Pope John XXII presented the oldest surviving golden rose to a 14th-century count. The rose is now in the Musée de Cluny, a museum of medieval art in Paris. Miguel Hermoso Cuesta/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

Almost every ceremonial object or ornament of the medieval papal monarchy has disappeared or lost its original purpose. Yet one survives: the golden rose.

On Sept. 26, 2026, during Pope Leo XIV’s visit to France, he traveled to Lourdes, home to one of the world’s most famous shrines to the Virgin Mary. After praying, Leo presented a golden rose to Our Lady of Lourdes – the fifth time he has dedicated a rose to a Marian shrine or image.

The ornate rose Leo offered to Lourdes is not that different from its medieval iterations. The oldest surviving rose is now at the Musée de Cluny in Paris and dates from the early 1300s. Both are golden, with several branches and buds.

Pope Leo XIV offered a golden rose in Lourdes as part of a four-day trip to France.

Yet who receives the roses, and why, has changed dramatically.

As a medieval historian researching the papacy, I frequently find mentions of the roses. They are ubiquitous in medieval chronicles – most of all, in papal accounting registers. The history of the roses’ beneficiaries reflects the history of the papacy and how its influence has shifted over the centuries.

Roots of tradition

Most medieval roses were made of gold and silver, adorned with precious stones such as sapphires and rubies. One of the buds formed a small receptacle that held some musk and balsam, rare and expensive fragrances.

The Vatican Apostolic Archives have preserved the accounting registers that itemized many of the roses’ costs. On average, they weighed 11-16 ounces of precious metal and cost the equivalent of 10 years of a laborer’s annual wage.

The golden rose first appeared during the papacy of Leo IX. On April 18, 1049, the pope exempted a nunnery in Alsace – now in Sainte-Croix-en-Plaine, France – from the legal authority and supervision of the local bishop. In return, the head of the nunnery was required to offer the pope a golden rose of some 2 ounces, or of equivalent value. At the time, roses were often used to symbolize a feudal pledge: the submission of a vassal to a lord.

Within a couple of generations, the gift had changed direction: The pope now granted a rose. The first clearly documented case took place in 1096, when Urban II, touring France and preaching the First Crusade, granted it to Fulk of Anjou to reward him for his willingness to participate.

A scene of a man in green and orange robes kneeling in front of a man with red robes and a tall white hat.
A 13th-century illustration of a pope bestowing a golden rose on Laetare Sunday. Musée de Cluny via Wikimedia Commons

From the 11th century on, the pope offered a rose once a year, on Laetare Sunday: the fourth Sunday of Lent, the period before Easter when many Catholics commit to some form of penance. According to ceremonial books called “ordines,” the pope held the rose during the worship service, preached about its symbolism, and presented it to a recipient.

On that Sunday, gifting the rose reminded believers that while Lent was difficult, beauty and joy would emerge from it. The day was also a feast in honor of the recipient – typically the prefect of Rome, who supervised the city’s jurisdictions and police.

Diplomatic tool

Eventually, the decision about who should receive the honor rested solely with the pope. Still, it was always bestowed upon those who wielded power: the prefect of Rome, emperors, kings, military leaders and defenders of Christian lands. Receiving the rose was a public acknowledgment that the recipient – usually a warrior – stood beside the pope in protecting the church.

In 1148, for example, Pope Eugene III offered it to the king of Leon and Castile, Alfonso VII. A century later, Pope Innocent IV gave it to Raymond Berenger, count of Provence. In both cases the pope rewarded the fight against Muslims, whom the Vatican saw as “infidels” or heretics.

The Avignon papacy of the 14th century, a period when several popes resided in what is now southern France, accelerated this evolution. Away from Rome, and in the absence of a Roman prefect, the rose’s role as a negotiating tool intensified.

By the 14th century, the ceremony had grown even more elaborate. According to ceremonial books, the pope carried the rose in procession, while its beneficiary held the reins of his horse and kissed the pope’s feet – a gesture of submission.

A faded drawing of a few dozen people on horseback, with one man in the middle carrying an ornate golden flower.
Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund in a procession with a golden rose in a 15th-century illustration. Chronik des Constanzer Concils by Ulrich von Richental/New York Public Library

Warriors, women – and shrines

Historians can estimate how many people received the rose based on evidence available in the Vatican’s accounting registers and other historical records. Over the years, more and more began to be presented to women, and then to shrines. This change shows the history of the papacy – and of its communication strategy. Simply put, the evolution of the rose followed the evolution of papal power itself.

The first few centuries of the rose were a period of conquests and Catholic expansionism, when conversion often came through war. With very few exceptions, roses were offered to commend male medieval rulers, often ones who had militarily defended Catholicism.

The early modern period saw the birth of the Protestant Reformation and many religious conflicts. Popes looked for support from the era’s powerful women rulers, such as Catherine de’ Medici, who played a crucial role during France’s wars of religion between Protestants and Catholics. From the 16th century onward, roses were often given to women like her: empresses, queens and the wives of high dignitaries.

That shift accelerated in the 18th and 19th centuries, when most roses were gifted to Catholic women of high standing. From 1790 to 1893 not a single man received the rose.

This was a period of revolutions and secularization, when the church could not depend on the military leadership of a king, duke or the nobility. Again, queens and empresses dominated the beneficiaries. With the rose, popes could flatter and honor the wives of important rulers, who in turn could pressure their spouses if needed. Eugénie, empress of the French and wife of Napoleon III, received it in 1856 for her piety and philanthropy.

A black and white portrait of a woman in a black dress and pearls.
Charlotte, the grand duchess of Luxembourg, received a rose in 1956. Library of Congress via Wikimedia Commons

The 20th and 21st centuries saw a total abandonment of gifting the rose to humans. Instead, popes have presented them to shrines and basilicas, typically ones dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The last person given a rose was Charlotte, grand duchess of Luxembourg, who received one in 1956 for her piety and courage during World War II.

1,000 years of change

Today, Leo XIV continues the tradition. Devotion to Mary remains central to Catholic identity in an age when political authority no longer carries the same religious weight. Gifting the roses to holy shrines, images or basilicas separates them from any suggestion of political and religious alliance or favoritism.

The history of the golden rose reveals the shift of papal priorities from political alliance-building to devotional symbolism. What was once a diplomatic gift addressed to earthly power is now offered to Marian shrines: the roses embody faith itself. The recipients changed because the church’s relationship to power changed.

I see the rose as a perfect example of the Catholic Church’s deep understanding and adaptation to its time and its gift for reinvention. Few institutions have managed to keep a medieval ceremony alive for nearly a millennium while completely transforming its meaning. The golden rose is the papacy’s oldest public relations tool.

The Conversation

Joëlle Rollo-Koster does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.


By Joëlle Rollo-Koster, Professor Emerita of Medieval History, University of Rhode Island. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.