Cardinals Eijk and Sarah provoking serious thought amomg Cardinals

While the Italians are agitated and the Spanish are conspicuous by their absence, two voices resonate strongly in the Synod Hall: those of the Dutchman Willem Eijk and that of the African Robert Sarah. The general tone among the cardinals is surprisingly serene.

Monday was an important day in this pre-conclave, which is slowly but intensely taking shape. And not because of maneuvers, leaks, or bloc movements, but because of what should count most: the content of the interventions. And among all those heard at yesterday's General Congregation, two clearly stood out for their depth, clarity, and welcome: those of Cardinal Willem Eijk and Cardinal Robert Sarah.

Eijk, Archbishop of Utrecht, spoke with his characteristic sobriety, but also with a doctrinal force that left no one indifferent. A clear diagnosis, without drama: a disoriented Church in Europe, without moral or liturgical direction, a victim of its own internal confusion rather than external threats. What was most striking was his tone: neither defeatist nor alarmist, but deeply realistic. Many came away commenting that Eijk had spoken out loud what most people are silently thinking.

Sarah, for his part, did not disappoint. His speech was, according to several sources, one of the most applauded of the day. He spoke firmly, serenely, with that style of his that blends an African vigor restrained by monastic spirituality. He didn't engage in politics, he didn't name-drop, he didn't seek notoriety: he simply reminded everyone that the current crisis will only be overcome with a return to God, to silence, to worship, to truth. Big words, which, however, didn't sound grandiloquent but sounded necessary.

While these two voices rose with authority, the rest of the picture was more blurred. The Italians remain nervous, passing names around without managing to generate consensus or enthusiasm. And the Spanish people—as a bloc—remain absent. There are no notable interventions, no clear proposals, not even the slightest attempt at leadership. It's as if they've agreed to play at irrelevance.

What has surprised everyone is the general good tone. After years of tension, suspicion, divisions, and awkward silences, the congregations are being surprisingly cordial. They listen to one another. There is applause. There are even smiles. Perhaps it's a momentary truce. Or perhaps, with Francis's death so abruptly, the cardinals have felt the vertigo of having to build anew, this time with more humility.

In any case, if Monday made one thing clear, it's that there are voices that can still take flight. And that the cardinals, when they want, are still capable of speaking as shepherds, not as managers.

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