We need a moral voice that transcends borders — that's what the conclave gives us

It is not often that reality imitates art quite so promptly. Just a month or two after most of us first watched Ralph Fiennes in Conclave, we have a chance to see the real thing. Pope Francis died on Easter Monday, and yesterday in the Sistine Chapel the actual conclave gathered - the meeting of the cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church (or rather all those under 80) to elect a successor over the coming days.

- BY DR ROWAN WILLIAMS

And as with so many "real things" these days, we are watching through the lens provided by a dramatic fiction. Even the most seasoned Vatican commentator will be tempted to ask who in the real conclave corresponds to Stanley Tucci or Lucian Msamati.

The film appealed to the fascination we always feel with the lives of tight-knit communities that seem to be sealed off from life experienced elsewhere. Countless headlines repeat that the process of electing the Pope is "secretive" - an irresistible lure carrying the hint of "They don't want you to know about this" that skilful journalists deploy to keep you reading.

In fact, the process is not notably more secretive than any realistically confidential selection mechanism. The more theatrical aspects — the locked doors and news blackout, the solemn oaths of confidentiality taken by staff looking after the cardinals and so on — come from an era when papal elections were a matter in which European rulers took an active (and unhealthy) interest. Up to the beginning of the 20th century, the Austro-Hungarian Emperor could veto a candidate. The secrecy was a strong bid for the Church to be allowed to set its own agenda and not be co-opted into the geopolitical intrigues of the day.

History makes plain that this was not exactly an unqualified success. But the aim was and is a serious one. And understanding why this is may help us understand the conclave as more than just a costume drama.

Going beyond politics