For centuries, conclaves have taken place in the Sistine Chapel. Under an image that reminds the cardinals of God's wrath

The Pope is dead, and the election is imminent. In the next few days, the cardinals eligible to vote will gather for the conclave. No one knows who will emerge as Pope. But the procedure has been finalized, down to the smallest detail. It begins with a solemn Mass in St. Peter's Basilica. Then, in protocol-dictated order, the cardinals will process through the Sala Regia in the Vatican's Apostolic Palace into the Sistine Chapel. The door will be closed, and the voting will begin.

For around four centuries, the pope has been elected in the Sistine Chapel. Initially with few exceptions, but since 1878, this has been the norm. Even in the Middle Ages, elections were usually held in Rome. Often, however, they were held in the place where the previous pope had died: in Terracina, Cluny, Ferrara, or Viterbo. And when in Rome, they were not always held in the same place, but in different churches: in the old St. Peter's Church or in the Lateran Basilica. Only during the papal exile in the 14th century were elections held in Avignon.

Towards the end of the 13th century, a stricter election procedure was established. And most importantly, the conclave. After the death of Pope Clement IV, the cardinals needed three years to agree on a successor. Gregory X, who was ultimately elected, decreed that the cardinals were to have no contact with the outside world during the election. If no pope had been elected after three days, food rations were reduced. Until the election was finalized, the cardinals had no income.

Since the mid-15th century, the conclave has been held regularly in Rome – with few exceptions, such as during Napoleon's occupation of the Papal States. Initially, it was usually held in the Cappella Paolina, located not far from the Sistine Chapel in the Apostolic Palace. In the 17th century, the Sistine Chapel established itself as the site of papal elections as part of a further reform. Since the 16th century, there had been efforts to free the election from political influences, but without resounding success. In 1621, Pope Gregory XV fundamentally reorganized the papal election process.

Each cardinal was to vote freely, without being influenced by political dictates or by loyalties arising from family ties. The procedure was strictly formalized. The cardinals no longer voted verbally, but in writing. The election was secret. And – Gregory XV also decreed this – it was to take place in the Sistine Chapel. Beneath the monumental mural of Michelangelo's "Last Judgment": the image that shows how sinful humanity must give an account of its lives at the end of time. This was intended to make every cardinal vividly aware of the consequences of a wrong decision of conscience.

During the election, the cardinals had to step one at a time into the center of the chapel. Each had to cast his vote in front of the altar, facing Jesus Christ, surrounded by sinful humanity, who consigned the good to heaven and the wicked to hell. Before casting his ballot into a chalice that served as a ballot box, he had to recite the ritual oath: "I call Christ, who will be my judge, to witness that I have chosen the one whom I believe should be chosen according to God's will."

It has remained as Gregory XV decreed. To this day, the cardinals elect the new pope beneath Michelangelo's Fall into Hell. And they speak the same words. In the 1990s, Pope John Paul II introduced reforms to the conclave. But he explicitly insisted that the election should take place in the Sistine Chapel. Beneath Michelangelo's painting, he wrote, the cardinals could ideally receive "the interior inspirations of the Holy Spirit": "Here, everything contributes to fostering an awareness of the presence of God, before whose face each one must one day stand to be judged."

A memorial, then. The "Last Judgment" is the largest and most impressive mural in the Sistine Chapel. And the last one Michelangelo completed, almost sixty years after the chapel was consecrated. Pope Sixtus IV commissioned its construction in 1471. As soon as the shell was finished, he hired painters to transform the simple space into what Sixtus intended it to be: a hall of magnificent paintings glorifying the history of the church. The best painters of the time were hired: Botticelli, Perugino, Ghirlandaio, and Luca Signorelli.

Two cycles of images run along the long sides. On one side, Moses leads the people of Israel from Egyptian slavery to the Promised Land. On the other, the life of Jesus is depicted, from his baptism through the temptation and the calling of the first apostles to the Last Supper. One scene stands out: Peter is appointed by Jesus as Christ's representative on earth. As a sign of this, he receives the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.

A quarter of a century after the wall frescoes were created, Pope Sixtus' successor, Julius II, commissioned the chapel's ceiling to be frescoed as well. He didn't commission just anyone, but Michelangelo Buonarroti. In his early thirties, highly self-confident and stubborn, Michelangelo had already proven himself as a leading sculptor and painter with several works. As someone who broke new ground. Not someone who simply accepted orders and executed them. Someone who knew what he wanted.

Michelangelo worked like a maniac. He spent four years painting the ceiling frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. Lying on his back on a wobbly scaffold, the paintings so close to his eyes that he had difficulty coping with the unfamiliar perspective. His cycle complements the frescoes on the long walls, but in a very idiosyncratic way.

The ceiling paintings tell the story of humanity from the creation of the world to the Flood. Interspersed are images of prophets, whose faces reflect the horror of the evils people inflict on one another, and the fear of what awaits them until the end of time. The whole is complemented by naked youthful figures and scenes from the Old Testament depicting violence, fighting, and murder.

Michelangelo's frescoes seem like a sarcastic commentary on the paintings by Botticelli, Perugino, and Signorelli, which depict the history of the Church as a success story. In his bleak view, creation is a colossal failure. Humans disobey God's commandments and are punished for it. No one escapes. Those caught in the flood cling to the ark and try in vain to reach inside. And not even God's punishment can change people's minds: Noah lies drunk on the ground. Nothing more can be expected from this man.

In "The Last Judgment," which he painted almost three decades after the ceiling, Michelangelo took the criticism even further. In the center of the picture, where Christ judges sinful humanity with a threatening gesture, the key that Peter received in Perugino's painting can be seen again. He returns it to Christ, but broken.

Peter doesn't return the pledge as he received it. He didn't take care of it, and the Church is in trouble. A young woman cowers beneath the right arm of the judging Christ: Ecclesia, the Church personified. Perhaps she is guiltily trying to escape condemnation herself. For the cardinals who will elect the next pope, the monumental mural in the world's most beautiful polling station has a clear message: Every person will one day have to answer for their actions. And even the Church will not be spared the wrath of the Judge of the World.