The white smoke has barely cleared. Thousands of people are screaming in St. Peter's Square, and the world is staring at a heavy velvet curtain. But inside the Sistine Chapel, things are actually pretty quiet. The newly elected man has just said "Accepto." He's the Pope now. But before he can even think about the balcony, the Cardinal Dean walks up and asks a question that basically defines the next decade of Church history: "By what name shall you be called?"
Honestly, it’s a high-pressure moment.
There are no official rules. No "holy handbook" of names. A new Pope can technically call himself whatever he wants. He could be Pope Dave if he really felt like it, though the Cardinals might have a collective heart attack. In reality, how are popes names chosen is a process rooted in deep personal symbolism, a bit of PR, and a long-standing fear of looking too arrogant.
The pagan problem and the first "name change"
For the first 500 years of the Church, popes didn't change their names. They just used their birth names. You had Pope Peter, Pope Linus, Pope Clement. It was straightforward.
Then came Mercurius in the year 533.
Mercurius was a priest at St. Clement’s Basilica. He was smart, respected, and suddenly elected Bishop of Rome. But he had a glaring branding issue: his name was literally a tribute to the Roman god Mercury.
Imagine being the leader of the Christian world while being named after a pagan deity of trade and thievery. It just didn't sit right. To fix the vibe, he looked back at a predecessor who had died as a martyr—John I—and decided to call himself John II. He started a trend that eventually became a rule, though it took a few centuries to really stick.
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By the year 1000, it was weird if a Pope didn't change his name. Usually, it was because their birth names sounded "too foreign" or "too German" for the very Roman atmosphere of the Vatican.
It’s basically a mission statement in one word
When a Pope picks a name today, he’s not just picking a favorite saint. He’s sending a signal. It's a "vibe check" for the entire Catholic Church.
Take Pope Francis in 2013. He was the first to pick a brand-new name in over a thousand years. When Cardinal Bergoglio was elected, his friend Cardinal Hummes whispered to him, "Don't forget the poor." That was it. He chose Francis after St. Francis of Assisi, the guy famous for living in poverty and talking to animals. By choosing that name, he told the world exactly what his papacy was going to be about: simplicity and service.
Other popes do the same thing but with a focus on continuity:
- Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger) chose his name to honor Benedict XV, who was known as a "prophet of peace" during World War I. He also wanted to link his work to St. Benedict, the patron saint of Europe.
- John Paul II went for a "double-barreled" name to honor his predecessor, John Paul I, who had only lasted 33 days.
- Leo XIV (the most recent choice as of 2025/2026) signaled a return to the intellectual and social teachings of Leo XIII, the "Pope of the Workers."
The "Peter" taboo
There is one name that is strictly off-limits.
Peter.
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Nobody wants to be Peter II. It’s considered incredibly hubristic to take the name of the first Pope, the guy who actually knew Jesus. There’s even an old prophecy by a 12th-century monk named Malachy (though historians mostly think it’s a fake) that says the final Pope will be "Peter the Roman" and will oversee the end of the world.
Whether they believe the prophecy or not, most popes aren't looking to invite that kind of comparison—or that kind of pressure.
Why the numbers get so confusing
If you’ve ever looked at a list of popes and wondered why the numbers jump around, you aren't alone. It’s a mess.
Medieval record-keeping wasn't exactly a science. In the 10th century, there was some confusion about a "Pope John" who might or might not have existed. By the time they realized the mistake, the numbering was already skewed. This is why we have a John XXIII but never had a John XX.
There was also a guy named Marinus whom people thought was named "Martinus," which is why there’s a gap in the Martins. Basically, if you think the numbering is logical, you've already lost. It’s a mix of historical errors and "fixing" the records centuries later.
How the decision actually happens
The moment of choice is surprisingly private. The Pope is taken to the "Room of Tears" (so named because most new popes realize the weight of the job and start crying) to put on his white cassock.
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He’s had some time to think about the name during the Conclave, usually while the votes are being counted and he realizes he’s winning. He doesn't have to consult anyone. He doesn't need a committee. He just says the name, and the Master of Ceremonies writes it down on a formal document.
From that second, his birth name is dead to the public. His family might still call him Jorge or Joseph in private, but to the rest of the 1.3 billion Catholics, he is the name he chose.
What to watch for in the future
If you're following Vatican news, the name choice is the first real data point you get on a new administration.
If a future Pope chooses Pius XIII, you can bet he’s going to be very traditional, likely favoring the Latin Mass and old-school doctrine. If someone picks John XXIV, they’re probably looking to follow the more "progressive" and "people-focused" path of the 1960s.
It’s the ultimate short-hand for a legacy.
Next Steps for You:
If you want to understand the current direction of the Church, look up the "regnal name" of the current Pope and see which specific predecessor they cited in their first public speech. That usually gives you the roadmap for their entire time in office.