Benedict’s cross

Then Pope Benedict XVI was right when he said in February that his then impending depature from the papacy was no flight from the Cross. Proof of this is his continuing crucifixion by critics of the Church and pseudo-fans of Pope Francis. The latter extol the simplicity of the new Pope at the cost of tarnishing the character of the old one. They equate the Pope Emeritus with their own poor notion of the Middle Ages—dark, backward and decadent—and speak as if the saintliness of the new Pontiff is an anomaly among the Successors of Saint Peter.

It is fantastic that Pope Francis is conveying a resounding message of Gospel simplicity to the world by shunning the popemobile, wearing a silver rather than more bejeweled pectoral cross, donning simpler-looking liturgical vestments and choosing indefinitely to live in the Domus Sancta Martha rather than in the Apostolic Palace. Nevertheless, Church watchers, especially Christians, because they ought to suffer with the crucified rather than help those who nail him; especially journalists, because they are supposedly paragons of accuracy, fairness and balance ought to resist jumping to the conclusion that Pope Emeritus Benedict stood for a triumphalism, opulence or tyranny.

Those who take issue with the previous Pontiff’s official and liturgical garments would be well advised to brush up on their understanding of the meaning behind such garb, which does not rest on a taste for kingly style but grows out of the conviction that craftsmanship is a means to suggest the majesty of and give praise to the Almighty. Before those who carp start clamoring for churches without stained glass windows, manicured gardens or intricately designed adoration chapels, they need to meditate on why the Magi brought gold, frankincense and myrrh to the Child of Bethlehem, why Mary of Bethany poured a jar of nard onto her Master’s feet, why the Savior of mankind accepted acclaim from a crowd while making a glorious entrance into Jerusalem prior to his passion and death.

So-called Vaticanistas who praise Pope Francis for being more outgoing and in touch with the people than Benedict only evince how they limited their coverage of the Church to occasions like conclaves, a new Pope’s honeymoon with the media or an archdiocese’s payment of settlement money to victims of sexual abuse by priests. It is easy, since Pope Emeritus Benedict has a staggeringly weighty intellect, to typecast him as a professorial shepherd who was out of touch with his flock. That poor sketch persists in part because there were not five thousand journalists from around the globe who covered the moments when Pope Benedict cried with the molested, ate with and comforted the aged in a home, had to be prevailed upon by aides to spend the night in warmer accommodations rather than outdoors in a winter vigil with hundreds of thousands of youth, or celebrated Mass with children in conflict with the law. And does not launching Twitter, Facebook and YouTube accounts count as outreach? How about authorizing a catechism stylized for young people?

The crucifixion of Pope Benedict persists among those who deride him for being allegedly obsessed with theology when in fact his speeches and writings that point to the Gospel were and are messages that the world needs to heed. “Deus Caritas Est” is timeless source of inspiration. “Love is the light—and in the end, the only light—that can always illuminate a world grown dim and give us the courage needed to keep living and working. Love is possible,” he said in this letter, “and we are able to practise it because we are created in the image of God. To experience love and in this way to cause the light of God to enter into the world—this is the invitation I would like to extend.” “Spe Salvi” is a potent cure for despair. Consider what he wrote: “It is when we attempt to avoid suffering by withdrawing from anything that might involve hurt, when we try to spare ourselves the effort and pain of pursuing truth, love, and goodness, that we drift into a life of emptiness, in which there may be almost no pain, but the dark sensation of meaninglessness and abandonment is all the greater. It is not by sidestepping or fleeing from suffering that we are healed, but rather by our capacity for accepting it, maturing through it and finding meaning through union with Christ, who suffered with infinite love.”

For all the critics’ claim that a juggernaut Church under Benedict habitually imposed its will and refused to listen to the faithful, he was actually the only Pope who wrote treatises that he insisted should not be taken as magisterial, but as an intimate sharing of his own search for the face of God. I am referring to his “Jesus of Nazareth” trilogy of books that should be standard reading for anyone who wishes to deepen their familiarity with the person of Christ. In this book, Pope Benedict set out his philosophy of stewardship of the Church that would have prompted those who thought or think it a community with an deep will to naked power room to pause. If only they cared enough to read and ponder. The Pope said that as he did with Saint Peter, the Lord has to be vehement and tell us, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” when our way of doing things contradicts God’s essentially skirting the path of renunciation and the Cross. We can see in this reflection the root of Pope Benedict XVI’s dialog with the peoples of different faiths and convictions.

In one of his Palm Sunday homilies, Pope Benedict said happiness comes from saying “yes” to the will of God. People will have missed the point if they continue interpret the Pope Benedict’s renunciation of the Chair of Saint Peter as a surrender in the face of the weight of the problems besetting the Church militant. Early in his pontificate, Pope Benedict said a pope does not shine his own light but only that of Christ. In receding into the background Benedict XVI simply underscored that no pope is a master, they are only stewards who serve at the pleasure of a Supreme Judge and Christ alone is the light of the Church and the world.