This meaning existed long before Christianity took root in Rome, giving Vatican Hill an identity deeply intertwined with endings, transitions, and the mysteries of the afterlife.
In Etruscan belief, Vatika was more than just a name; she was a powerful figure connected to necropolises, death rituals, and the liminal space between life and what lay beyond. Vatican Hill itself served as one of many sacred burial grounds where the Etruscans laid their de@d. These were not haphazard graves; they were carefully planned necropolises filled with tombs, funeral monuments, and ceremonial markers. The Etruscans considered the land spiritually potent. It was a place where the living could commune with the spirits of ancestors, where the cycles of life and de@th were honored, and where the sacred and the mortal intersected. The very earth of Vatican Hill, centuries before Christianity, was infused with memory, ritual, and reverence for the mysteries of mortality.

When Christianity eventually rose to power in Rome, it did not erase this older, darker history. Instead, the Church built directly on top of it. Saint Peter’s Basilica and other religious structures occupy land that had already been used for centuries as cemeteries by both Etruscans and Romans. Archaeological excavations beneath the Vatican reveal layers of tombs, ancient burial sites, and even funerary inscriptions that predate the Christian era. The new faith reshaped the city, but it could not, and did not, remove the past entirely. The name “Vatican” persisted. It was adopted and repurposed, carrying forward a word and a memory rooted in de@th into the very center of Christian authority. In a sense, the Church inherited more than land; it inherited a landscape already charged with spiritual significance, one that whispered of endings and transitions even as it became a symbol of new beginnings.