifty square meters.”
“The Vatican Press Office says it’s seventy-five.”
“The Press Office misspoke.”
“Not for the first time,” said Donati.
“Or the last, I’m afraid.”
Donati frowned. “Why did you come to Rome,mio amico?”
“I discovered the body of a young woman in the Venetian Lagoon.”
“And?”
Gabriel glanced at his wristwatch. “It seems my time has expired, Holiness.”
“Take all the time you need. But if you call me Holiness one more time, I’m going to lose my temper.”
“Forgive me, Luigi.”
“Ego te absolvo,” he replied. “Now start talking.”
10
Casa Santa Marta
When Gabriel’s briefing reached its end, Donati rose and went slowly to one of the windows. It should have been the window in the study of theappartamento pontificio, the same window where each Sunday at noon he prayed the Angelus to the multitude gathered below in St. Peter’s Square. But this was not the third floor of the Apostolic Palace, it was a humble little room in the Casa Santa Marta, and Gabriel thought his old friend had never looked so alone.
He addressed his first words to the dome of the Basilica. “Do you know what will happen after your friend General Ferrari reveals the identity of that woman?”
“In point of fact, the announcement will be made by a certain Colonel Baggio in Venice.”
“How long do we have?”
