By Dennis Michael Mulloy

After a long, momentous, and controversial papal administration, the cardinals who will gather in Rome next week will find themselves at a turning point in the troubled and problematic history of the Catholic Church. Should they strive to recapture the enthusiasm for change which marked the years of the Second Vatican Council and the pontificate of Pope John XXIII? Or should they continue the attempts at stern and uncompromising legalism which have marked the last two papacies? Or should they try to compromise somehow between the two styles of governance?

Already a powerful, worldwide alliance of Catholic business leaders calling itself Save Our Church is gathering in Rome to use its wealth and power to influence the outcome of the election. Its organizer, American industrialist Timothy Ignatius ("Ty") Williams, was candid with The New York Times about its goals. "We don't intend to let liberal cardinals like Cronin turn the Church over to socialists, sodomites and secularists." The combination of Mr. Williams' organization and the right-wing Corpus Christi Institute will bring vast financial resources to bear on the outcome of the conclave.

Sean Cardinal Cronin of Chicago was unavailable for comment, but a close associate said, "As I remember his previous ventures into politics, Ty couldn't lead a pack of hungry vampires to a blood bank."

Cardinals tend to be conservative men, though occasionally the Vatican does make a mistake: No one claims papal infallibility applies to such appointments. The electors will be very nervous about any appearance of abrupt change in the Church. On the other hand, they cannot be unaware of the restlessness and dissatisfaction not only among the Catholic laity but among many if not most of the Catholic clergy. They may wonder if the attempts of the last couple of decades to restore unity to the Church have been counterproductive. The most perceptive of them know that many millions of Catholics feel alienated from the Church. The wise may feel that if there is not a drastic change, tens of millions more may be lost, if not to the Catholic heritage, then at least to the institutional Church.

A few of them may even know the wisdom expressed in Giuseppe Di Lampedusa's novel The Leopard (Il Gattopardo), namely: We must change in order to remain the same.

The outcome of the age-old and dramatic ritual of the papal conclave, which will end with the traditional white smoke announcing a new pope, is likely to have a powerful impact on Catholicism for decades to come. For weal or woe.

MULLOY, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH," MY EDITOR had exploded in exasperation. "This is the story of the century! How often does the Catholic Church elect a new pope, a couple of times every hundred years?"

He had waved my analysis from the morning's paper at me.

"Eight or nine, anyway," I had said. "No big deal."

As I recalled the conversation yesterday in New York, the Alitalia jet was vectoring over Rome. I caught a brief glimpse of the sun-baked Tiber and the glittering dome of St. Peter's.

"There are a billion Catholics in the world. This may be the most important election in the history of the papacy. The future of the Catholic Church will depend on the outcome. For the next two weeks the eyes of the whole human race will be on Rome. Every important journalist in the world will be there. And you want to sit here in New York and feel sorry for yourself."

Low blow, that last line. Not like him or like the paper.

I had thought that CNN would probably send its ace Catholic anchor-person to Rome. All the more reason for not going.

"They claim that every time there's a conclave," I had responded. "Like I say, no big deal."

I knew I had lost the argument. The personal jab meant he was seriously impatient with me. I had better pack.

I admit that I felt a catch in my throat at the sight of St. Peter's. Actually, this was a very big deal. The oldest human institution in the world was about to roll the dice again on its future in an ancient and solemn ritual. Or, if one wishes, an archaic and stupid ritual (words I had cut from my brief and last-minute "analysis" piece because I knew they'd never get by the boss).

My editor was wrong about one thing, however. The Church of Rome, for all its enormous faults, had survived a couple of hundred appearances of white smoke. Its future was not in jeopardy.

Well, it had survived so far. Now, however, it was split wide open, with the late pope and the bishops seemingly on one side and most of the laypeople and the priests of the world on the other side.

Maybe this conclave was indeed a very big deal.

Despite myself and despite the damage that air travel does to my organism, my heart was beating faster. Maybe, like my editor had said, this would be the most exciting story I had ever covered.

"Even more than Rwanda?" I had demanded.

"Absolutely!"

"No way," I had replied as I listlessly rose from my chair. "Nothing more than the Democratic convention. Or maybe even the Republican convention."

"Dinny!" he had shouted at me. "Cut the bullshit! You're dying to go!"

"All right, I'll go home and pack."

The Alitalia pilot came on the plane's PA system.

"Because of the gathering for the papal election," he said solemnly, "security will be especially tight at the Leonardo da Vinci airport this morning. There may be some delays in clearing immigration and customs."

Why the special security?

Hell, they'd already tried to assassinate one pope. Why not a new one?

I glanced out the window. Not a speck of cloud in the sky. Yet there was a storm gathering. My heart began to pound, just like it always did when I'm getting involved in an important and dangerous story.

A very big deal, indeed, so much so that I felt stirrings of enthusiasm -- until the plane taxied into the jetway and I had to shove myself into a standing position. Then the full weight of motion sickness, jet lag, and dehydration hit me.

All I wanted to do was find a bed somewhere and sleep for a couple of days. I wanted a drink too, but that was no longer a possibility in my life.

There were rumors that this time the white smoke might be a prelude to the announcement of the election of the first American pope. Our own paper had mentioned Chicago's Sean Cardinal Cronin as a possibility. Judging by his picture, he looked like a pope ought to look -- a handsome, faintly dissipated, early Renaissance pope, with the political moves of the South Side Irish, like the various mayors Daley.

"Good morning, Mr. Mulloy." A pretty child, clipboard in her left hand, extended her right hand to me as I staggered into the international concourse. "Welcome to the Leonardo da Vinci airport at Fiumicino. Welcome also to Rome. Welcome finally to the pope's funeral mass tomorrow. I am from the Rome bureau and have been assigned to assist you in your coverage of the papal election. I am Paola Elizabetta Maria Angelica Katarina Brigitta Oriani. You may call me Paoli."

She pronounced the name as though it were Pa-OW-li. A cute kid, very cute, as a matter of fact. Even cuter because she was so solemn and serious. And maybe a little shy in the presence of the silver-haired Pulitzer prize winner. Only a few years older than my daughter.

I struggled to respond with my very best genial, shanty-Irish grin.

"Not 'Signorina'?" I said, shaking hands with her, my grip a lot firmer than my character.

She was wearing a businesslike blue suit, with white at the neck and the cuffs, a skirt just below mid-thigh, a gold cross at her neck, gold studs, but no other jewelry. There was but a slight hint of makeup on her lips and she wore sensible pumps. Her scent was discreet and expensive. Successful Roman businessperson with a face from Fra Angelico framed by a halo of tight black curls. She tilted her chin up and favored me with a slight hint of a smile.

"Only if you wish to be very formal."

"They told you at the bureau that I was a very formal person, didn't they?"

"They told me that you were very funny, do not engage in sexual harassment, do not drink anymore, are kind of cute in an elderly way, and write like an angel...now, if you follow me we will take you through customs."