O n May 8, I stood on the colonnades of St. Peter’s Square on the beautiful afternoon a new pope was elected, shoulder to shoulder with pilgrims from every corner of the globe. The roar that erupted when white smoke billowed from the Sistine Chapel chimney is something I’ll never forget. The earth beneath my feet shook as the bells of the ancient basilica tolled. And then the announcement: the unknown Robert Francis Prevost had been elected the vicar of Jesus Christ. Silence—everywhere. “Who?”