Father Joseba Kamiruaga Mieza, CMF
The word “conclave” has long stirred curiosity and fascination, drawing the imagination into a world of tradition, mystery, and spiritual discernment cloaked in the silence of the apostolic palaces. Often, the secretive nature of papal elections invites speculation—sometimes playful, at times conspiratorial—about power struggles and ecclesiastical chess moves. Yet, at its core, the conclave remains one of the most solemn and sacred processes in the Catholic Church, marking the intersection of divine guidance and human deliberation.
As the Church prepares for the conclave on May 7, it does so in the shadow—and light—of a remarkable legacy: that of Pope Francis. Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio, his papacy has embodied what many recognise as a profound reform. But this reform is not institutional in the usual sense. It is, instead, a spiritual and pastoral renewal—one marked by a return to the radical simplicity and fraternity of the gospel, a vision deeply inspired by the saint whose name he adopted: Francis of Assisi.
The name alone was revolutionary. No pope in nearly 800 years had dared to take the name Francis. It was more than a gesture. It was a declaration. The saint from Assisi, known for casting off wealth and privilege in a dramatic public act of renunciation, had complicated relations with Church authorities of his time. To invoke him was to embrace a radical gospel commitment—one that would unsettle not just structures, but hearts.
Pope Francis’ legacy is thus not best measured in doctrinal decrees or Vatican reforms, but in gestures and choices rooted in lived gospel witness: his embrace of migrants and refugees, his insistence on a “Church of the poor and for the poor,” and his call for pastoral conversion across all levels of Church life.
… his papacy has embodied what many recognise as a profound reform. But this reform is not institutional in the usual sense. It is, instead, a spiritual and pastoral renewal—one marked by a return to the radical simplicity and fraternity of the gospel, a vision deeply inspired by the saint whose name he adopted: Francis of Assisi
These choices are not universally embraced. Some see them as needing grounding or moderation, while others believe they should be expanded and deepened. Still others resist them altogether, seeking to curtail or shelve them. But no one can deny the footprint he has left.
And now, the conclave that will elect his successor must engage with that legacy.
More than ever before, this conclave represents a truly Catholic—meaning universal—assembly. With 132 voting cardinals from 71 countries, it is the most diverse in Church history. A staggering 108 of these cardinals were appointed by Pope Francis himself. This global representation is not an accident. It reflects Francis’ vision of a Church that is not Eurocentric, but one that listens to voices from the peripheries, from cultures and peoples who have long been marginalised in the highest echelons of ecclesial governance.
Just a few decades ago, European cardinals made up more than half of the College of Cardinals. Today, they account for only about one-third. In contrast, cardinals from Africa, Asia, and Latin America have increased significantly. In many cases, these regions are now represented in the conclave for the very first time. This shift is far more than symbolic—it is structural, and it changes the dynamics of the election itself.
This change brings at least three significant consequences.
First, the geographic and cultural diversification of the college dilutes the dominance of historically influential voting blocs. Where once Italian or Central European consensus could determine outcomes, today no single group can steer the conclave alone. A broader consensus must be forged, necessitating dialogue and mutual understanding across cultures.
With such a wide range of pastoral experiences and ecclesial realities, cardinals will need to engage in authentic conversation and discernment. The process becomes less about strategic alliances and more about prayerful listening and encounter. This, in turn, opens the door to new possibilities—candidates may emerge not from prearranged camps, but from genuine inspiration and consensus
Second, this diversity introduces unpredictability. With such a wide range of pastoral experiences and ecclesial realities, cardinals will need to engage in authentic conversation and discernment. The process becomes less about strategic alliances and more about prayerful listening and encounter. This, in turn, opens the door to new possibilities—candidates may emerge not from prearranged camps, but from genuine inspiration and consensus.
Third, the sheer number of participants makes the election harder to control. Historically, papal elections involved far fewer cardinals, often with tight regional or ideological connections. With 132 electors today, representing every inhabited continent, the conclave is a mosaic of perspectives and experiences. The larger the assembly, the less predictable—and more Spirit-led—the outcome becomes.
Some have suggested that Pope Francis deliberately expanded the college beyond the traditionally accepted maximum of 120 electors as a way to influence the election of his successor. But this perspective risks reducing his pastoral vision to a political strategy. In truth, what Pope Francis has done is lay the foundation for a freer, more representative Church—one that reflects the true diversity of God’s people.
His appointments were not merely about numbers, but about voices—giving a platform to those who have long gone unheard in the Church’s highest circles. These cardinals, coming from often overlooked dioceses, bring fresh perspectives shaped by lived challenges: war, poverty, climate crisis, forced migration, and interreligious dialogue.
…we can say that Pope Francis has not only transformed the present Church—he has also reshaped its future. By planting seeds of inclusion, simplicity, and gospel fidelity, he has expanded the soil from which the next pontiff may arise. The terrain is now wider, richer, and more open to grace
And so, the conclave that lies ahead will be unlike any that preceded it. It is not simply a matter of electing a new bishop of Rome. It is an opportunity for the Church to pause and ask: What kind of shepherd do we need now? How should we engage the modern world without compromising the gospel? And how do we continue the journey toward a more synodal, missionary, and compassionate Church?
This conclave is not the conclusion of Francis’ reform—it is its testing ground. The conclave will not canonise his legacy, nor will it erase it. Rather, it will wrestle with it, absorb it, and ultimately decide how to carry it forward. That decision, though shaped by human voices, will be made in the trust of the Holy Spirit.
In this light, we can say that Pope Francis has not only transformed the present Church—he has also reshaped its future. By planting seeds of inclusion, simplicity, and gospel fidelity, he has expanded the soil from which the next pontiff may arise. The terrain is now wider, richer, and more open to grace.
His legacy is not one of control, but of possibility. Not of strategy, but of discernment. And that may be his greatest gift to the Church: the freedom to listen more closely, to love more radically, and to walk more faithfully in the footsteps of Christ.
