In Rome, amid the solemn and prayerful atmosphere preceding a conclave, Archbishop Cristobal Lopez of Rabat shares his experience. Of Spanish origin and representing the Church of the Maghreb, he is living through these particular days of preparing to designate the successor of Peter for the first time. He says with humility:
"I am a novice," while confiding the spiritual importance of these moments of shared prayer and discernment.
What deeply moved him upon his arrival was the recollection before the body of Pope Francis in St. Peter's Basilica. A moment of grace, filled with emotion, which he describes as a "spiritual shock," as the late pope represented for him a father, a brother, a friend. The bond was personal, but also rooted in a striking memory: Pope Francis's visit to Morocco in 2019.
Although brief—barely more than a day—this visit was decisive for the local Church. First, it confirmed the faithful in their faith, reassuring them of their mission. Secondly, it profoundly strengthened Islamic-Christian dialogue, giving new legitimacy to an already initiated approach but now carried forward by the example of the Supreme Pontiff himself. By visiting charitable works, such as the Daughters of Charity or Caritas, Francis highlighted this Samaritan Church, humble and close to the most needy. A Church in communion, rooted in diversity—this is the pastoral line that the Archdiocese of Rabat still pursues today.
The loss of Pope Francis, even if it seemed anticipated, has left a real void. No sooner had he learned the news than Archbishop Lopez was already on a plane to Rome. He was therefore unable to fully witness the reaction of the Moroccan people, but the messages he received speak volumes: Muslims and Christians expressed the same sorrow, the same sense of orphanhood. The King of Morocco himself, as well as numerous local authorities, praised the work of Francis, particularly for his role in bringing religions closer together.
In the Muslim world in general, the pontificate of Francis has left visible traces. Through his sincere interest in this world, he sparked a genuine momentum of collaboration between Christians and Muslims. Dialogue is no longer a pious wish; it is underway in many countries. The Archbishop of Rabat summarizes it thus:
"If Christians and Muslims represent nearly half of humanity, it is evident that we are called to work together to build this world according to God's design."
Archbishop Lopez approaches this conclave with a great sense of responsibility. He insists: the Church must not be reduced to belonging to one pope or another. "We are not of Francis, nor of Benedict, nor of John Paul II; we are of Christ," he firmly states. And if he intends to defend the legacy left by Francis, it is not out of human attachment but because he sees in it a profound fidelity to the Gospel: synodality, mission, the refusal of ecclesiastical self-celebration.
He clearly rejects caricatures of tradition. For him, true Christian tradition is not a return to the 19th century, but a living fidelity to the spirit of the first centuries, to that early Church united in faith despite trials. It is to this source that we must return.
As for the preparatory meetings before entering the conclave, they have not yet addressed essential questions, but a will is emerging: that of adopting a more synodal method, in small groups, in a climate of prayer and discernment. This mode of operation would allow all the cardinals, coming from very different horizons, to get to know each other better and to build true unity, without erasing differences. "The universality of the Church is beautiful, but it requires time, listening, and a will for communion," acknowledges Archbishop Lopez.
Thus, at the heart of this cultural and geographical diversity willed and encouraged by Francis, there remains only one center: Christ. This is what the Archbishop of Rabat wishes to carry into this crucial moment for the Church.