OSV News photo/Yara Nardi, Reuters

I was with friends in a cabin in the mountains of North Georgia, looking forward to a relaxing Easter Monday when my phone exploded. Pope Francis had died. I would be heading back to Rome the next evening. 

Father Gaurav Shroff is pictured in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican. The Atlanta priest is currently assigned to the Dicastery for the Clergy. He is the former pastor of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church in Carrollton and also served as a campus minister.

Last year, to my utter shock and surprise, I was asked to serve as an Official in the Dicastery for the Clergy in the Vatican and moved to Rome in August. I recall being told, “chances are you’ll be there for a conclave.” I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. The Holy Father had been so full of life and strength, until his last illness, and he was recuperating and showed up to bless the whole world at Easter. What a witness!  

That Saturday, I joined the vast crowd that filled St. Peter’s Square and every alley and street around the Vatican, as by the hundreds of thousands, the faithful came out to pray for the late pontiff. I had gone a few times to pay respects in front of his casket, lying in state inside the Basilica. There had been a powerful and moving atmosphere of hushed calm and reverence. 

For the funeral Mass, I was, with other members of the Roman Curia, right at the base of the platform. We could see world leaders on one side, and ranks of cardinals, bishops and ecumenical visitors on the other. There was a sense of expectant hope, as, even in the midst of sadness, the Dean of the College of Cardinals recalled the pope’s life of service. After the Mass, we marveled at the meeting between Presidents Trump and Zelensky, noting that Pope Francis would no doubt be pleased that his funeral was an occasion to advance peace.  

Over the next week, work at the office went on, though, a lot of things would need to wait for the pope and the reappointment of prefects of the various departments of the Curia, since most of them lose their office when the Holy See falls vacant.  

The Dicastery for the Clergy oversees the formation, ongoing formation and the discipline of the clergy (priests and deacons). As a canon lawyer, I work in the discipline section, that deals with among other matters, requests by clergy to leave ministry (laicization), cases of misconduct, recourses (when you hear that parishioners are appealing their bishop’s decision to close their parish church to the Vatican, that comes to the Dicastery for the Clergy.) and the supervision of clerical ministry and parish life. It is quite different from being a parish priest, or a campus minister, in west Georgia (my last assignment).  

The offices are at the top of the Via della Concilazione, the wide street leading up to St. Peter’s, and there is a clear view of the Basilica (and the Sistine Chapel) from some rooms. A great vantage point for the conclave.  

As the mourning period of the Novemdiales continued, the media descended on the Vatican (setting up a giant scaffold and platforms right outside our offices). Everywhere, in cafes, at restaurants, I was asked, “who will it be?” The Italian media especially engaged in the wildest kinds of rumormongering and gossip. 

I found myself trying to focus on our sacred duty, as the faithful: prayer. For Pope Francis. For the cardinals. I attended one of the Novemdiales Masses in St. Peter’s and offered many Masses myself for the repose of our beloved Papa Francisco.

On the morning of May 7, the day the conclave began, I attended the Mass for the Election of the Roman Pontiff, where the nonagenarian Cardinal Re, belying his age, gave a stirring and energetic exhortation to the electors to choose a Pope who would “awaken the consciences of all” in a society that “tends to forget God.”  As the cardinals (who were the only concelebrants) called down the Holy Spirit in the ancient prayer of the Mass, all present knelt, in one swift and smooth motion, and the divine Victim was offered again to the Father and the great gift of the Eucharist was confected, for the salvation of the world. With the whole church, I prayed for that same Holy Spirit to stir the hearts of the electors to give us the pontiff we need for our times.  

This bird’s-eye view of smoke from the Sistine Chapel and the scene of celebration in St. Pter’s Square was taken by Father Gaurav Shroff of Atlanta from a conference room at his dicastery office May 8.

Remembering May 8 

What. A. Day!  

Even as it nears midnight, my heart is full.  

Just before 6 p.m., a roar from the crowd went up and we all rushed to the conference room which opens out onto St. Peter’s Square. “Fumata bianca” my colleagues yelled in the corridors. “White smoke!” The chimney gushed; the crowd thundered; the seagulls looked up in astonishment and took flight. We were shouting and clapping so much that the journalists on their giant scaffold in front of the window turned around.  

Everyone was smiling and laughing.  

Over the next hour, bands from the Swiss Guard, the Vatican Gendarmeria and the Italian Carabinieri marched up to their spots underneath the loggia. Anthems played. Flags waved and everybody took photos and videos with the golden rays of the lowering sun bathing the Basilica and the piazza in a warm, suffused light.  

Another roar as the Cardinal Proto-Deacon appeared and in clear, crisp, Latin pronounced the ancient words. Habemus Papam! It was electric.  

As soon as the words “Emininentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Robertum Franciscum” were said, I whispered, “Prevost.” And then, “sibi imposuit nomen Leonem Decimum Quartum,” to loud roars from the crowd, and us in that conference room. Leo XIV! It was only a minute later that I realized. “Oh goodness. He’s American!” Those around me said, “Auguri Don Gaurav!” Congratulations. 

The white papal bunting was unfurled over the loggia and a few minutes later the Holy Father appeared, in mozetta and blessing stole, with a broad smile, as the piazza erupted again and again. “Leone, Leone!”  

His first words hit me in the chest like a thunderclap. Pax vobiscum! Peace! I had been texting my family in India, where, effectively, war has broken out in seems. That word, pax, was so consoling in that moment, as if addressed to me by the Lord. The words of the Risen Lord Himself, as the pope reminded us. After words in honor of his predecessor, and addressing the people of Rome, whose bishop he had just become, and a quote from St. Augustine, Pope Leo spoke in flawless Spanish, to his people back in Peru. My heart cheered. He was so genuinely a pastor. 

Yes, he is American (really? Did that actually happen?). But Peru–and all of Latin America–can also claim him. And more than that, he is the pope, our Papa, and therefore, he belongs to us all. Because in that moment, the unity and universality of the Catholic Church were so palpably visible. This is what heaven must be like, with that vast crowd, without number, from every race and tribe and nation, jubilant, surrounding the Throne of the Lamb. My heart sang.  

Then the plenary indulgence and the apostolic blessing and rounds and rounds of raucous cheers. Leone! Leone! Leone! Habemus Papam! We have a Pope, the Vicar of Christ, Successor of Peter, Servant of the Servants of God and Supreme Pontiff–Pontifex, bridge builder.  

My phone was exploding, already with folks wanting my take, or sharing something they saw online. My response: no reading tea leaves, no speculating. Rejoice! What a time to be Catholic. We have a Pope.  

Later, I wandered around the piazza, still on a high, in a bit of a daze, with a seminarian friend, bumping into so many friends and acquaintances. There was a festive and jubilant atmosphere. Back at the house, the other residents (mainly American priests working in the Curia) were in the dining room. A celebratory mood prevailed. A bottle of prosecco was opened, and we toasted our new Papa. And tomorrow, the words, “pro Papa et episcopo nostro, Leone,” will roll right off the tongue at Mass.  

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Pray for Pope Leo XIV.