The Pope’s Final Days? Vatican Prepares for Papal Funeral , Vantage with Palki Sharma

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In the heart of the world’s smallest nation, an unprecedented moment was quietly unfolding. The Vatican, home to the spiritual leader of over a billion Catholics, was bracing for a future that many hoped would never come: the passing of Pope Francis.

At 88 years old, the pope had been grappling with his health for some time. What had started as bronchitis quickly developed into a more severe condition: double pneumonia and a respiratory infection. As his condition worsened, reports began circulating that Pope Francis himself had resigned himself to the possibility that he may not survive this hospital visit. The Vatican, with its meticulous and careful planning, was preparing for the worst.

In the shadow of these events, the Vatican’s Swiss Guards—tasked with protecting the pope—were secretly rehearsing something that no one wanted to believe might be necessary: a papal funeral. The world watched, unaware of the hidden preparations unfolding behind the sacred walls of St.

Peter’s. The guards, who stood tall in their colorful uniforms, had a singular mission: to protect the pope. But now, they were rehearsing not just their traditional role but something far more somber—preparing for the day when Pope Francis might no longer be with them.

The pope, even in his frail state, continued to carry out his duties, making decisions and taking calls. However, his vulnerability was palpable. His thoughts were turning to the unthinkable: resignation. Pope Francis was considering stepping down, the first pope to do so since Pope Benedict XVI, who had resigned in 2013 due to his own health concerns. The world had never seen a pope do such a thing for six centuries, and now Pope Francis, troubled by his own health issues, seemed to be contemplating a similar fate.

This idea of resignation had been with him for years. In 2013, when he was elected to the papacy, Pope Francis had already written a resignation letter, fearing his health would one day prevent him from fulfilling his duties. That day seemed closer than ever. In his heart, he knew he could not continue indefinitely. The reality of old age and illness had begun to catch up with him.

While the Vatican prepared for the worst, there were whispers about what would happen if Pope Francis did step down or, tragically, passed away. The process of selecting a new pope, known as the conclave, was a carefully guarded secret, a tradition that had remained unchanged for centuries. Only cardinals under the age of 80 would be eligible to vote. When the time came, the College of Cardinals would gather in the Sistine Chapel, where the secret ballots would be cast.

The cardinals, confined within the sacred walls, were sworn to secrecy, and no one outside the chapel would know the results until the process was complete. If a candidate received a two-thirds majority vote, they would become the new pope. If no one received enough votes, the process would continue, with ballots burned to signal the outcome. If the smoke was white, a new pope had been chosen; if black, the voting would go on.

It was a process shrouded in mystery, a final act of devotion that would decide the future of the Church. Yet, as the Vatican quietly prepared for what seemed like an inevitable farewell, there remained a sense of hope that Pope Francis might recover. The Vatican was not ready to let go, and the world held its breath, waiting for signs of his resilience. His legacy, both in life and in death, was still being written.

Pope Francis had shaped the papacy in ways that many never expected. His focus on compassion, on the marginalized, on the environment—these had set him apart from his predecessors. His style was humble, his approach unorthodox, and his impact profound. He had led the Church through turbulent times, navigating controversies, scandals, and crises of faith with a steady hand. His words carried weight, and his actions often spoke louder than anything that could be said. Whether in life or death, his influence was undeniable.

The Vatican’s preparations for a papal funeral were, in a way, an acknowledgment that the future was uncertain. The world knew that nothing lasts forever, not even the papacy. Pope Francis had faced his mortality head-on, preparing for the possibility of his own death and the uncertainty it would bring to the Church. In many ways, it was an act of deep reflection on his part, an acknowledgment that his time was limited. His resignation would not be just a passing of the torch; it would mark the end of an era, one that had been defined by his vision for a more inclusive and compassionate Church.

As the days passed, the Vatican carried on, the daily operations of the Church continuing despite the looming shadow of mortality. The preparations for a papal funeral were just one piece of the puzzle. Behind the scenes, the Church was also considering the broader implications of what would happen next. If Pope Francis did resign or pass away, who would take his place? Who could carry the mantle of such a momentous role?

The selection of a new pope would not be an easy task. Pope Francis had redefined the papacy, and his successor would need to continue his work while navigating the challenges that lay ahead. The Church, divided at times, would need someone who could unify it once again. The world would watch with anticipation, knowing that the decision made within the Sistine Chapel would shape the future of the Catholic Church for generations to come.

In the end, whether Pope Francis recovered or not, his legacy was already cemented. The preparations for his final days were a testament to the inevitability of change and the profound impact one person could have on the world. The Vatican, in all its secrecy and tradition, was preparing for the next chapter in the life of the Church, knowing that it would forever be shaped by the decisions and actions of Pope Francis. His legacy would live on, not just in the annals of history, but in the hearts and minds of the faithful around the world.

Sᴇᴇ Mᴏʀᴇ: Jesus ‘wasn’t called Jesus’ as scientists say Son of God went by something else

Jesus’ name has been through various different translation throughout the years, however historian now claim Jesus’ real name might be closer to the name we now know as ‘Joshua’

Jesus has been known as many names throughout the years (Image: Getty Images)

Jesus Christ probably had a totally different name, experts have sensationally claimed. Boffs reckon he would have gone by a moniker in his native language of Aramaic which would be unrecognisable to us.

It is a far cry from our modern tongue and the name Jesus has letters which were not even used in written language until 1,500 years after the ‘son of God’ died. The name of Christianity’s main figure has been mangled over time after being repeatedly translated – mutating from Aramaic to Hebrew, then Greek and into Latin.

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It finally received an English translation in the 16th century by which time it had become ‘Jesus’.

In Hebrew this name is written as “Yeshu” which is closer to the English name “Joshua.”(Image: Getty Images)

Linguists also claim the surname was not ‘Christ’ and instead would have been linked to his home town of Nazareth in Israel. It means Jesus’ real name was probably actually Yeshu Nazareen. Professor Dineke Houtman, an expert on the relationship between Judaism and Christianity said: “We cannot know for sure which languages Jesus spoke.

“However, given his family background in Nazareth, we can assume his day-to-day language was Aramaic.”

The religious studies boff, from the Protestant Theological University in the Netherlands, said Jesus with a hard ‘J’ wasn’t a name that existed at the time he lived.

Professor Houtman added: “His name would probably have been in Aramaic – Yeshua. It is likely that this is also how he introduced himself. Another possibility is the shorter form Yeshu which is the form used in later rabbinic literature.”

The name Yeshu was as popular as the name Arthur is today. Professor Candida Moss, of Birmingham University added: “Most scholars agree that his name was Yeshua or possibly Yeshu, which was one of the most common names in first-century Galilee.”

Jesus’ lived in a region called Judea that was under the control of the Roman Empire that is now located in modern day Israel and Palestine(Image: Getty Images)

And experts cast doubt on the name ‘Christ’ too. Historian Dr Marko Marina, of Zagreb University said: “In the ancient world, most people didn’t have a last name as we understand it today. Instead, they were identified through other means, such as their parentage, place of origin, or other distinguishing characteristics.

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“For example, someone might be referred to as ‘John, the son of Zebedee’ or ‘Mary Magdalene’, with ‘Magdalene’ probably indicating she was from a place called Magdala.”

Many scholars agree Jesus, who was frequently referred to as Jesus of Nazareth, would likely have incorporated his hometown into his name.