Towards the end of the first segment of our radio program last Sunday
morning, my partner and I directed our conversation to the “first
anniversary of an event that rocked the world.”
In particular, we set up our discussion to an incident that took place one year ago today, on
February 11, 2013.
Glancing at the teleprompter, I noticed that a member of the
production staff was scrambling to look up the event on the internet, to
supplement our banter.
Several news items appeared on the prompter. But news about the piece
of history we were about to discuss, curiously, did not show up.
I kept on rambling about the impact on society of that event,
without yet revealing what it was.
Mindful of the fact that we were speaking to a “secular” audience,
I had to qualify that the incident was a game-changer, not only for 1.2 billion
people across the globe, but practically for rest of the world.
Except for my co-anchor, I got the feeling that no one knew what I
was talking about. So I finally made the big reveal:
February 11th is the
anniversary of the announcement of Benedict XVI’s resignation from the papacy,
a historic event in all respects.
“How could anyone forget,” I
thought.
Sensing that I still had to convince listeners of the need to
commemorate the significance of the date, I argued that there would be no Pope
Francis, a more well-received discussion topic in our program, had it not been
for THAT resignation.
At the back of my mind, however, I knew I shouldn’t have said that.
By saying Benedict’s resignation was a mere “front act” to the
“main event” that was Francis’ election, I became no different from that recent Rolling Stone edition that featured Pope Francis on its
cover. In praising Francis,
the magazine defamed Benedict XVI in the process.
Vatican spokesman Fr. Federico Lombardi strongly criticized that
article saying it fell into the “mistake of superficial journalism, which in
order to highlight the positive aspects of Pope Francis, thinks it should
describe in a negative way the pontificate of Pope Benedict.”
Although I did not actually slander Benedict XVI by trivializing
his resignation to a certain degree, I seemed to have added my voice to a
number of people who think his almost eight year pontificate was not good for
the Catholic Church.
Of course, that is not what I believe in.
In previous writings, I have proudly stated that I was born in the
“Year of the Three Popes”: Paul VI, John Paul I, and John Paul II. More
important than this, however, is the reality that I have lived (or am living)
under the guidance of Three Popes: John Paul II, Benedict XVI and Francis.
It is a given that John Paul II is the Pope of My Youth; his life,
teachings, and example have formed much of what I know and love about, and believe
in the Church.
On the other hand, Pope Francis’ papacy, while still taking shape,
is already making an impact on my life, and the lives of many Catholics, and
non-Catholics as well.
Benedict XVI’s papacy, meanwhile, has profoundly reinforced the influence
of John Paul II’s teachings in my life. I
liken its effect to the retrofitting of a piece of architecture in case an
“earthquake” or the “wind of teaching that may arise from human trickery and
deceitful scheming” may, in a moment of doubt or weakness, toss and sweep me
(cf Eph 4:14).
The Pope Emeritus may have been regarded by some as a
“transitional pope,” an elderly man who simply needed to fill the “shoes of the
Fisherman,” shoes that were too big for just any cardinal, other than Joseph
Ratzinger, to fill.
But much like John XXIII, Benedict XVI wasn’t a mere placeholder.
In his own way (and despite the mudslinging between the conservatives and the
liberals during his time), he revolutionized the Church at a time when change
was needed the most. If anything, Benedict XVI was not afraid to stand his
ground despite criticism or negative reaction to his judgments. His decisions were always guided by a
clear conscience, a conscience examined before God, which made these decisions
beyond doubt.
Benedict XVI was often criticized for decisions that made people
leave the Church, in contrast to the pronouncements of Pope Francis which are
drawing back people to the fold, a very unfair comparison. In fact, the Pope Emeritus, as Joseph
Cardinal Ratzinger in his book Faith
and the Future, already envisioned these defections, i.e., that “the church
will become small,” a church that will go through “the process of
crystallization and clarification.” However,
this “new Church,” despite losing its old glory, “will become the Church of the
meek,” the “Church of faith.”
In spite of this prediction, Benedict XVI exerted much effort and had
specific platforms to draw lukewarm or separated Catholics back to the
faith. For example, his motu propio Summorum Pontificium in 2007, which permitted the
celebration of the Tridentine Mass, was, among other things, an attempt to heal
the schism between the Church and those opposed to the reforms of the Second Vatican.
(Of course, some perceived it as a
step backward, a reversal of these reforms.) He also lifted the excommunications of
four bishops of the Society of St. Pius X (SSPX), a group in schism with Rome,
in an attempt to accelerate talks for healing and reunification between the two.
In 2009, the Holy Father also promulgated the Apostolic Constitution Anglicanorum
Coetibus, which established communities for Anglicans, i.e., members of the
Church of England and the worldwide Anglican Communion, who want to become
Catholic. These communities or “ordinariates” are like Catholic dioceses but
retain the elements of Anglican heritage and liturgy. Some in the Anglican Church perceived
this as a form of proselytism, an act of converting people to another
religion. However, the Pope
clarified that the Apostolic Constitution was authorized in response to
numerous requests from Anglicans or former Anglicans, who did not anymore
believe in what the Communion teaches or stands for. Anglicanorum Coetibus was a big step towards Christian
unity, something that has not been seen for many years.
But perhaps what defined Benedict XVI’s pontificate the most was
his continuing war against the “Dictatorship of Relativism,” which he referred
to as “the central problem of the faith today.” In many of his writings and
teachings, both as Cardinal and Pope, he seemed to take on this threat
head-on.
He called
relativism “false freedom,” a mere subjective appreciation of realities with no
absolute moral truth to serve as a guide. Simply put, people allow themselves
to be swayed by what they desire, by what they deem convenient. Such skewed perceptions have a
profound effect on how life, marriage, and family, among other things, are
understood.
Aware that this is what is affecting Europe, the cradle of
Christianity, and parts of the world that used to be very Catholic, Benedict
XVI initiated “New Evangelization” efforts, another hallmark of his papacy, to
instill a “renewed missionary activity…given that a large number of people who
do not know Jesus Christ, in not only far-off countries but also those already
evangelized.” To modify the
idiomatic expression, Benedict XVI wanted to “teach the old dog old tricks,
using new means.”
Despite his efforts, many did not seem to connect with Benedict
XVI, perhaps because of his intellectual brilliance. Some considered him an old man who
simply could not relate to the young. Others, meanwhile, argued that he did not
have the charisma of his immediate predecessor and successor needed to make
that connection. (Sadly, another unfair comparison.)
Regardless of what has been said and is being said about him,
however, Benedict XVI was a shining light for the Church. Yes, he may not have
been a good administrator, especially with the clerical abuse and Vatileaks
scandals indelibly associated with his papacy. He, however, was able to explain
the faith with clarity of thought, especially during a time of crisis and
confusion. Benedict XVI
was, therefore, very relevant to the Church and to the world.
While John Paul II and Francis are being described as personifications
of the theological virtues of “hope” and “charity” respectively, Benedict
represents the virtue of “faith,” a faith he very much loved to share and to
defend. Even at the
announcement of his resignation, he was clearly imparting a lesson --- a lesson in humility --- to everyone, most
especially leaders.
“Teacher” is perhaps what best describes Benedict XVI. If only for this, he, and his legacy, must not and will never be forgotten.
To be sure, he was able to teach this old dog some tricks, both
old and new.
And if you if you claim that you did not learn anything from him,
I dare say that you were not paying attention.
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