#13 GOOD GRIEF NEWS
The last portrait: What Pope Francis' open coffin tells us about our fear of death
Pope Francis's body is laid out in state inside his private chapel at the Vatican, Monday, April 21, 2025. (AP)
Last week, the news was dominated by the death of Pope Francis and the rituals surrounding his farewell. One particular image stayed with me: the Pope lying in an open coffin. It struck a chord — not only emotionally, but culturally. It made me reflect on how rare and, for some, unsettling such a public confrontation with death has become.
I’m from Germany, where open-coffin viewings are relatively uncommon. Most people I know have never said goodbye this way. In contrast, now living in the Netherlands, I’ve noticed how much more accepted — and expected — it is to view the deceased, either at home or in a nearby church or funeral center. Here it's more often seen as part of the farewell process. While exact statistics are hard to come by, research and anecdotal accounts suggest that home-based farewells and viewings are far more integrated into Dutch farewell culture than in Germany, where professionalized funeral homes and quicker burial timelines dominate.
And the Pope’s public display stirred a wave of unease online. Social media users reacted with comments ranging from confusion to outright disgust. Some called it “creepy,” others claimed it was disrespectful to keep him visible for days. One user wrote, “I’d haunt someone if they did this to me.” Another commented: “It’s really freakin’ weird seeing it. We’d blur out the face of anyone else that passes away—why not him?”
Screenshot of comments is taken from an article by Bored Panda
This discomfort tells us a lot about how far modern Western societies have drifted from death as a shared, visible, communal experience. And yet, in many cultures around the world, an open coffin or home viewing isn’t shocking — it’s expected.
In Ghana, elaborate open-casket funerals are part of rich traditions where the deceased are dressed in their best clothes, displayed for viewing, and even photographed, often surrounded by mourners celebrating their life.
In the Philippines, especially among Indigenous groups, the dead are sometimes kept at home for up to a week, with relatives visiting, singing, and reminiscing.
The dead are a constant presence in the Toraja area of Sulawesi in Indonesia. Centuries-old traditions mean the dead share space with the living every day.
In the U.S., especially in parts of the South and Midwest, open-casket funerals are still relatively common in religious and family-centered communities.
So why is viewing the body so important?
Psychologists and grief experts like William Worden and Manu Keirse argue that one of the first tasks of grieving is to accept the reality of the loss. Physically seeing the deceased helps ground that reality. It confronts us with what has happened and allows our mind — and heart — to begin to adjust. Avoiding this encounter, by contrast, can delay or complicate grief.
Picture by Dutch funeral home Buitengewoon Afscheid, photographer: Britt Roelse
Beyond psychology, it’s also a cultural rite. In the Netherlands, a tradition of laying out the deceased at home allows family members to gradually say goodbye in familiar surroundings. It turns a house into a place of mourning and meaning. I've experienced this myself. I think it's a very humane thing to let someone start their final journey from home. But of course it can also be very disturbing for others to have a dead body in their own four walls.
Open coffin viewings also:
Offer a moment to say goodbye to those who didn't get to see the person before they died.
Help children and young people to understand that death is part of life.
Slow down time and provide a ritual structure in the chaotic first days of loss.
Provide a space for communal mourning, especially when someone was widely loved.
Change the abrupt end into a kind of transition and accompaniment.
Crowd taking photographs close to the Pope’s coffin, via New York Post
Selfies with the Dead Pope
But then there’s also a modern twist: selfies. Most people who walked past the Pope’s body in St. Peter’s Basilica did so in devotion. But not all. A handful of visitors pulled out their phones and posed, capturing a moment with a man who had touched millions.
Media outlets were quick to call it tasteless. And yes, it can be. But it also tells us something deeper. Art historian Katharina Sykora, who has written extensively about post-mortem photography, explains in an Interview with Deutschlandfunk Kultur that this isn’t new. In the 19th century, families regularly took portraits with the deceased — sometimes standing or sitting alongside them, often in their best clothes. These images were not morbid. They were memorials. Proof that this person lived and was loved.
Sykora suggests that even modern selfies, however awkward, can carry a similar impulse. They can be a way of expressing awe or claiming connection. A sign that someone mattered — not only to history, but to me. The image can create a kind of connection to the deceased, but also to the larger group of Catholics or a connection to that (historic) moment in time.
Of course, there’s also a negative side: turning everything into content and an event. But maybe, just maybe, these pictures and the discussion also reflect a deeper truth: We are still trying to find a place for death in public life.
In an age where we outsource grief, hide the dying, and sanitize farewells, the sight of a body — even a sacred one — remains unsettling. But it shouldn't be. Next to that, collective rites of the dead are particularly important in times of crisis such as today in view of the war and the terrible deaths worldwide. We need symbolic deaths in order to deal with our own fears of death. Because saying goodbye with open eyes can also open a door to healing.
💬 Interview
About Being Present: A Conversation with German Death Doula Charlotte Wiedemann
In Germany, where home viewings are still relatively rare, some are working to gently shift cultural norms. One of them is Charlotte Wiedemann, a death doula who offers workshops on home-based farewells and post-death rituals. Her work empowers families to care for the deceased in the hours after death — not necessarily through an open coffin, but through intentional, compassionate presence.
I spoke with her about her first impressions of the Pope’s public viewing, what she sees changing in German funeral culture, and why that short window after death can be one of the most important times for healing.
Death Doula Charlotte Wiedemann, photographer: Ina Niehoff
1. What were your first thoughts when you saw the image of Pope Francis in an open coffin?
I was deeply touched. I saw a human who had lived a good life and left a mark. Pope Francis always seemed humble and accessible, despite being the superstar of the Catholic Church. His body felt like a vessel amidst the surrounding pomp. I appreciated seeing his human side, even in apparent decay, while others tried to hold onto him a little longer.
I understand that people had mixed reactions, especially since celebrities give us a sense of entitlement to opinions. I also feel uneasy about mummies or human remains in museums. It should be everyone’s right to be put to rest properly. But this public display felt personal. People loved him and wanted one last moment with Francis. That felt beautiful.
2. You regularly offer workshops on home-based rituals after a death. Can you tell me how families can engage meaningfully during that time?
First of all, there’s power in preparation, also and especially before death. When someone has a terminal diagnosis for example, that often gives us time to reflect: How do I want to go and be remembered? What do I want to leave behind, emotionally as well as materially? For those of us not yet close to death, it’s still valuable to consider who we’d want at our bedside and what we’d like to say while we still can.
After death, creating a space that feels very personal helps. What scent did they love? What music soothed them? What clothes felt most like them? All of this can be used to create a meaningful and personal atmosphere around a death and gives you opportunities to engage instead of feeling powerless after death.
If the death came suddenly, there are still many healing rituals: writing a letter, speaking final words, placing a photo or object with the body. Seeing the person one last time – if you feel ready – can help the mind and body register what has happened. It can be grounding, even comforting. But it should never be forced. The grieving should always be trusted with their natural instincts.
Picture from the workshops at ahorn, photographer: Marie Dzingel
3. Many people in Germany seem unsure or even afraid of being close to a dead body. What are some of the common fears or misconceptions that participants bring to your courses?
A big one is the belief that the body must be removed quickly because it’s “not safe” or “not clean.” There are hygienic concerns, sure, but often people are simply afraid because they’ve never done this before.
In Germany, you legally have about 36 hours (sometimes longer) to be with someone after they died. That time can be incredibly valuable if handled gently and with the right support. A good funeral home will help you prepare the space so it feels safe and dignified.
We encourage people to pause and really ask themselves what they need. Do you truly want distance, or are you just unsure what to do? Often, once the initial shock settles and the body is laid out respectfully, families feel grateful to have time to sit, talk, sing, pray, or just be together.
4. Why do you believe it's important to spend time with the deceased before they are taken away by a funeral home? What does this time offer, emotionally or spiritually?
I think right after someone has died is such a delicate moment where acting on an impulse can be something that you regret later. When you know that you have more time, you can take a few hours to breathe and integrate, talk to someone you’re close to, try to really feel your initial feelings and find a way to express them, make a plan for the next steps and so on. It’s an essential time that most of us don’t go through very often. We have to allow ourselves time to really be ourselves and trust our intuition around the dead, which can’t happen when we’re stressed or other-directed.
Pictures from the workshops at ahorn, photographer: Marie Dzingel
5. Your work bridges tradition and change. How do you see the role of death doulas evolving in a society that is both aging and becoming more culturally diverse?
I really like the word bridge here as it is the image that I have in mind when I think of our work. We are a bridge between the dying and their relationships, their environment, between the inner and the outer worlds, between life and death, between cultures and spiritualities, between age groups and institutions. Like dancers between worlds. I see our role mainly as an empowering one, reminding the dying that they can die, the living that they can live with their grief, and everyone in general that they can be their own death doula. As the wisdom and knowledge around death is an ancestral and innate one. I see it in my children every day.
6. If someone is reading this and thinking: “I could never do that — I wouldn’t know how to handle it,” what would you say to them?
My answer would be: Yes, you can. We can carry and hold and integrate all these things. Death is part of being human. Trust yourself and people around you. Build a community that you can rely on. Engage with your thoughts and feelings, don’t be afraid of them. It gets better when you start looking. The fear doesn’t go away, but you can make yourself acquainted. And coming to our events is definitely a good start ;-)
7. Looking ahead: What do you wish more people understood about the role of ritual and presence in saying goodbye? What gives you hope in your work?
Working with death daily gives me hope daily. All these wonderful people trying to find meaning, expressing their love for other people - what’s not to love? It feels like being very close to the essence of being human, not to be afraid to cry with strangers, to connect with our surroundings, really creating spaces that are helpful to other people. Offering support in the most challenging of situations. Having a team that accompanies me through the rawest, newest, and yes sometimes funniest situations. Knowing that I will be taken care of when I die. Moving from a feeling of helplessness toward a feeling of empowerment, agency and community. That’s what ritual and presence can do. And that gives me a lot of hope.
Thank you!
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Thank you for reading GOOD GRIEF NEWS, a monthly newsletter on trends and fresh perspectives around death, grief and remembrance. You can see more of my work at goodgrief.me or stefanieschillmoeller.com and feel free to follow me on Instagram.
01.05.2025