Old Pope, New Pope

From the January-February 2013 issue of Forerunner.

When Pope Benedict XVI announced his resignation from the papacy, very few had seen it coming. The Bavarian pope cited his declining health as the main reason for leaving his office, stating, "I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry." Many knew that the 85-year-old pontiff's health had deteriorated of late, but no Vatican observer ever thought that he would step down—especially because no pope had resigned from office since 1415, when Gregory XII ended his nine-year papacy. Benedict XVI's voluntary resignation is only the third such resignation in the nearly 2,000 years since Roman bishops have ruled the Catholic Church. 

Despite few anticipating such a move, The Economist reports in a February 16, 2013, article, "The Pope's Resignation: See You Later":

Benedict had been toying with resignation for almost four years. Visiting the earthquake-stricken Italian city of L'Aquila in 2009, he left his pallium, the woollen band that is a symbol of the papal office, at the tomb of Celestine V, a reluctant pope who resigned [in 1294] to pray. In 2010 he said that a pope who became unable to do his job properly "has the right, and in some circumstances even the duty, to resign."

And so he did, retiring initially to the Papal Palace in Castel Gandolfo, and later, once its renovations are completed, to the newly refurbished Mater Ecclesiae monastery in the Vatican.

Considered by many in the media as far too conservative and boring, Benedict's papacy has been reported as having been a failure. The truth is that, overall, his pontificate was quite successful. He steadfastly defended Catholic doctrine, as would be expected from the former Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (known historically as the Inquisition), the Church's doctrinal enforcement agency. He preserved his office and Church against the relativistic and progressive attitudes and ideas that so dominate today's world. Though the Vatican suffered a handful of scandals during his administration, Benedict did not allow them to soften his beliefs or approach. His holding the line against such staunch opposition obviously took its toll on his health and strength.

He has been succeeded by 76-year-old Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, a native of Buenos Aires, Argentina, and the son of Italian immigrants. The new pope, the first Jesuit to wear the papal mitre, chose the name "Francis" in honor of Francis of Assisi because, he said, he is especially concerned for the welfare of the poor. Of Francis of Assisi, Bergoglio once expressed, "He brought to Christianity an idea of poverty against the luxury, pride, vanity of the civil and ecclesiastical powers of the time. He changed history." His admiration for the founder of the Franciscan Order may portend how he will frame his papacy.

By all accounts, Pope Francis is a mild-mannered, soft-spoken man of the people who is known for his sense of humor. He has "a well-earned reputation for holiness and humility," as one writer for Maclean's put it. In the dozen years that he was head of the Catholic Church in Argentina, he never lived in the ecclesiastical mansion but shared an apartment in downtown Buenos Aires with an elderly priest, heating the place with a small stove. He took public transportation and cooked his own meals. He regularly visited the city's slums and washed the feet of the poor, the sick, the elderly, or the imprisoned every Maundy Thursday. In 2011, he did this for newborns and pregnant women.

As his papacy begins, he has not changed his habits in this regard. He has a "no frills" style that endears him to the public yet exasperates his Vatican handlers. Just after being elected, he chose to take the bus with his fellow cardinals back to his hotel rather than the papal car, and the next day, he picked up his own luggage and paid the bill himself. He has refused to take up residence in the papal apartments in the Apostolic Palace, preferring to live in the Vatican guest house, though he has conceded to an "upgrade," a suite of rooms where he can conduct meetings and receive visitors. On his first Maundy Thursday as pope, he continued his practice of footwashing, washing and kissing the feet of twelve juvenile offenders in Rome.

His easy, gentle manner could make some underestimate him. Underneath his plain white cassock and iron cross is a forceful personality that brooks no argument on the tenets of his heartfelt positions. He is solidly in the conservative wing of Roman Catholic theologians, as a disciple of John Paul II and fellow of Benedict XVI. Though holding traditional views on most doctrines, he cannot be said to be a hardliner in the sense that his predecessor was thought to be. His sermons and writings often contain language that makes fine distinctions between theological dogma and measured, merciful responses in light of living in a sinful world.

One of his heartfelt positions—one that could bring him into conflict with certain parts of the Western world—is his left-leaning criticism of global capitalism, calling it a "tyranny" that values human beings solely by the goods they consume and a "cult of money" that makes people miserable. Believing that unbridled capitalism has exacerbated poverty and led to the disregard of ethics, he advocates more stringent controls over financial markets. 

What his papacy accomplishes only time will tell. Despite rumors of its decline, the Catholic Church, 1.2 billion strong, is still a force to be reckoned with, especially in Europe, Africa, and particularly in Latin America, where more than two-fifths of its adherents live. There are already a few signs that this new pope may flex the Vatican's political muscles more than the old pope did—if only in his insistence that Catholics need to live out their faith in the world—and that could make for some interesting times ahead.

A Pope Resigns

On Monday of this week, February 11, 2013, the world was shocked to learn that Pope Benedict XVI had announced his resignation from the papacy, effective February 28. It was shocking, not because people were unaware that the 85-year-old pontiff's health had declined, but because a pope had not resigned from office since Gregory XII ended his nine-year papacy by resigning in 1415, two years shy of 600 years ago. Benedict's voluntary resignation is only the third of its kind in the nearly two millennia since Roman bishops have ruled the Catholic Church (three other popes—Martin I in 653, Benedict V in 964, and Benedict IX twice in 1044 and 1048—were forcibly removed from office).

Speaking in Latin, he resigned during a meeting of Vatican cardinals by saying:

After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God, I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry.

I am well aware that this ministry, due to its essential spiritual nature, must be carried out not only with words and deeds, but no less with prayer and suffering. However, in today's world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith, in order to govern the bark of Saint Peter and proclaim the Gospel, both strength of mind and body are necessary, strength which in the last few months, has deteriorated in me to the extent that I have had to recognize my incapacity to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me.

The Economist reports in a February 16, 2013, article, "The Pope's Resignation: See You Later":

Benedict had been toying with resignation for almost four years. Visiting the earthquake-stricken Italian city of L'Aquila in 2009, he left his pallium, the woollen band that is a symbol of the papal office, at the tomb of Celestine V, a reluctant pope who resigned [in 1294] to pray. In 2010 he said that a pope who became unable to do his job properly "has the right, and in some circumstances even the duty, to resign."

He will likely retire to the newly refurbished Mater Ecclesiae monastery in the Vatican.

His resignation should not really come as a huge surprise. Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger was in many ways a reluctant pope, already aged 78 when elected and thus one of the oldest to take the office. He did not angle for the office when Pope John Paul II died in 2005, but as the right-hand man of the former Pope and a symbol of continuity at a time when the Catholic Church hierarchy desired stability at the top, he was the go-to candidate. He has said that he had hoped that the College of Cardinals would have found someone else for the job, but he conscientiously accepted its will when it became clear.

The media have generally considered him to be far too conservative and boring, and his papacy to be a failure. He has steadfastly defended Catholic doctrine, as would be expected from the former Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, known earlier as the Inquisition, the Church's doctrinal enforcement agency. He would not surrender his office or Church to the relativistic and progressive attitudes and ideas that are so dominant in today's world. Though the Vatican suffered a handful of scandals during his administration, Benedict did not allow them to soften his beliefs or approach.

Since he is over 80 years old, by Vatican law Benedict cannot take part in the Conclave to elect the next Pope, and if he made any statements on it or any overt preferences public, it would be looked upon by Vatican insiders as extremely poor form. However, because of the way the Vatican hierarchy works, it is probably already well known who he would like to succeed him. The public, however, will probably never know for sure.

The press has already put forward a list of likely candidates despite veteran Vatican watchers' warnings that Papal Conclaves are almost impossible to handicap, especially ones that contain "special circumstances" as this one does. Predictions of a "guaranteed winner" should be taken with the proverbial grain of salt. Even so, the following are cardinals that the media have chosen to be on the shortlist of the Conclave's 117 cardinal-electors:

Cardinal Peter Appiah Turkson is a Ghanaian who runs the Vatican's development department. In his favor are the facts that he is relatively young, 64, and that the Catholic Church is very strong in Africa. He may have eliminated himself, however, when he presided over the recent showing of a controversial video suggesting Muslims would soon take over Europe through demographics.

Cardinal Christoph Schönborn, archbishop of Vienna, is a safe 68 years old and was mentioned as a candidate in 2005. He oversaw a cleanup of the church in Austria after its pedophile scandals, and some see this as a plus during a time when the Church needs to clean up its continuing problem with priestly pederasty worldwide.

Cardinal Angelo Scola, archbishop of Milan, is 71 and a confidant of the current Pope. Being Italian and overseeing a big diocese gives him great credibility among electors who desire experience and favor papal supremacy and a continuation of Benedict's conservatism.

Cardinal Angelo Bagnasco, 70, the archbishop of Genoa, is an Italian of strong intellect and political acumen. He is widely known for his scathing criticism of former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi and the state of Italian politics.

Cardinal Norberto Carrera Rivera, 62, from Mexico City; Cardinal Odilo Pedro Scherer, 63, from Sao Paulo; and Cardinal Óscar Andrés Rodríguez Maradiaga, 70, archbishop of Tegucigalpa, Honduras, are also probably candidates due to the fact that they all hail from Latin America, the area of the world with the most Catholics. Rivera and Scherer would take the Church toward a social gospel, while Maradiaga lines up squarely behind Pope Benedict.

Some believe that the electors will have a younger, more vigorous man in mind when they meet in March. Cardinal Timothy Dolan, the archbishop of New York and a media favorite, is only 63, but his views are decidedly left of Benedict's. Cardinal Peter Erdo, of Budapest, is only 60. He is a traditionalist and President of the Council of the Bishops' Conferences of Europe. Finally, Cardinal Marc Ouellet, 68, formerly archbishop of Quebec City, Canada, and now head of the Vatican's Department of Bishops, is a conservative ally of Pope Benedict.

There is no telling who the cardinals will pick when they meet next month, but it is certain that their choice will make his mark on upcoming events.

What Is the Pope Up To?

Pope Benedict XVI, the German-born former Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, is the leader of over a billion Catholics worldwide and presides over a multi-billion dollar empire of land holdings, churches and cathedrals, companies, universities, institutions, hospitals, etc. His representatives, official and otherwise, are in every nation on the globe, influencing policy to the advantage of the Roman Catholic Church. He has hundreds of advisors and assistants, many of whom are among the most learned men on earth. He sits atop an organization that wields power and influence far beyond the confines of tiny Vatican City in Rome.

If he has all this wealth, knowledge, and authority behind him, why did he make such a colossal blunder in his comments at Regensburg University in Germany on September 12? Did he not know that even quoting a fourteenth-century Christian emperor's anti-Islamic remark would ignite protests and perhaps violence as well across the Muslim world?

Without a doubt.

The Pope, who turned 79 in April 2006, has observed the world long enough to be able to predict accurately just how his audiences will react to his ideas. The Vatican, long steeped in both politics and cultural sensitivity, understands the hair-trigger reactions of Islamic fundamentalists to anything even remotely offensive to "the religion of peace" or its prophet, Muhammad—remember that the furor over the Danish cartoons erupted just months ago. If his words, then, were not a thoughtless blunder, what were they designed to do? Why did he intentionally make them? What is the Pope up to?

There are probably at least two answers to these questions. The first is contained in the public response to Muslim demands of the Pope to apologize to the faithful for his "outrageous slander" of Muhammad. In his remarks to invitees to a meeting at his summer residence near Rome on September 25, the Pope regretted that his comments offended Muslims, yet he went on to explain briefly that Christians and Muslims "must learn to work together . . . to guard against all forms of intolerance and to oppose all manifestations of violence."

A reading of his Regensburg speech makes it plain that this was his intention all along. Notice this passage:

The [Byzantine Emperor Manuel Paleologos II, a Christian] must have known that Sura 2,256 reads: "There is no compulsion in religion." . . . But naturally the emperor also knew the instructions, developed later and recorded in the Quran, concerning holy war. Without descending to details, . . . he addresses his interlocutor . . . on the central question about the relationship between religion and violence in general, saying: "Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached." The emperor, after having expressed himself so forcefully, goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. "To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death. . . ."

Here he introduces his real subject, the relationship of reason and faith in religion. Muslim extremists—and frankly most Muslims period—have abandoned reason in their wholehearted devotion to Islam, and the result has been conflict, destruction, and death. On the other side, Western Christianity has rejected faith in favor of rationalism, producing cultural relativism and an essentially godless society. Benedict's speech was designed to steer a course toward the future between the two extremes.

At this point, the second answer to the why of the Pope's intentions comes to the fore. Upon ascending to the pontificate, Benedict dedicated himself to returning Europe to fundamental Christian values in response to increasing secularization. In a May 1996 address titled "Relativism: The Central Problem for Faith Today," he noted, presaging his papal theme:

Today, a particularly insidious obstacle to the task of education is the massive presence in our society and culture of that relativism which, recognizing nothing as definitive, leaves as the ultimate criterion only the self with its desires. And under the semblance of freedom it becomes a prison for each one, for it separates people from one another, locking each person into his or her own ego.

To counter this creeping narcissism, he recommends Europe's re-Christianization, urging Europeans "to open ourselves to this friendship with God . . . speaking to him as to a friend, the only One who can make the world both good and happy. . ." ("St. Josemaría: God Is Very Much at Work in Our World Today," L'Osservatore Romano, October 9, 2002). In early 2006, this theme still on his mind, he reiterated, "It is time to reaffirm the importance of prayer in the face of the activism and the growing secularism of many Christians . . ." ("Friendship with God," Zenit News, February 7, 2006).

In this light, his remarks at Regensburg were a rallying cry to Europe to reject the fanatical, violent faith of its burgeoning Muslim minority as well as the sterile, empty secularism of modern society—and to embrace the reasonable, traditional, and beneficial faith of Christianity. By doing so, he sets up himself and the Roman Catholic Church as sound-minded bastions of European solidarity and strength.

Despite the violence his remarks caused, he has calculated that they were worth the turmoil so that he could gauge, not the Muslim reaction, which was predictable, but the European response. He is hoping to see a shift in attitudes toward the Catholic Church and the papacy to defend Christendom from the ongoing Islamic assault. So far—and granted, his remarks still echo across the Continent—he has seen nothing from secular Europe to give him hope.