Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, people of faith here in the Diocese of Birmingham and visitors and guests, today is not just another day in the life of the Church. Today is a Pentecost moment—a time when the whole people of God are called to lift their hearts in prayer, as our cardinals have entered conclave. These men, successors to the apostles, are gathered under the great fresco of the Michaelangelo’s Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel—not to elect the most popular successor of Peter, not to elect a celebrity, not to choose a suave politician, but to discern a shepherd, one who will walk in the shoes of the fisherman and join the ranks of those who have truly offered their all for the cause of Christ.

And just as in the days of the early Church, this moment is marked not by ease, but by urgency.

In our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 8:1b–8), we hear of the Church under persecution, scattered and wounded. Yet what happens? Philip goes down to Samaria and preaches Christ, and the people listen. The Gospel spreads. The Spirit moves. And what does Luke tell us? “There was great joy in that city.”

That is what we must pray for now: that joy would once again flood the Church and flood the world because a man filled with the Holy Spirit, a man who preaches Jesus Christ with boldness and mercy, will soon be called to sit on the Chair of Peter as the 267th pope.

He will not sit there in comfort. No, he will suffer. He will be misunderstood. He will be criticized by some of the faithful and opposed by the world. But like Philip, he must go forward undeterred, proclaiming Christ to every Samaria of our age—across divisions, prejudices, wounds, and fear. The new pope must be a man of hope, not merely fluent in doctrine, but fluent in the art of love—a man of the Resurrection and who convincingly lives the resurrection without fear or hesitation.

Psalm 66 cries out: “Come and see the works of God, His tremendous deeds among the children of Adam!” We do long to see such works again. We long for healing in the Church. We long for clarity, for unity, for holiness, but above all, we long to be fed—to be nourished by the Bread that does not perish.

That’s why the Gospel today is so vital. “I am the bread of life,” Jesus says. “Whoever comes to me will never hunger.” (John 6:35)

The new Holy Father must be one who leads us, again and again, to that Bread—not with mere gestures, but with conviction. We do not need one who points us back to nostalgia or forward to novelty. We need a shepherd who points us to Christ, the Bread of Life, the One Who came down from Heaven so that we may live forever.

He must be a man who can heal wounds: who can teach minds, who can open Scripture, who can kneel with the suffering, who can suffer with the misunderstood, and most of all, who can lead with joy.

Conclusion

And so, people of God, as we wait for the white smoke from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel and hear those beautiful words: “Habemus Papam,” the Church also looks not to Rome, but to you and me: to our prayer, to our fasting, to our invocation of the Spirit received at confirmation.

With believers everywhere, we cry out with hearts full of longing: “Come, Holy Spirit.” Come with Your sevenfold gifts—wisdom for discernment, courage for truth, piety for prayer. Fill the Sistine Chapel with Your presence as Your Spirit filled the Upper Room on Pentecost. Move the hearts of the cardinals. Raise up a man who walks in Peter’s sandals, the shoes of the fisherman, but kneels in Christ’s shadow.

May the whole Church—from cloisters to chapels, churches and cathedrals, from the valleys of Alabama to the hills of Galilee—pray with one voice:

“Come, Holy Spirit. Kindle in us the fire of Your love. Send forth Your Spirit, and we shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth. Amen.