When was the last time a pope died? If you’re thinking about the massive, sea-of-red funeral in St. Peter’s Square that stopped the world, you’re probably thinking of 2005. But that’s not actually the right answer. The timeline of the papacy got weird recently. It got complicated.
The last time a pope died was December 31, 2022. That’s when Benedict XVI passed away. He was 95. He was also, technically, the "Pope Emeritus," a title that didn't even exist in the modern imagination until he decided he was too tired to keep going in 2013.
It was a strange New Year’s Eve for the Catholic Church. No bells tolled initially. No "Sede Vacante" (empty seat) was declared because Pope Francis was already sitting in the chair. It felt different because it was different. For the first time in over 600 years, the Church had to figure out how to bury a man who used to be the Vicar of Christ but had stepped down to live in a converted monastery with his cats and his piano.
The Passing of Benedict XVI: A Death Without a Vacancy
Benedict’s death was a slow fade. His health had been "declining due to advanced age" for weeks, according to Matteo Bruni, the Vatican’s chief spokesman. By the time the news broke on that Saturday morning, it wasn't a shock. It was a somber punctuation mark.
People often get confused about the "last time" because 2005 was so much louder. When John Paul II died, it triggered a massive, ancient gears-of-state mechanism. When Benedict died in 2022, things were quieter. Simple. That was his request, honestly. He wanted a "sober" funeral.
The funeral took place on January 5, 2023. It was weird to see. You had a sitting pope, Francis, presiding over the funeral of his predecessor. This literally hasn't happened in the modern era. Usually, the death of a pope means the end of an administration. This time? It was just a funeral for a retired bishop of Rome.
Remembering the Global Shock of April 2005
If we’re talking about the last time a reigning pope died, we have to look back to April 2, 2005. That was Karol Wojtyła—Pope John Paul II. That death felt like the end of a century.
He was 84. He had Parkinson's disease. The world watched him wither on camera for years, a slow-motion tragedy that played out on the balcony of the Apostolic Palace. When his breathing finally failed and his heart gave out at 9:37 PM, the crowd in St. Peter’s Square—thousands of people who had been holding a vigil—just went silent. Then they started clapping. It’s an Italian thing. A sign of respect.
The ritual after John Paul II died was the full, ancient experience. The Camerlengo (the Chamberlain) has to officially verify the death. There’s a legend that they hit the Pope on the forehead with a silver hammer and call his baptismal name three times, but the Vatican says they don't do that anymore. They just used a veil. Then, they broke the Ring of the Fisherman. They destroyed his lead seals. They literally broke the tools of his power so no one could forge documents in his name during the transition.
Why the 2022 Death Felt Different
When Benedict died, they didn’t break his ring. Why? Because they had already "canceled" it back in 2013 when he resigned. They just scratched a large 'X' across it with a chisel.
The 2022 death was stripped of the political urgency that usually follows a papal passing. There was no Conclave. No black smoke. No white smoke. No speculation about "Papabile" candidates. We already had a pope.
This created a bit of a protocol headache. Does a former pope get a state funeral? Some world leaders showed up, like Queen Sofia of Spain and King Philippe of Belgium, but officially, only Italy and Germany (Benedict's homeland) were invited as formal delegations. Everyone else came in a "private capacity." It was a bit awkward, frankly.
The Logistics of a Papal Death
When a pope dies, the body is usually moved to St. Peter’s Basilica for "public veneration." For Benedict, about 200,000 people shuffled past his body over three days. He was dressed in red vestments—the color of mourning for a pope—but he wasn't wearing the pallium, that woolly circular band that symbolizes jurisdictional authority. Because he didn't have any anymore.
John Paul II’s body, on the other hand, was seen by millions. The lines in Rome in 2005 were so long they had to tell people to stop coming. It was a logistical nightmare for the city. People slept on the cobblestones.
- The Three Coffins: Both men were buried in a triple-layered casket. First, a cypress wood coffin. Then, a zinc one (soldered shut). Finally, an outer oak or elm casket.
- The Rogito: A lead tube is placed inside the coffin containing a parchment summary of the Pope's life and some coins minted during his reign.
- The Grottoes: Both were buried in the Vatican Grottoes beneath the basilica. Benedict actually took the spot where John Paul II was originally buried before he was moved upstairs after being declared a saint.
The Long Gap Before the Recent Passings
Before the 21st-century deaths, you have to go back to 1978. That was the "Year of Three Popes." It was chaotic.
First, Paul VI died in August. He’d been pope for 15 years. Then, the cardinals elected John Paul I. He was the "Smiling Pope." He lasted 33 days.
His death is still the subject of endless conspiracy theories, most of them baseless, involving the Vatican Bank and the Mafia. In reality, he likely had a heart attack. But because there was no autopsy—popes usually don't get them—the rumors grew legs. When he died, the world was stunned. He hadn't even been inaugurated properly.
Then came John Paul II, the first non-Italian in 455 years. His long reign (26 years) meant that for many people, the "last time a pope died" was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
The Mystery of the "Pope’s Last Words"
Human beings love a dramatic ending. We want the dying words to be profound.
John Paul II supposedly said, in Polish, "Allow me to go to the house of the Father." It was a beautiful, cinematic exit.
Benedict XVI’s last words were reported by a nurse who heard him whispering in Italian in the middle of the night: "Signore, ti amo." (Lord, I love you.)
It’s interesting how these deaths reflect the men. John Paul II’s death was a global event, a public passion play. Benedict’s was a quiet retreat, a scholar slipping away in the library of his retirement home.
What Happens Next Time?
The death of Benedict XVI changed the rules. It proved that a "retired" pope could die without breaking the Church. But it also left questions for when Pope Francis eventually passes.
Francis has already said he’s simplified the funeral rites even further. He doesn't want to be laid out on a high catafalque. He wants to be buried in the Basilica of St. Mary Major, not St. Peter’s. He’s already making the arrangements.
When was the last time a pope died? It was 2022. But the next time it happens, it will look completely different again. We are entering an era where the ancient, rigid traditions of the Vatican are becoming a bit more fluid, a bit more human.
Actionable Steps for Historians and Travelers
If you are interested in the history of papal deaths or planning a visit to see where these figures are laid to rest, keep these points in mind:
- Visit the Grottoes Early: The Vatican Grottoes, where Benedict XVI and many other popes are buried, are accessible from the main floor of St. Peter's Basilica. Go as soon as they open at 7:00 AM to avoid the three-hour lines. It’s free.
- Check the Liturgy: If you're a student of ritual, the Ordo Exsequiarum Romani Pontificis is the official book of funeral rites for a pope. It was heavily revised after 2005 and will likely be revised again based on how Benedict's funeral was handled.
- Verify the Tomb: While Benedict is in the Grottoes, John Paul II is now located in the Chapel of St. Sebastian on the main level of the Basilica, near Michelangelo’s Pietà. He was moved there in 2011.
- Study the "Sede Vacante" Period: If you are researching the legal side of things, look into the Apostolic Constitution Universi Dominici Gregis. It governs what happens when the papacy is vacant, though it didn't fully apply when Benedict died because he wasn't the reigning pope.
The death of a pope is never just a biological event; it is a massive shift in the spiritual and political landscape for 1.3 billion people. Whether it's the televised mourning of a global superstar like John Paul II or the quiet passing of a retired theologian like Benedict, these moments define the eras of the modern world.