Ever walked through St. Paul’s Outside the Walls in Rome? If you look up, you’ll see these circular mosaic portraits of every single pope. It’s a long line. There are actually only a few empty spots left, which is exactly why people start sweating when they talk about the prophecy of Saint Malachy.
It’s weird.
Whether you’re a devout Catholic or just someone who stays up too late reading Wikipedia rabbit holes, this list of 112 short, cryptic Latin phrases has a way of getting under your skin. It supposedly predicts every pope from the mid-12th century until the end of the world. Or at least, the end of the Papacy. Some people think it’s a divine roadmap. Others? They’re convinced it’s a 16th-century forgery designed to rig a papal election.
Honestly, both sides have pretty good arguments.
Where Did This Thing Actually Come From?
History tells us that in 1139, Saint Malachy—the Archbishop of Armagh—traveled from Ireland to Rome. According to the legend, while he was there, he had a massive vision. He saw the future of the Church. He supposedly wrote down a series of descriptions for every man who would ever wear the Fisherman's Ring and handed the manuscript to Pope Innocent II.
Then it vanished.
For 400 years, nobody heard a peep about it. It wasn't until 1595 that a Benedictine monk named Arnold Wion published a book called Lignum Vitae. Tucked inside was this "prophecy." That’s a huge red flag for historians. Why wait 450 years to mention a document that predicts the future of the Holy See?
Think about it.
If you found a notebook in 2026 that claimed to be from 1500 and perfectly predicted every US President up to Joe Biden, but then got "hazy" starting in 2028, you’d be skeptical, right? That’s exactly how scholars like Louis de Moréri viewed it back in the 17th century. He basically called it a fake right out of the gate.
The Creepy Accuracy (Before 1590)
The "prophecy" consists of 112 mottos. The ones describing popes before the year 1590 are almost scary. They are pinpoint accurate.
Take Pope Urban IV (1261–1264). His motto in the prophecy is Ex telonio liliacei Martini, or "From the tollbooth of liliaceous Martin." Guess what? Before he was pope, he was the treasurer of St. Martin of Tours, and his family coat of arms featured lilies.
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Then there’s Nicholas IV (1288–1292). His motto was Hierusalem Campaniae. He was born in the town of Ascoli in the Campania region and was the titular Bishop of Jerusalem.
It’s almost too good.
This is where the forgery theory gains a lot of steam. Most historians believe the list was actually created around 1590 to help Cardinal Girolamo Simoncelli get elected. The motto assigned to the "next" pope at that time was Ex antiquitate Urbis (From the antiquity of the city). Simoncelli was from Orvieto, which in Latin is Urbevetum—old city.
He didn't win, by the way.
The Post-1590 Hits: Coincidence or Miracle?
If the prophecy of Saint Malachy was just a political hit piece from the 1500s, it should have stopped making sense after the election it was trying to influence. But it didn't. That's the part that keeps people coming back to it. Some of the later "hits" are genuinely bizarre.
- Pope Leo XIII (1878–1903): His motto was Lumen in Caelo (Light in the Heaven). His coat of arms? A literal shooting star.
- Pope Pius X (1903–1914): Ignis Ardens (Burning Fire). He died right as World War I broke out, a time when Europe was quite literally a burning fire.
- Pope John XXIII (1958–1963): Pastor et Nauta (Shepherd and Sailor). Before he became Pope, he was the Patriarch of Venice—the ultimate city of sailors.
- Pope Paul VI (1963–1978): Flos Florum (Flower of Flowers). His coat of arms had three lilies.
Now, skeptics (and I’m usually one of them) will tell you that if you give a vague enough Latin phrase, you can fit it to almost anyone. It’s the "Horoscope Effect." If I tell you "The Great Tree will fall," and a king dies, or a forest burns, or a bank collapses, I look like a genius.
But then you get to Benedict XVI.
His motto was Gloria Olivae (The Glory of the Olive). When Joseph Ratzinger took the name Benedict, people struggled. He wasn't from an "olive" region. He didn't have olives on his crest. But then someone pointed out that the Benedictine Order has a sub-group called the Olivetans. Plus, Benedict XVI was a "Pope of Peace," and the olive branch is the universal symbol of peace.
It’s a stretch. Maybe. But it's a stretch people love to make.
Peter the Roman: The Final Pope?
This is where things get heavy. According to the list, the 112th pope is the last one. The motto for the final pope isn't a short phrase; it's a full paragraph:
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"In the final persecution of the Holy Roman Church, there will sit Peter the Roman, who will pasture his sheep in many tribulations, and when these things are finished, the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the dreadful judge will judge his people. The End."
Here’s the kicker: Pope Francis is the pope who follows the "Glory of the Olive."
Technically, he is the 112th pope on Malachy’s list.
People have been trying to link Jorge Bergoglio to "Peter the Roman" for years. Some point out that his father was an immigrant from Italy (making him "Roman"). Others noted that he chose the name Francis after St. Francis of Assisi—whose father’s name was Pietro (Peter).
Is it a reach? Absolutely.
But the prophecy of Saint Malachy has always lived in the space between historical fact and "what if."
Why We Can't Quit the Prophecy
The Catholic Church has never officially endorsed the prophecy. In fact, most Vatican scholars roll their eyes at it. They classify it as "private revelation," which basically means you can believe it if you want, but you don't have to.
So why does it trend every time a pope gets a cold?
Humans hate uncertainty. We want a timeline. We want to know that someone, somewhere, has a map of where this whole "civilization" thing is going. Whether it's the Mayan Calendar or an Irish Saint's vision, we are suckers for a "The End is Nigh" countdown.
There’s also the architectural coincidence I mentioned at the start. In the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls, there are circular niches for papal portraits. For centuries, people pointed to the limited number of empty spots as "proof" that the end was near.
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The Vatican's response? They just added more spots.
The Reality Check: What Most People Miss
The biggest blow to the prophecy’s authenticity isn't just the 400-year gap. It's the "Popes" it includes. The list features several "Antipopes"—men who claimed the papacy in opposition to the canonically elected pope.
If this were a divine vision from God, would He include the "fake" popes in the count?
Probably not.
Most serious historians, including the Jesuit scholar Claude-François Menestrier, proved centuries ago that the mottos were likely tailored to match the biographies of the popes up to 1590. The accuracy drops off a cliff after that date, becoming much more symbolic and open to interpretation.
How to Approach the Malachy List Today
If you're looking at the prophecy of Saint Malachy as a literal crystal ball, you're probably going to be disappointed. Pope Francis has been in office since 2013, and while the world is certainly chaotic, the "City of Seven Hills" (Rome) is still standing.
However, as a piece of "Prophecy Literature," it’s fascinating. It tells us more about the 16th century—the era of the Counter-Reformation, political intrigue, and the struggle for the soul of Europe—than it does about the actual future.
Actionable Takeaways for the Curious
If you want to dive deeper without falling for "fake news" or extremist theories, here is how to look at it objectively:
- Check the source material: Read Arnold Wion’s Lignum Vitae (or translations of it). Don't just rely on TikTok summaries.
- Compare the "hits" vs. "misses": Look at the popes between 1600 and 1800. You'll find the descriptions are much harder to link to reality than the ones from the 1500s.
- Study the context of 1590: Research the Conclave of 1590. When you see how much Cardinal Simoncelli needed a "boost," the prophecy starts looking a lot more like a campaign brochure.
- Differentiate between Dogma and Folklore: Remember that in Catholicism, these prophecies carry zero official weight. They are considered "pious curiosities" at best.
The prophecy of Saint Malachy is a masterpiece of mystery. Whether it's a 12th-century miracle or a 16th-century prank, it has survived for hundreds of years because it taps into our deepest fears and curiosities about the future. It’s a reminder that even in a world of high-tech data and satellites, we’re still suckers for a good old-fashioned riddle written in Latin.
Next time there's a Conclave, watch the headlines. You'll see Malachy's name pop up. And now, you'll know exactly why.