The death of Pope Francis on Easter Monday, April 21, 2025, marked the end of a profoundly influential papacy and the beginning of a farewell that, in every way, reflects the man himself. True to the values he preached and embodied—humility, simplicity, and closeness to the people—Pope Francis has set forth burial plans that break decisively with longstanding Vatican tradition. His funeral and burial arrangements are not merely ceremonial changes; they are a final message from a pontiff who transformed the tone and focus of the Catholic Church in the 21st century.
The funeral Mass will be held on Saturday, April 26, in St. Peter’s Square, where thousands of mourners, religious leaders, and dignitaries from around the globe are expected to gather. Among those attending are U.S. President Donald Trump, French President Emmanuel Macron, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Despite the grandeur of the setting and the global scale of participation, the funeral service itself has been intentionally simplified in accordance with Pope Francis’s wishes. Rather than the traditional triple-coffin ceremony used for popes of the past, his body will be placed in a single wooden casket lined with zinc—a modest and practical choice that mirrors his lifelong rejection of opulence.
In a striking deviation from Vatican protocol, the funeral rites have also been stripped of certain papal titles. Gone are the ornate references such as “Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church.” Instead, the language emphasizes his role as a servant of God and a shepherd to his flock. The tone of the ceremony, as shaped by Cardinal Giovanni Battista Re, who will preside over the Mass, will be meditative and pastoral, a tribute to the man who tirelessly advocated for mercy over might, listening over pronouncements, and compassion over condemnation.
Perhaps the most symbolically powerful departure from tradition lies in the decision not to bury Pope Francis beneath St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican Grottoes—a hallowed resting place for most popes since the 17th century. Instead, he will be laid to rest in the Basilica of St. Mary Major, one of Rome’s oldest and most beloved churches. This choice is deeply personal. Throughout his pontificate, Pope Francis often visited the icon of the Virgin Mary known as Salus Populi Romani housed in the basilica, praying there before and after every apostolic journey. His devotion to this image and the church itself has been widely recognized as a symbol of his Marian spirituality and his reverence for tradition outside the grandeur of papal structures. By choosing to be buried there, he aligns his final resting place not with the center of ecclesial power but with a sanctuary of maternal compassion and prayer.
This decision also evokes historical memory: the last pope to be buried outside the Vatican was Leo XIII in 1903, who was interred in the Basilica of St. John Lateran. But for Pope Francis, this is less about precedent and more about principle. It underscores his belief that the pope is first and foremost a bishop, a pastor, and a man among the people—not a figure enshrined in power, but one embedded in prayer and service. Even in death, he continues to reject the imperial vestiges that once defined the papacy.
In the days leading up to the funeral, St. Peter’s Basilica has remained open around the clock to accommodate the tens of thousands of mourners who have come to pay their respects. Over 90,000 visitors have already filed past his casket, which rests on the main altar flanked by the Vatican’s Swiss Guards. The Vatican has gently requested that visitors refrain from taking photos or selfies near the Pope’s body, emphasizing that the moment should be one of reverence, not spectacle. The sight of ordinary people—from children to the elderly, from pilgrims to world leaders—standing silently before his coffin captures the global reach and personal touch of Francis’s papacy.
This simplified farewell encapsulates everything Pope Francis stood for. During his time as pope, he consistently chose the path of humility: living in the Domus Sanctae Marthae guesthouse instead of the papal apartments, carrying his own briefcase, and asking for prayers from those he met rather than offering them alone. He once said, “A shepherd should smell like his sheep”—a line that came to define his leadership style. Now, in choosing a simple funeral and a modest burial, he becomes that shepherd to the very end.
His burial is not merely a disruption of Vatican norms; it is their transformation. It is a reminder to the Church and the world that greatness is not defined by thrones, gold, or tradition, but by service, love, and the courage to live as one preaches. Pope Francis’s final act is one of quiet revolution—his last sermon without words. And it may prove to be one of his most enduring.
