When a pope dies, the Vatican does not pause to grieve—not at first. It moves.

Centuries of experience have taught the Church that the hours following a pontiff’s death are among the most fragile in its history. Everything must be executed with precision. A single misstep can create confusion, power struggles, or worse. That is why the Vatican maintains some of the most meticulously choreographed protocols on earth, refined through disasters, schisms, and near-collapse.

With the death of Pope Francis, those ancient mechanisms have been set into motion once again.

Before mourning, before announcements, before history can officially turn a page, the first task is absolute certainty: the pope must be confirmed dead.

This verification no longer takes place in the room where the pope dies. Instead, it occurs in his private chapel. There, the camerlengo—currently Cardinal Kevin Farrell—assumes temporary command of the Vatican. From this moment until the election of a new pope, the camerlengo becomes the most powerful figure in the Catholic Church.

Traditionally, this moment involved what became known as the Silver Hammer protocol. The camerlengo would gently tap the deceased pope’s head with a small silver hammer while calling out his baptismal name three times. The logic was brutally simple: if the pope did not respond, he was truly dead.

The ritual was used at least until the death of Pope Leo XIII in 1903 and possibly as late as John XXIII in the 1960s. Thankfully, it is no longer practiced.

Instead, Cardinal Farrell called out the pope’s baptismal name—Jorge—three times. When there was no response, he formally declared: “I declare that His Holiness Pope Francis is truly dead.” In modern times, this declaration may be accompanied by medical confirmation, such as an electrocardiogram, as was done when Pope John Paul II died in 2005.

Only then does the machinery of succession begin.

Securing Power and Destroying Authority

With death confirmed, Pope Francis’s body was placed in an open coffin—a relatively recent change in papal custom. Older generations may remember John Paul II lying on a raised bier known as a catafalque. Benedict XVI was displayed similarly.

Francis rejected that tradition. In November 2024, he approved reforms that eliminated elevated display entirely. His body would remain within the coffin, even during public mourning.

Meanwhile, the camerlengo’s next responsibility is security. The Apostolic Palace is sealed, and the pope’s private possessions are inventoried and protected. This practice dates back to eras when theft during papal transitions was a genuine risk.

Some items, however, must be destroyed.

The most significant is the Fisherman’s Ring—unique to each pope and historically used to seal official documents. In earlier centuries, such seals were vital proof of authenticity. Once a pope dies, any document bearing that seal must immediately be treated as a forgery.

In Francis’s case, Cardinal Farrell destroyed the ring in the presence of high-ranking cardinals, ensuring witnesses could attest that the authority it represented had ended. The papal lead seal was destroyed as well. Other belongings are archived, donated, or—rarely—returned to family members.

The Vigil of the Swiss Guard

From this moment forward, the Swiss Guard assumes an unbroken vigil.

They escort the pope’s body from the Apostolic Palace to St. Peter’s Basilica and stand watch day and night. Their loyalty does not end with death.

This devotion is not ceremonial nostalgia. In 1527, during the Sack of Rome, 147 Swiss Guards gave their lives to protect Pope Clement VII from invading forces. That memory still governs their conduct.

When Pope Benedict XVI died, Swiss Guards famously refused to leave his side even after the lights of St. Peter’s were turned off. The same unwavering watch now accompanies Pope Francis.

A Simpler Farewell

Historically, popes were buried in three nested coffins—cypress, lead, and oak—each symbolizing different dimensions of the papal office. Francis rejected this as excessive.

Instead, his body was placed in a simple wooden coffin lined with zinc.

For three days, the faithful will be allowed to pay their respects in St. Peter’s Basilica. On the fourth day, Francis will take his final journey—not into the Vatican crypts where most popes rest, but elsewhere.

An Unusual Resting Place

Beneath St. Peter’s lies a vast necropolis, a literal “city of the dead,” built atop ancient Roman burial grounds. Most popes are interred there.

Francis will not be.

In December 2023, he announced his wish to be buried at the Basilica of St. Mary Major—one of Rome’s four major papal basilicas and one of its seven historic pilgrimage churches. The choice is unusual, but not without precedent. Six previous popes are buried there, though the last was Clement IX in 1669.

No pope has chosen St. Mary Major in more than 350 years.

The basilica holds deep personal significance for Francis, who visited it more than 100 times during his papacy. Even in death, he chose closeness to the people over proximity to power.

Preparing the Conclave

Once burial preparations are complete, the Vatican turns to its most uncertain task: choosing the next pope.

About one week after Francis’s death, the College of Cardinals will begin three days of preparation before entering the conclave. The word itself means “with a key,” reflecting its sealed nature—but it was not always so disciplined.

After Pope Clement IV died in 1268, cardinals took nearly three years to elect a successor. Furious locals in the town of Viterbo locked them in, restricted their food to bread and water, and eventually tore the roof off the building to expose them to the elements. The result was Gregory X—who wasn’t even a priest at the time and was away on crusade.

Gregory later formalized conclave rules, limiting meals and enforcing isolation. Over centuries, secrecy tightened further. Secret ballots were introduced in the early 20th century. Today, the conclave is sealed off entirely.

Cardinals are forbidden from phones, news, or outside contact. During the 2013 conclave, the Vatican installed Faraday cages and signal jammers. This time, protections will likely be even stronger, guarding against drones and digital intrusion.

Smoke, Choice, and a New Name

Voting continues until one candidate receives a two-thirds majority. Each unsuccessful ballot produces black smoke—created by carbon compounds—rising from the Sistine Chapel chimney.

When a pope is chosen, white smoke appears instead.

Before that smoke rises, the chosen candidate is asked a single question: Do you accept your election? If he agrees, he selects a papal name. Only then does the signal go up.

The senior cardinal deacon then steps onto the balcony of St. Peter’s and announces: Habemus Papam. We have a pope.

The new pontiff appears, blesses the crowd, and returns inside to formally dissolve the conclave.

What Comes Next

Gone are the days of papal coronations and triple crowns. John Paul I, John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis all rejected grand ceremony in favor of modest inaugurations.

Whether the next pope will continue that tradition remains to be seen.

But one thing is certain: in the hours after a pope’s death, the Vatican becomes a place where history, ritual, and urgency collide. Every action is deliberate. Every silence is intentional.

Because when the Chair of Peter stands empty, the Church cannot afford uncertainty—not even for a moment.