Alex Dimminger (kneeling, in orange) was the youth delegate for the Diocese of East Anglia during Benedict XVI’s visit to the United Kingdom in 2010. On the steps of Westminster Cathedral, he greeted the Pope on behalf of the other young people from the Diocese.
If you only read the obituaries in some parts of the secular media, you could be forgiven for almost thinking that the late Pope Benedict XVI was some tyrannical ideologue filled with anger and venom. Indeed, back in 2010, ahead of his State Visit to the United Kingdom, it is hardly an exaggeration to say that many journalists and outlets would have had us believe that were so. What a stark contrast it was, therefore, for all of us when faced with the reality: here was a man who was softly spoken, had a smile that radiated the warmth and excitement of a child on Christmas morning, and who spoke only of love.
A group of us had travelled down from Norwich (where I was then at school) to Twickenham, where the Holy Father was due to address schoolchildren gathered from all over the country. The usual bored fidgeting of anticipation gave way to an electric excitement upon his arrival, as we all strained to get a glimpse of the Pope. What did “God’s Rottweiler” – as he had famously been branded while Cardinal Prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith – have to say to the children of England and Wales?
“What God wants most of all for each one of you,” he told us, “is that you should become holy. He loves you much more than you could ever begin to imagine, and he wants the very best for you.”
The following day, a large group of young people representing each diocese of England and Wales, dressed in garishly coloured tops, were gathered in the piazza of Westminster Cathedral ready to greet the Pope after Mass. It was a cold September day, yet the shivering seemed to stop as Mass began. Looking out over the piazza, someone held up a sign that read “We ❤️ our German Shepherd”. This was the Benedict we saw as Catholics: the pastor amongst his flock; a father speaking to his children; an attentive Alsatian rather than the vicious Rottweiler.
Again, the Pope addressed us on what God’s desires for us were. “Think of all the love that your heart was made to receive, and all the love it is meant to give,” he urged. “After all, we were made for love. This is what the Bible means when it says that we are made in the image and likeness of God: we were made to know the God of love.”
Looking back, 12 years on from that visit, how has Pope Benedict XVI shaped the future of the Catholic Church in England and Wales? Certainly, for every Catholic in their late twenties and early thirties whom I know, Benedict is the reason we are still Catholics. And for those who have converted, or those who had lapsed and have reverted in the last 12 years, he seems to have been a common factor in bringing people back into the loving arms of the Church.
For those of us who were teenagers, soon to be heading off to university, Benedict reminded us that there was much more to life than pre-drinks, clubbing and (Netflix still being a few years away) DVD box sets. He reminded us that Jesus Christ was a person with whom we could have a relationship, and who fundamentally wanted the best for us. He reminded us that while the world offers us comfort, we were not made for comfort; we were made for greatness.
Through his reinvigoration of a sense of beauty in the liturgical arts Benedict also showed us how we could use our talents for the growth and development of the Church, as well as the sanctification of ourselves and our friends. Meanwhile, for those of us who had grown up on a diet of polyester vestments and “Shine, Jesus, Shine” Benedict opened our eyes to the treasures of the Catholic Church, as he opened the cupboards, dusted off that which had been shoved to the back of the shelves, and reminded us that the Church is not a museum but a living entity.
But more than that, and most of all, Pope Benedict XVI taught us the Faith. Through his many books, essays and homilies, he taught us what Catholicism is: what it means, how it fits into our lives, and how the world can be improved by the reasonable and rational application of the Gospel. He has been described as the Mozart of theology; there is much in that comparison because no matter how complex the theological problem is, Benedict’s writings explain it in a way that becomes accessible.
In 2015, some friends and I were granted an audience with Benedict, by then Pope Emeritus, in the Vatican Gardens. Whilst we spoke about various topics in German, there were two words that I needed to say to him. They were two words in his own Bavarian dialect, which summed up the overriding emotion of my generation in response to his pontificate. Vergelt’s Gott: thank you.
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