VATICAN CITY — The doors have closed. The guards are posted. And under the gaze of Michelangelo’s frescoes, 133 cardinals have begun the solemn task of choosing the Catholic Church’s next leader.
The Sistine Chapel, rich in history and thick with silence, is now the stage for one of the world’s most secretive rituals. As of Wednesday evening, the conclave has officially begun.
The morning opened with a televised mass in St Peter’s Basilica. Cardinal Giovanni Battista Re, the 91-year-old dean of the College of Cardinals, led the service. It was the same role he performed at Pope Francis’s funeral last month. Then, shortly after 4 p.m., the electors gathered in the Pauline Chapel. With prayerful chants and the hymn Veni Creator Spiritus, they made their way in procession to the Sistine Chapel.
Once inside, each cardinal laid one hand on the Gospels and swore an oath of secrecy. Nothing that happens during the conclave is ever meant to leave those walls. As tradition dictates, the phrase “extra omnes”—meaning “everyone out”—was declared. From that moment, the cardinals were alone.
It is no longer a literal lock-and-key situation. But the process remains tightly sealed. Swiss Guards flank every entrance. Vatican technicians disabled mobile networks earlier in the afternoon. Even kitchen staff at the guesthouse where the cardinals stay have been sworn to silence.
The ballots, printed on simple paper, were then distributed by Monsignor Diego Ravelli, the Vatican’s chief liturgical officer. The first vote followed soon after.
Although no rule prevents a pope from being elected on the first ballot, it hasn’t happened in modern times.
“In that first vote, it’s more about mapping the field,” said Austen Ivereigh, a biographer of Pope Francis and a frequent Vatican commentator. “Names with 20 or more votes will stand out. Then things start to narrow.”
He described the process as resembling “a political campaign—but it’s really about finding harmony.”
To be elected pope, a candidate must receive at least two-thirds of the votes. If no such consensus is reached, the cardinals will return to Casa Santa Marta, their temporary residence, for dinner and conversation.
It is here, away from the scrutiny of history and the scent of incense, that the real negotiations begin. Over simple meals and a glass of wine—spirits are not served—alliances form, doubts are raised, and momentum builds.
According to Italian press reports, the cardinals will dine on light fare normally served to Vatican guests. The staff who prepare and serve the meals are not allowed to leave the grounds until the conclave ends.
The cardinals will vote up to four times a day: two in the morning, two in the afternoon. If history is a guide, this could all be over within 48 hours. Both of the previous two conclaves ended by the second day.
Back in 2013, it was in the quiet between sessions that Jorge Mario Bergoglio—the man who became Francis—began to sense the tide turning. “That’s when I felt the signals,” he wrote in his memoirs.
Still, there’s no certainty about how long this conclave will take. A drawn-out process might hint at divisions within the College of Cardinals. But few inside or outside the Vatican want a prolonged vacancy.
As the votes are cast and counted, all eyes will remain on the slender chimney installed on the chapel’s roof. Black smoke means no decision. White smoke signals that a new pope has been chosen.
Thousands of the faithful gathered in St Peter’s Square, will look up in anticipation, waiting for a puff of smoke to reveal the Church’s next shepherd.
