No matter how inevitable or indeed no matter how unexpected, death has a powerful way of gripping the heart and bringing the mind into sharp focus of the person who has just died. Since hearing of the death of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, who was for eight years our spiritual shepherd and father, I have been deeply moved and focused to reflect anew on his impact on my own small story, on that of my generation and on the wider Church.
I was born in Stratford, in East London, and the first stirrings of a vocation to the priesthood did not come until I was in my last two years at Trinity Catholic High School in Woodford Green. At the time, although it was slowly growing, my desire to be a priest was little more than a weak aspiration; it was something I thought about only occasionally. Even as the longing grew, the thought of becoming a priest was initially something I kept close to my chest.
It was an inclination that I shared with a few friends and some priests, but no one else. Not even my family, for whom I feared it might not be something to celebrate. And so no one else knew until the morning of 18 September 2010, when I had the privilege of being chosen to lead the Catholic youth of the United Kingdom in welcoming Pope Benedict XVI to our country on the steps of Westminster Cathedral, after the great mass that he celebrated there.
I had witnessed with growing joy the galvanising effect of the papal visit from Glasgow and Twickenham. Excited for the opportunity to welcome the Pope, I had played the scene in my head hundreds of times: how to stand; what to say; how to greet him. However, the rigid rehearsed gestures and protocol melted away when just seconds in I saw something that I had simply not anticipated. The Vicar of Christ, the Successor of Peter, the Servant of the Servants of God – he was smiling at me.
Pope Benedict was looking back at me with a gentle, incessant smile that seemed to beckon me to keep going and say more. He often referred to the Christian faith as not being reducible to a philosophy or an ethical idea, but an encounter or an event. He lived something of that spirit of encounter in that moment, as deep within me the much-rehearsed words were given permission to become flesh and the encounter became both alive and life-giving.
When all was said and done it was time to shake his hand, or perhaps kiss his ring, or maybe simply bow. Once again protocol gave way: bizarrely, above all, I remember the softness of his face as we embraced. Moments later it was time to take pictures. At that point he asked me about myself, and I for the first time I told someone whom I had never met that I thought I might be being called to the priesthood. He wasted no time in assuring me of his prayers, but that I thought would be that.
I confess that at the time I did not know much about his writings, theology or world influence; but even in his address in response to my welcome to him there was an introduction to his clear thought, profound faith and personal conviction about the love of God in Christ. Needless to say, my love for the Church grew; my sense of vocation grew with it and developed into an active desire for the priesthood.
Just a few years later I would find myself studying for the priesthood at St Mary’s College, Oscott, near Birmingham. Seminarians could sometimes be divided by something small like breakfast menus or something big like liturgy – with heated discussions late into the night, as you might imagine – but one thing that I can safely say united us was a love for the teachings and writings of Pope Benedict.
“Jesus, I love you!” The beauty and depth of his work made us love Jesus more. I would read Pope Benedict’s Jesus of Nazareth every Lent as my meditation and preparation for the celebration of the Easter Liturgies. I would choose this again and again because I found that his approach was compelling, comprehensive and clear. He lacked the charisma of St John Paul II and personality of Pope Francis, but when you read his works you realise that above all this was a man of prayer and profound love.
My generation of brother priests are those who sprang up buoyant from “the Benedict Bounce”: a phenomenon associated with the papal visit which breathed fresh life into the Catholic Church in Britain. It is all the more compelling that on face value alone it was nothing exterior that intrigued us about Pope Benedict, which we might typically have associated with celebrities. It was his gentleness and warmth, together with his phenomenal mind and beautiful theology, that spoke to us of his heart of prayer. He was holy man and, ultimately, holiness is the most attractive thing in the world.
Fr Paschal Uche is a priest of the Diocese of Brentwood. In 2010 he welcomed Pope Benedict XVI at Westminster Cathedral on behalf of the young Catholics of the United Kingdom.
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