Pope Francis’ death has now set into motion one of the most time-honored and tightly guarded traditions in the world: the election of a new pope. As the world mourns the passing of the 88-year-old pontiff, the wheels of the Vatican’s ancient succession ritual begin to turn behind closed doors, far from the cameras, protests, and politics of everyday life. The process is steeped in centuries of ritual and guarded by a level of secrecy that would make the CIA blush. And yet, what happens next has enormous implications—not just for the Catholic Church’s 1.4 billion faithful, but for the geopolitical and cultural landscape of the entire world.
With the death of the pope, the Church enters a phase known as “sede vacante”—Latin for “the seat is vacant.” It’s a period of mourning, yes, but also of preparation. For the next few weeks, the Vatican will focus not just on eulogizing Francis, but on carefully orchestrating the mechanisms of selecting his successor. The College of Cardinals takes temporary control, though with limited powers, under the leadership of the camerlengo. That title now belongs to Irish-born Cardinal Kevin Farrell, who becomes the acting steward of the Church’s day-to-day operations, overseeing everything from sealing off the papal apartments to confirming the pope’s death and arranging the funeral rites.
Make no mistake: during this period, the Church is functionally leaderless. Major decisions are put on ice. The Catholic world essentially goes into administrative lockdown as the Vatican prepares for what’s arguably the most important secret ballot on the planet.
At the heart of this process is the conclave, the famed assembly in which the cardinals cast their votes for the next pontiff. This conclave will begin 15 to 20 days after Francis’ death. The cardinals will be locked inside the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel, a place better known for its ceiling than the backroom politicking that will now unfold beneath it. No phones, no internet, no newspapers. Just 138 electors—down from the usual 120 cap, thanks to an exception made by Francis—and all of them under the age of 80, cloistered away from the world and tasked with choosing the next Vicar of Christ.
The voting is done in complete secrecy. Ballots are marked with the Latin phrase “Eligo in Summum Pontificem,” meaning “I choose as Supreme Pontiff,” and dropped into a chalice. After each round of voting, the ballots are burned. If no pope is chosen, a chemical additive turns the smoke black, signaling to the faithful gathered in St. Peter’s Square that the Church is still without a leader. If and when a cardinal receives a two-thirds majority, the ballots are burned with a different additive that produces white smoke—a visual cue that has signaled papal transitions for generations.
When that white smoke finally billows out of the chimney atop the Sistine Chapel, the world will know: “Habemus Papam”—we have a pope. But the world won’t yet know who. That announcement comes from the senior cardinal deacon, who steps onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica and reveals the name of the chosen cardinal and the papal name he has selected. Moments later, the new pope will emerge and address the crowds, offering his first public blessing and setting the tone for a papacy that could shape global Christianity for decades.
Of course, the identity and ideology of the next pope will be of immense interest—not just to Catholics, but to conservatives around the world who’ve grown tired of watching the Church drift leftward under Francis. Many are praying for a return to tradition, to clarity, and to strength. They want a pope who’s not afraid to stand for life, family, faith, and freedom in a time when those values are relentlessly under attack.
As the world watches the smoke rise over Vatican City, the stakes couldn’t be higher. The conclave won’t just choose a pope—it will decide whether the Church continues down the progressive path it’s followed under Francis or reclaims the rock-solid, unapologetic orthodoxy it was built upon.