Every pope leaves a distinctive mark on the Church, and in the case of Benedict XVI, the extent and value of his legacy will only be fully apparent in generations still to come. He made a remarkable contribution to Christian thought and Catholic theology, but we should acknowledge him first as a lovable and holy man – a saint, in the sense of a man who is now with God. His kindness and his humility made him not just a good pope, but an exemplary Christian.
For all his intellectual achievements, he was a shy person who did not take naturally to the publicity that goes with the modern papacy. He had the iron integrity that came with the conviction that the deposit of faith was worth defending, but in his manner he was unassuming and gentle. His death revealed the extent of the affection in which he was held by ordinary Catholics and by Christians outside the Catholic community.
He came from a family of very modest means; his father was a policeman whose position was problematic because of the threat from National Socialism, which he detested. The culture in which Joseph Ratzinger grew up was very Catholic, that of small villages where religion was not a matter just of the head but of the heart and of common, everyday practice.
He always felt himself to be Bavarian, and in his family and community, religion underpinned everyday life. As a little boy he would play at priests at a small altar with his brother, Georg, with his sister, Maria, acting as altar server. He never lost that simple piety. But his father’s commitment to the Church did not preclude a critical approach to clergy and hierarchy; it was a valuable example.
He grew up in the shadow of Nazism. He was obliged to join Hitler’s military – on an anti-aircraft unit. That experience of a regime which was atheistic and hostile to Christianity – though of course Christians did not suffer in any sense as Jews did – left its mark on him. He knew what it was to be at odds with the prevailing political culture.
One of his earliest contributions to the Church was as a peritus, an expert adviser, at the Second Vatican Council. He was committed to the Council, but he plainly never entertained the notion that any change in liturgy or practice could be justified by invoking the “spirit” of the Council. His nuanced approach to it, based on intimate engagement with its workings, is a corrective to any glib dismissal of Vatican II by reactionary Catholic conservatives.
On the vexed question of the liturgical changes that followed, and particularly the celebration of the Tridentine Rite, he took the sensible view that what was holy once cannot later be called unholy; his inclusive approach was later, to his distress, reversed by his successor.
The hallmark of his life’s work was that faith and reason were reconcilable; indeed, that the one reinforced the other. He himself was extraordinarily widely read and was perhaps the last inheritor in our time of the great German academic tradition. That belief in the compatibility of faith and reason characterised his work as a theologian and later as pope. It is an essentially optimistic view of man’s nature. In his address to the University of Regensburg during his papal visit to Germany, he dwelt, among other things, upon the impossibility of advancing the cause of religion through violence, which, being unreasonable, is unGodly.
The way in which his critics seized on one quote – from a Byzantine emperor, criticising Islam – out of context showed how difficult it now is to discuss serious issues in a culture with a short attention span. Many of those who dealt with him as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith paid tribute to his attentive and intelligent engagement with them.
He continued as scholar even when he had other demanding roles; his three-volume work on Christ, written as pope, was a near-miraculous achievement. Perhaps his most practical work was the new Catechism of the Catholic Church which he brought about under John Paul II; it is a restatement of Catholic beliefs in a clear, accessible format and will be valuable for decades to come.
His legacy is rich – his encyclicals as pope in particular repay close reading. Moreover, he had a knack for reading the signs of the times; he appreciated the scale of the challenges the Church faces in a culture which has largely given up on God. In an address in Freiburg, he called on the Church to detach itself from the world and to remain resistant and uncompromising to a purely secular view of life. It is a challenge we should all consider. Benedict, now as in life, can help the Church remain orientated towards Christ.
Areas of Catholic Herald business are still recovering post-pandemic.
However, we are reaching out to the Catholic community and readership, that has been so loyal to the Catholic Herald. Please join us on our 135 year mission by supporting us.
We are raising £250,000 to safeguard the Herald as a world-leading voice in Catholic journalism and teaching.
We have been a bold and influential voice in the church since 1888, standing up for traditional Catholic culture and values. Please consider donating.