The smoke is the thing everyone waits for. Thousands of people stand in St. Peter’s Square, necks craned, eyes watering from the glare, just staring at a small chimney. If it’s black, they go get dinner. If it's white, the world changes. But honestly, the process of how to select a new pope is way weirder and more intense than just a color-coded smoke signal. It’s a mix of medieval ritual, high-stakes politics, and what Catholics believe is genuine divine intervention.
It’s called a conclave. That word literally means "with a key." They lock the door. They actually lock it.
The cardinals aren't allowed to talk to the outside world. No iPhones. No newspapers. No "hey, what's the weather like?" to the kitchen staff. If a cardinal is caught tweeting from the bathroom, he's basically looking at excommunication. It's that serious. This isn't just a corporate board meeting; it's the selection of a man who 1.3 billion people believe is the successor to St. Peter.
When the seat goes empty
Everything starts with a "Sede Vacante." That’s Latin for the seat being vacant. It usually happens when a pope dies, but as we saw with Benedict XVI in 2013, resignation is on the table now too. Once the pope is gone, the Camerlengo—the Chamberlain—takes over.
There's this old tradition, though people argue if it still happens exactly like this, where the Camerlengo taps the Pope’s forehead three times with a silver hammer while calling his baptismal name. If he doesn’t answer, he’s dead. Then, they destroy the Fisherman’s Ring. They smash it. It’s a legal thing to prevent anyone from backdating documents or faking the Pope’s signature while the office is empty.
Then comes the waiting.
The cardinals have to get to Rome. They have between 15 and 20 days to show up. They stay in a place called the Domus Sanctae Marthae, which is a guest house inside the Vatican. It’s nice, but it’s not exactly a five-star resort when you’re being cut off from your family and the news. They spend these days in "General Congregations," which are basically pre-game meetings. They talk about the state of the Church. They figure out what problems the next guy needs to fix. They don't officially nominate people—that’s not how it works—but they’re definitely "sizing each other up" over espresso.
Inside the Sistine Chapel
When the conclave actually starts, the cardinals walk into the Sistine Chapel. You've seen the ceiling; Michelangelo’s "Last Judgment" is staring down at them. It’s meant to be intimidating. It’s meant to remind them that if they pick the wrong guy for the wrong reasons, they’ve got a lot to answer for.
🔗 Read more: Trump Dance With Sword: What Really Happened in Riyadh
The Junior Cardinal Deacon goes to the door and says "Extra omnes!"
Everyone who isn't a voting cardinal has to get out. The doors are locked.
The voting process is strangely analog. Each cardinal gets a rectangular piece of paper. It says Eligo in Summum Pontificem at the top. "I elect as Supreme Pontiff..." They try to disguise their handwriting. They fold the paper twice. Then, one by one, they walk up to the altar, hold the ballot up, and swear an oath that they are voting for the person they believe God wants. They drop the ballot into a chalice.
Counting the cost
There are three Scrutineers who count the votes. They sit at a table in front of the altar. The third Scrutineer pierces each ballot with a needle through the word Eligo and strings them together. This way, they don’t lose any.
To win, you need a two-thirds majority.
If nobody gets two-thirds on the first vote, they try again. Usually, they vote four times a day—two in the morning, two in the afternoon. After each session, the ballots are burned. This is where the smoke comes in. They add chemicals now to make sure the color is clear. In the old days, they just used wet straw for black smoke, but it often came out a confusing shade of grey that drove the press corps crazy.
The politics of the "Papabile"
You’ll hear the word Papabile a lot. It means "pope-able." Basically, the front-runners.
🔗 Read more: Why ABC News This Week with George Stephanopoulos Still Dictates the Sunday Narrative
But there's an old Roman saying: "He who enters the conclave a Pope, leaves it a Cardinal." Basically, if you're the favorite going in, you're probably going to lose. The cardinals often look for a "bridge" candidate or someone who represents a shift in geography. When Jorge Mario Bergoglio was elected in 2013, it was a huge shock to the system because he was the first from the Americas.
The dynamics are fascinating. You have the "Curial" cardinals—the insiders who live in Rome—and the "Pastoral" cardinals who run big dioceses in places like Manila, Chicago, or Kinshasa. They don't always see eye to eye. The insiders want someone who understands the Vatican bureaucracy. The outsiders often want someone who can talk to the modern world without sounding like a textbook from 1950.
Why it takes so long
Sometimes they get stuck. The longest conclave in history took nearly three years back in the 13th century. The local people got so annoyed they tore the roof off the building to "let the Holy Spirit in" (and the rain). Nowadays, rules set by John Paul II and updated by Benedict XVI try to keep things moving.
If they haven’t picked someone after several days, they take a break for prayer and informal chat. No voting. Just talking. This is usually when the "kingmakers" start doing their real work, trying to find a compromise candidate who can hit that two-thirds mark.
"Acceptasne?"
Once someone finally gets enough votes, the youngest cardinal signals for the Master of Ceremonies and the Secretary of the College of Cardinals to enter. The Dean of the College of Cardinals walks up to the winner.
He asks one question in Latin: "Acceptasne electionem de te canonice factam in Summum Pontificem?"
Do you accept your canonical election as Supreme Pontiff? This is the moment. The man can say no. It’s happened. But usually, they say "Accepto."
Then they ask him what name he wants to be called. This is a big deal. The name sets the tone for the entire papacy. If he picks "Pius," he’s probably going to be a traditionalist. If he picks "Francis," like Bergoglio did, he’s signaling a focus on the poor and simplicity. He’s then whisked away to the "Room of Tears." It’s a tiny room off the Sistine Chapel where they have three sizes of white cassocks ready (Small, Medium, and Large). He puts on the white robes for the first time. It’s called the Room of Tears because, apparently, almost every pope breaks down and cries there once the weight of the job hits them.
The announcement
The Senior Cardinal Deacon—the Protodeacon—is the one who gets the fun job. He steps out onto the central balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica.
"Habemus Papam!"
💡 You might also like: What Really Happened With Lindy, Christopher, and Kamryn Simmons
We have a Pope. He announces the first name of the cardinal in Latin, then the surname, then the new papal name. The crowd goes wild. The new pope comes out, gives his first blessing (Urbi et Orbi), and the world starts analyzing every word he says for the next decade.
It’s a process that feels ancient because it is. While the rest of the world moves at the speed of a fiber-optic cable, the Church intentionally slows down. They want it to be hard. They want it to be heavy.
If you're watching the next time a conclave happens, pay attention to the days leading up to the lockout. That’s when the real story is written—in the quiet dinners at Roman trattorias and the hushed conversations in the Vatican gardens. By the time they get to the chapel, the "Vaticanologists" usually have a list of five names, and 80% of the time, the Holy Spirit (or the cardinals) picks number six.
What to watch for next time
- The Age Factor: Cardinals over 80 can’t vote. The balance of the "electorate" shifts every month as men birthday-out of the process.
- The Global South: Watch the growing influence of African and Asian cardinals. The center of gravity in the Church has moved, and the voting block reflects that.
- The "Draft": Sometimes a candidate who doesn't want the job gets momentum. Watching how they react to the pressure is the most human part of the whole thing.
Knowing how to select a new pope isn't just about religious trivia; it's about understanding one of the oldest political maneuvers still in existence. It’s a system designed to resist haste, which is a rare thing in 2026.
If you want to dive deeper into the current makeup of the College of Cardinals, your best bet is to check the official Vatican Press Office "Consistory" lists. They provide the most accurate biographical data on who will actually be inside that room when the doors finally click shut. Keep an eye on the appointments made by the current Pope, as those are the "hand-picked" successors who will likely define the next era.