When in life the ‘seat is empty’: Holding steady

When a pope dies or resigns, the Catholic Church enters a period known as sede vacante — literally, “the seat being vacant.” There is no pope, no direct earthly authority guiding the Church. And yet, the Church continues. The sacraments are celebrated. The faithful pray. The rhythm of daily faith does not falter.

This moment of vacancy isn’t, at all, chaos — it’s structure holding steady without a single visible leader. It’s a sacred pause filled with trust in the Holy Spirit, in tradition, and in the quiet confidence that the Church remains Church even in the absence of a central figure.

That image resonates powerfully with the experience many people face during personal seasons of transition — after the loss of a parent, the end of a relationship, or a significant life change. These are times when a guiding presence disappears. The voice of a mentor, the security of a familiar role, or the gentle pressure of someone asking “What’s next?” is suddenly gone. The seat is empty.

Yet just like the Church during sede vacante, a person doesn’t stop being who they are in that absence. Life continues. Choices still need to be made. The question becomes: How does one lead themselves when the leader is no longer there?

In Catholic teaching, leadership is never merely external. The Catechism states, “In the depths of his conscience, man detects a law which he does not impose upon himself, but which holds him to obedience” (CCC 1776).

In other words, human beings are not left rudderless. There is a moral and spiritual compass within, shaped by formation, community, prayer, and experience. That inner compass often becomes clearer in times of vacancy — when the voice of outside direction falls away.

The Church’s patient approach to the sede vacante period also offers practical wisdom. It doesn’t rush. There's first a time of mourning. The cardinals enter into prayer and discernment. The world watches, but the Church moves carefully, intentionally. This process is not passive; it is deeply active in its trust.

In the same way, individuals navigating their own “vacant seat” moments are invited to pause deliberately, not to fill the space with noise or hasty decisions, but to allow clarity to arise from quiet. To recognize that guidance is not always a voice shouting from outside, but often a whisper from within.

Authority, in the Christian life, is ultimately not self-made but Spirit-led. And when visible leadership is absent — whether in the Church or in one’s personal life — it becomes an invitation to deepen one’s relationship with the invisible guidance that has always been present.

The sede vacante (the Church’s, yours, mine) is not an abandonment. It is a sacred transition. It reminds the world that we are all sustained by more than any single figure. And for anyone facing a time of uncertainty, it quietly affirms: Even when the seat is empty, we are not alone. The structure holds. The Spirit still leads