The world stops. It’s a weird thing to think about, but when a Pope dies or steps down—as Benedict XVI famously did in 2013—a billion people start looking at a single chimney in Rome. It’s ancient. It’s mysterious. Honestly, it’s a bit like a political thriller, but with more lace and Latin. If you've ever wondered how do popes get chosen, you're basically asking about one of the oldest, most secretive continuous election processes on the planet: the Conclave.
It isn't a typical election. There are no stump speeches. No TV ads. No "I'm the Bishop of Rome and I approve this message" banners. It’s a locked-door pressure cooker where the men in red hats—the Cardinals—sit in the Sistine Chapel until they reach a decision. If they don't agree, they don't leave. It’s that simple.
The vacancy: What happens when the seat is empty?
The moment a Pope dies or resigns, the "Sede Vacante" begins. This is just a fancy way of saying the seat is empty. The Camerlengo, who is the Chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, takes charge of the Vatican's temporal affairs. One of his first jobs is actually kinda morbid. He has to verify the death. In the old days, they’d tap the Pope’s forehead with a silver hammer and call his name three times. Nowadays, it’s mostly just doctors and certificates, but the symbolism remains.
The Ring of the Fisherman? Smashed. The lead seal for apostolic letters? Destroyed. This ensures no one can forge "official" documents while the Church is between leaders. It’s a security measure that has survived for centuries because, let's face it, the Renaissance was a wild time for forgeries.
Then comes the funeral. For nine days—the Novemdiales—the Church mourns. While the world watches the ceremonies, the Cardinals are already busy. They meet in "General Congregations." Think of these as the pre-game huddle. They talk about the state of the Church, the challenges ahead (like secularism, internal scandals, or climate change), and they start sizing each other up. They aren't allowed to campaign, but they definitely "discern."
The Conclave begins: Extra Omnes!
About 15 to 20 days after the vacancy starts, the real show begins. The Cardinals process into the Sistine Chapel. It's a heavy atmosphere. Michelangelo’s "Last Judgment" is staring down at them. They take an oath of absolute secrecy. If they leak anything, they face automatic excommunication. That’s a big deal in their line of work.
📖 Related: Hairstyles for women over 50 with round faces: What your stylist isn't telling you
Then, the Master of Pontifical Liturgical Celebrations shouts "Extra omnes!" Everyone who isn't a voting Cardinal has to get out. The doors are locked. Literally. The word "Conclave" comes from the Latin cum clave, meaning "with a key."
In 1268, the Cardinals took nearly three years to pick a Pope. The locals in Viterbo got so fed up they ripped the roof off the building and put the Cardinals on a diet of bread and water to hurry them up. We don't do that anymore, but the isolation is still very real. No phones. No newspapers. No Twitter. The windows are often boarded up or covered. They stay at the Domus Sanctae Marthae, a guesthouse inside the Vatican, and they are shuttled to the chapel. They aren't allowed to talk to anyone on the way.
How do popes get chosen inside the chapel?
The voting is a ritualized process. Each Cardinal writes a name on a rectangular piece of paper called a scheda. They try to disguise their handwriting. You don't want your neighbor seeing who you picked. The paper says Eligo in summum pontificem—"I elect as supreme pontiff."
One by one, they walk up to the altar. They hold the ballot up, swear they are voting for the person they think God wants, and drop it into a chalice.
The counting and the smoke
Three Scrutineers count the votes. They pierce each ballot with a needle through the word Eligo and string them together. If no one gets a two-thirds majority, the ballots are burned with a chemical additive that produces black smoke (fumata nera).
👉 See also: How to Sign Someone Up for Scientology: What Actually Happens and What You Need to Know
- Black smoke: No Pope. Try again.
- White smoke: We have a Pope. Cue the bells.
They usually vote twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon. If they go three days without a result, they take a break for prayer and "informal discussion." It’s basically a chance to grab a coffee and figure out why the vote is split.
Who can actually be Pope?
Technically? Any baptized Catholic male. You don't even have to be a priest. If the Cardinals elected a layperson tomorrow, he would immediately have to be ordained a priest and consecrated as a Bishop.
Realistically? It’s going to be a Cardinal. Specifically, a "Prince of the Church." The last time they picked someone who wasn't a Cardinal was Urban VI in 1378. That didn't end well—it actually started the Western Schism where there were eventually three people claiming to be Pope at once. Total mess. So, they tend to stick to the guys in the room.
There’s also this concept of the Papabile. These are the "popable" candidates—the frontrunners. But there’s an old Roman saying: "He who enters the Conclave a Pope, leaves it a Cardinal." In other words, the favorites often lose because the voting blocks shift. John Paul II was a dark horse. Francis was a surprise to many.
Acceptance and the "Room of Tears"
Once someone hits that two-thirds mark, the youngest Cardinal Deacon rings a bell. The Dean of the College of Cardinals asks the winner: "Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff?"
✨ Don't miss: Wire brush for cleaning: What most people get wrong about choosing the right bristles
If they say "Accepto," they are officially Pope. They are then asked what name they want to take. This is a big moment. The name sets the tone. A "Pius" might be more traditional; a "Francis" signals a focus on the poor.
Then comes the "Room of Tears" (Stanza delle Lacrime). It’s a tiny room off the Sistine Chapel where the new Pope goes to put on his white robes for the first time. It's called that because almost every Pope breaks down crying there. The weight of the job—leading 1.3 billion people—hits them all at once.
The announcement: Habemus Papam!
The senior Cardinal Deacon moves to the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica. He announces to the crowds: "Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus Papam!" (I announce to you a great joy: We have a Pope!)
He says the name in Latin. If the winner was Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, he'd be announced as Georgium Marium. Then the new Pope steps out, gives his first blessing (Urbi et Orbi), and the world starts to learn who this man really is.
Why the process matters today
It feels medieval because it is. But for the Church, this slow, deliberate, and silent process is a shield. It keeps out—or tries to—the immediate pressures of 24-hour news cycles and political lobbying. It’s about "discernment," not just data.
When you look at how do popes get chosen, you're seeing a system that has survived the fall of empires, the Black Death, and world wars. It’s designed to be slow. It’s designed to be hard.
Key takeaways for the curious observer:
- Age limit: Cardinals over 80 years old can't vote. This was a rule put in place by Paul VI to keep the Conclave relatively "young" (by Vatican standards).
- Total secrecy: Jamming devices are often installed in the Sistine Chapel to prevent electronic eavesdropping.
- Two-thirds majority: This isn't a simple 51% win. It requires broad consensus, which is why it often takes several days.
- The "Popability" factor: While anyone can be chosen, the College of Cardinals usually looks for a "bridge" candidate—someone who can unite the different wings of the Church.
To really understand the Vatican, you have to watch the smoke. It's the only time the most secretive organization in the world gives a real-time status update. If you want to follow the next one, keep an eye on the official Vatican News outlet, as they are the first to confirm the chemical composition of the smoke to avoid the "is it grey or is it white?" confusion that used to happen. You can also study the "Consistory" lists—the meetings where the Pope appoints new Cardinals—to see how the "electorate" is being shaped long before a Conclave even begins.