Out of reverence, I have chosen not to include any photographs of Pope Francis lying in state. While many images exist and may be readily found elsewhere, I believe moments of mourning and prayer—especially those as sacred as a pope’s final vigil—deserve quiet dignity rather than public display. This article aims instead to honour the symbolism and beauty of the papal vestments without intruding upon the stillness of that farewell.
In the great stillness that falls upon the Church at the death of a pope, there is a sacred choreography that begins—at once ancient, deliberate, and filled with meaning. Among the first signs of this solemn transition is the clothing that adorns the late pontiff as his body is laid in state in St Peter’s Basilica. It is not merely fabric, nor even symbolism alone—it is the vesture of centuries, woven with the memory of kings and martyrs, of fishermen and saints.
The Pope’s Funeral Garments
When a pope dies, his body is dressed in traditional papal vestments. These typically include a white cassock—the simple robe that every pope wears daily—over which is placed a red chasuble, the liturgical vestment worn during Mass. Red is the colour of martyrdom, of the Holy Spirit, and of the blood poured out for the Church. It reminds the faithful that the pope, though a figure of immense earthly esteem, was always a servant of the cross.
On his feet are red leather shoes—a centuries-old symbol of the pope’s readiness to go where Christ leads. And on his head is placed the mitre—the tall, pointed headdress that has long been worn by bishops and popes alike. It tapers upward in two peaks, resembling tongues of flame or the mountaintops of Scripture, and is marked by two ribbons trailing down the back, called lappets. The mitre is not ornamental; it is a symbol of teaching authority and episcopal duty, a reminder that the pope is above all a bishop—of Rome, yes, but also of souls.
His body lies in state before the Altar of the Confession, above the tomb of St Peter himself. Pilgrims from every corner of the globe come to kneel and pray before the man who bore the burdens of Peter.
The Papal Tiara: Crown of a Shepherd-King
While no longer in use, another headpiece long associated with the papacy is the papal tiara—a towering, almost beehive-shaped crown adorned with three golden bands. It was traditionally used during papal coronations, symbolising the pope’s spiritual authority and threefold office: father of kings, governor of the world, and Vicar of Christ.
Though set aside after Vatican II, the tiara remains a potent symbol of the Church’s grandeur—not in splendour for its own sake, but as a sign of the eternal majesty of Christ, whom the pope serves. Today, the image of the tiara still crowns the Vatican coat of arms, a reminder that the visible Church always points toward the invisible kingdom.
The “Room of Tears” and the New Pope’s Robes
After the mourning, the waiting begins. The cardinals gather in conclave within the Sistine Chapel, casting their votes beneath the eyes of the saints and angels. When a new pope is chosen, he is led to a small chamber beside the chapel known as the Room of Tears—so named for the many tears shed there in awe and trembling.
In this room await three white cassocks—small, medium, and large. Tailored in advance, one of them will become the robe of the new pontiff, whoever he may be. It is chosen, fitted, and fastened quickly. A red mozzetta is placed over his shoulders, a white zucchetto on his head. And then, the new pope steps out into history.
Habemus Papam.
Vesture and the Visible Church
To the world, it may look like ceremony. To the Church, it is language—a sacred grammar in silk and thread. Every garment speaks. The mitre speaks of responsibility. The chasuble speaks of sacrifice. The tiara speaks of tradition, even in silence. And the white cassock speaks of simplicity—the quiet strength of a servant clothed in grace.
These are not merely clothes. They are witness.
And through them, the Church keeps vigil—clothed always for what is eternal.
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