The Gift of Joseph Ratzinger
The Gift of Joseph Ratzinger
Jayd Henricks
Every pope has historical significance, if for no other reason than he is a bridge between the faithful of his time and the Church of the first century. The very fact that a man occupies the Chair of Peter is a reminder of the historical origins of the Church. He is a reminder that Christ lived among us and established a hierarchy, with a Vicar of Christ, in service to the faithful.
Nonetheless, there are popes who are more than a bridge. There are popes who have been gifted with talents, bound within particular personalities and circumstances, that shape the Church beyond a specific moment. Among these popes are men like Leo the Great, Gregory the Great, Leo XIII and John Paul II. With the recent death of Benedict XVI, I have been reflecting on his life and contributions to the Church and, more and more, I think that he belongs in the conversation about the great popes. I am also convinced that his life and works are as much a gift to the Church now as they were during his life. A reaffirmation of Joseph Ratzinger’s life and work is part of what the Church needs now.
To assist in my reflections, I revisited Peter Seewald’s remarkable two-volume biography on the life and contributions of Joseph Ratzinger, Benedict XVI: A Life (see Volume 1 and Volume 2). This is a biography in the fullest and most enjoyable sense. In its roughly 1,000 combined pages, the biography chronicles the facts of Joseph Ratzinger’s life and contextualizes them so they can be properly understood. Seewald does a masterful job portraying the life of Joseph Ratzinger, a talented intellect writing from the heart of the Church, directed by circumstances, limited by personality, all the while possessed by profound humility and faith. At no point does the story get dull. And at no point does the story get lost.
Among Seewald’s great achievements is how he dispels the myth—a gross mischaracterization—that Joseph Ratzinger was a backward-looking conservative closed to the world and closed to a renewal of Church life in light of modern times. This caricature was created and continues to be propagated for ideological reasons, but it belies reality. In fact, the 35-year-old Ratzinger was a leading source of energy and vision behind Vatican II, providing essential intellectual tools for what was then perceived as the “progressive” wing of the Church’s episcopacy. His humble, quiet, penetrating work helped open the windows of the Church, which John XXIII called for when he convened the Council. As Seewald recounts, quoting a colleague of Joseph Ratzinger from the time of the Council about the impact of Ratzinger’s work, “instead of the old negative ‘anti’, a new positive hope emerged to abandon the defensive and to think and act in a positively Christian way. The spark had been lit” (Vol. 1, p. 404).
Pope John XXIII endorsed a vision of the Council described by Cardinal Frings in a speech written completely by the young Ratzinger. The Pope commented to Cardinal Frings about the speech, which described the purpose of the Council, “You have said everything that I’ve thought and wanted to say, but was unable to myself” (Vol. 1, p. 361). There are other examples of Ratzinger’s direct input into the Council, including the drafting of key documents, most especially Dei Verbum, that provide definitive proof that the future pope understood the Council from its heart. While it is difficult to overstate his influence at the Council itself, just as important is his work to properly implement and interpret the Council. As Ratzinger himself said near the end of his life regarding the implementation of Vatican II, “To make clear what we really want and what we don’t want. This is the task I have undertaken since 1965” (Vol. 1, p. 463).
Seewald goes on to describe in more detail how the young Ratzinger shaped the culture and immediate fruit of the Council. In this respect, it is clear that Joseph Ratzinger, as theologian, cardinal, and eventually pope, was an authoritative interpreter of Vatican II—much more so than many who claim that mantle today. Just as we should read the Church Fathers to understand the mindset of the early Church, Joseph Ratzinger should be read if we want to understand Vatican II. In fact, Ratzinger is so necessary a guide that I think it can be said that those who reject Ratzinger/Pope Benedict XVI will inevitably repudiate a genuine understanding of the Council.
Other examples of Ratzinger’s/Pope Benedict’s forward thinking are many. Seewald describes in important detail how, as Prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith and, later, as pope, he advanced the Church’s relationship with the Jewish people. There was a similar shift relative to ecumenism and interfaith dialogue, which he promoted throughout his academic work, his time at the CDF, and as pope.
We also learn of how Ratzinger took more aggressive action at the CDF against priests who failed in their vows of chastity. Clericalism protected too many priest abusers in the 1970’s, 1980’s, and beyond. Unquestionably more could have been done, but at the time he did more to change a mindset within the Vatican regarding the brewing abuse scandal than anyone else in Church leadership. This would not have been possible had Ratzinger been stuck in an institutional mindset.
And, of course, there was the resignation of the papacy. No protectionist pope would have acted so radically. We learn from Seewald’s many hours of conversation with Cardinal Ratzinger, then Pope Benedict XVI, and finally the pope emeritus, that the simple worker in the vineyard, as he described himself, understood the gravity of the decision and its possible consequences. It was a decision that was the fruit of much prayer and wrestling with the growing awareness of his own limitations. It was ultimately an act of faith born from a humility that desired Christ and His Church to increase and the person of Ratzinger to decrease. Nonetheless, it was a radical decision that may ultimately change the papacy forever.
All of this is evidence of Ratzinger’s docility to the Holy Spirit. His openness to the Spirit doing something new, however, was never a rejection of the past but a development of it; it gave prophetic insight into where society and the Church were headed. Back in the early 1960’s, Ratzinger anticipated the three great influencers on the world to be globalization, technology, and faith in science. This penetrating insight has without a doubt proven to be true.
His critique of the Church at this time was no less prescient. He criticized “the narrow-mindedness, scholastic manner of many formulations [that] will repel people rather than attract new believers” (Vol. 1, p. 366). He went on to say, “[I was] of the opinion that scholastic theology, as it had been set, is no longer a means fit to bring the faith into the language of the time. The faith must get out of this armour, adopt a new language, and be more open to the present situation. So there must also be greater freedom in the Church” (Vol. 1, p. 377). This made him a progressive, unquestionably forward thinking. And yet his criticism of the radicalization of the left was no less severe and grew over the years.
While early in his career he happily collaborated with prominent progressives and advocates of the “Nouvelle Théologie,” and others like Karl Rahner and Hans Küng, he later admitted that many of the progressives with whom he shared a common vision for the Church went too far and eventually separated themselves from the Church. The openness of the Council was hijacked for ideological interests that turned the Church against herself. What happened after the Council, he regrets, was not an authentic realization of the Council. “We realized that something new which we wanted had been destroyed” (Vol. 1, p. 435). Ratzinger insists he did not change, but rather the progressives around him did.
He observed that after the Council there was a growing “exaggeration of an indiscriminate openness to the world” (Vol. II, p. 167). This “hermeneutic of discontinuity” contrasted with the “hermeneutic of reform,” which was rooted in “the [dynamism] of love, emanating from Christ as the energy to change” (Vol. II, p. 86). The “real Council,” as he described it, was rooted in something much deeper than the Zeitgeist. As an example, Ratzinger criticized the new emphasis on current opinion:
“The formula ‘we are church’…has got a remarkably sectarian meaning: the radius of this ‘we’ often only embraces the current small group of like-minded people, who then use ‘we’ to claim a kind of infallibility…for it is only true if the ‘we’ includes the community of all believers, not just those of today but from all through the centuries. In this ‘we’, the ‘I’ of Christ is implied, which is what has gathered us together as ‘we.’” (Vol. II, p. 68)
These words have as much resonance today as they did when they were first offered in 1971.
Clearly the most obvious and powerful characteristic of Ratzinger was his intellect, which reflects his episcopal motto, “Cooperatores Veritatis” (Cooperators of the Truth). His clarity in thought and his ability to penetrate and communicate the mysteries of the faith were rare for a theologian, much less a bishop or pope. Even his strongest critics admit to the man’s extraordinary intellect, which he placed fully at the service of the Church. He was, perhaps, as Seewald claims, “the greatest theologian ever to sit on the Chair of Peter.” He employed his intellect to demonstrate time and again that faith and reason were not in conflict. To borrow the image from John Paul II, faith and reason were two wings of a dove that enabled the human soul to rise above itself and participate in the life of God. This is what is often missed in biographies of Joseph Ratzinger. His intellect was not a tool for the abstract, but a way to encounter God. For the rare man like Pope Benedict XVI, the intellect serves a practical end, perhaps the most practical end: communion with our Heavenly Father.
His love for Christ, which was made evident time and again in his writings, but perhaps most forcefully in his trilogy on the life of Christ that was published during his pontificate, was animated by his love for the Church. The great Jesuit theologian, Henri de Lubac, inspired the young Ratzinger to love the Church as the mystical body of Christ. This fundamental insight is a thread running through his writings and his life, even though he was acutely aware of the Church’s failings on a human level. As Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Ratzinger saw the worst of the Church’s failings and yet he remained firm in his faith. He remained faithful because he never stopped loving the Church. He was a reformer of the Church because he loved her. As Ratzinger said, “we should have the courage to look at the church with the eyes of love, in order to rejuvenate and renew it through love’s real reforming power” (Vol. II, p. 76).
Of course his time as prefect and then as pope were intimately connected to John Paul II. It is the great Polish saint who recognized Ratzinger as a gift for the universal Church and called him to Rome. Ratzinger as Prefect for the Doctrine of the Faith served as John Paul II’s closest and most valuable collaborator. Nonetheless, the two men were very different in temperament. A smooth transition from the Polish pope to the German pope could not have been expected; still, the world embraced the quiet academic as pope. It is a reminder that there is no one personality that attracts. What attracts is authenticity and love, both of which were possessed in different ways by the two popes.
While the Seewald biography is clearly a celebration of an extraordinary life, it does not shy away from the weaknesses of Ratzinger. His leadership as an academic, a bishop, as prefect and then finally as pope was handicapped by a personal disposition that trusted others too much, was too loyal, and often approached decisions passively, allowing situations to develop and resolve themselves for good or bad. He also lacked a self-confidence that is typically the starting point for successful leadership.
A clear failure of Benedict was his loyalty to Cardinal Bertone as Secretary of State. According to Seewald, Bertone was ill-equipped to serve this critical role and he dragged down Benedict’s pontificate unnecessarily. Time and again Pope Benedict was advised to replace Bertone, but the German pope was loyal to his friend and refused. Benedict argued, in part, that Bertone was as good as anyone else and mistakes would always be made. The lack of good administrative leadership from Bertone led to a series of missteps that could have been avoided with a stronger, more competent hand overseeing the day-to-day operations of the curia. Nonetheless, Benedict faced each episode directly, preserving the main work of his pontificate.
An especially unique part of this biography is Seewald’s access to Benedict as pope emeritus. The author had direct access to Pope Benedict XVI in his retirement and was able to ask questions about his pontificate distanced from the demands of the office. While he avoided any questions that would suggest criticism of Pope Francis, the pope emeritus spoke freely about his years in Germany and Rome, clearly with nothing to hide. He admitted his own limitations, which always weighed on him heavily, and which eventually led to his decision to abdicate the Chair of Peter. In this admission the pope emeritus insisted that he did not retire due to a desire to escape the challenges of the office, but due to his prayerful judgment that he could not give the office the energy it needed in its modern expression.
For anyone who wishes to understand the Catholic Church from the period of the Second Vatican Council to the present time, I cannot recommend the Seewald biography enough. It reminds me just how much Joseph Ratzinger contributed to the Church—he was and is a gift for which we should always be grateful. What we need now, as much as ever, are Ratzinger’s theological insights and his example of faithful service to the Church.
Jayd Henricks is the president of Catholic Laity and Clergy for Renewal. He served at the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops for eleven years and holds a STL in systematic theology from the Dominican House of Studies. He has written extensively on the Church in America.