Erasmus | A tale of two popes

Critics of Francis embrace the other “pope”, Benedict XVI

Traditionalists take issue with Francis’s relatively liberal style, while finding merit in his predecessor’s conservatism

By J.H. and ERASMUS | ROME

AS WAS CLEARLY observed on April 21st by excited pilgrims as well as television-watchers across the world, only one white-robed prelate appeared on a balcony overlooking Saint Peter’s Square to deliver the traditional Easter message. Pope Francis (pictured) duly chided rich countries over the arms race, called for peace in the greater Middle East and Africa, and lamented the victims of terror in Sri Lanka. The power of such occasions depends both on modern technology and on a centuries-old tradition, which holds that the task of representing Jesus Christ as his “vicar” on earth falls to a single, uniquely legitimate office-holder.

But in the grounds of the Vatican, there are two gentlemen who use the title of pope: Francis and his predecessor, Benedict XVI, who lives nearby in a comfortable former convent. Officially, they get along well. On April 15th the current pontiff called on Benedict to offer congratulations on the eve of his 92nd birthday. But in photographs, Francis looked less genial than usual, and some wondered whether the wishes had been delivered through gritted teeth.

For several years, it has been clear that the relatively liberal, relatively inclusive style that Francis brings to the papacy is triggering a wave of theological and political opposition in many Catholic quarters. And some of that opposition is crystallising around Benedict, who styles himself “pope emeritus” and has retained some of the trappings of his old office, including the all-white garb plus a papal ring and dangling cross.

What is not so clear is how far Benedict himself, and/or people with strong influence over him, are encouraging people to think of him as a counter-weight to Francis. But Massimo Faggioli, an Italian theologian, has likened the present situation to a “post-modern version” of a medieval schism: between 1378 and 1417, two and sometimes three clerics vied for the title of pope.

Recent events have brought the contrast between the two clerics to a head. Benedict’s newly-published essay, blaming the surging sex-abuse crisis on the swinging sixties and “homosexual cliques” in seminaries, was his most blatant intervention since stepping down in 2013. Francis showed a very different style when, in a TV show aired on April 19th, he assured a gay British comedian that “only people who don’t have a heart” would fail to respect him.

For Vatican-watchers, all this simply marks one more episode in a long-term build-up of tension between the two popes, egged on by conservative critics of Francis. It was three years ago that Matteo Salvini, the anti-immigrant politician who is now Italian interior minister, sported a T-shirt with a pun in capital letters. “IL MIO PAPA E BENEDETTO” could either mean “my pope is Benedict” or “my pope is blessed”.

On the ecclesiastical front, four conservative cardinals (of whom America’s Cardinal Raymond Burke was the best-known) showed their hand in November 2016 with a letter that challenged a Vatican document which had promised more generous treatment to Catholics who divorce and remarry.

A few months later, the Benedict camp seemed to offer moral support to that challenge. At the funeral of one of the four signatories, a German prelate who is one of Benedict’s closeaides, Georg Gänswein, read a letter from the ex-pontiff, saying pointedly that God would not abandon the church “even if the boat [is] on the verge of capsizing.”

Whereas traditionalist clerics take issue with Francis over reproduction and sexuality, worldly politicians find fault with him (and see merit in his predecessor) over questions like immigration and the protection of traditional Western culture. European conservatives loved Benedict for his perceived attachment to the heritage of their continent; their American counterparts resent Francis for his anti-capitalism and his embrace of the grievances of the global South. All these impulses have come together in the increasing prominence of a right-wing Catholic think-tank located not far from Rome, the Dignitatis Humanae Institute, with which Cardinal Burke and Steve Bannon, a former adviser of President Donald Trump, are deeply involved.

In the world of Catholic theology, as opposed to its political exploitation, there are those who insist that the Francis-Benedict rift is either exaggerated or being mischievously fanned by people who have little real concern for either cleric. Indeed, even among theologically-minded fans of Francis, some still profess admiration for Benedict “at his best” as a clear thinker and teacher. Michael Sean Winters, a Catholic writer, responded to the 6,000-word essay by calling it a mixture of flawed analysis and trivial anecdote which nonetheless contained glimmers of the “genius and beauty” which characterised the work of Benedict (formerly Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger) at its finest.

And to right-wing Americans who loathe Francis’s aversion to capitalism and embrace of the environment, it can be pointed out that both Benedict and his predecessor John Paul II had some harsh things to say about the unrestrained market. Nor has any recent pope been a fan of America’s military policy.

On the other hand, Benedict has hardly made life easy for his successor.After his surprise retirement in March 2013, he vowed to “remain hidden to the world”. He could have retired to a monastery in his native Bavaria and never said another public word.

Instead, he gave himself scope for future interventions. He not only kept many of the paraphernalia of office but, so critics argue, seemed keen to retain its essence. Many canon lawyers say his chosen title of “pope emeritus” is a dubiously-founded provocation, and that it would have been more correct to call himself bishop emeritus of Rome.

Others note that Benedict’s resignation speech, in Latin, was profoundly and perhaps deliberately ambiguous. He said that, because of his age, he no longer had strength to exercise the papal ministry (munus in Latin). But he then went on to say that the munus had aspects: one consisted of acting and speaking and the other of praying and suffering. Father Stefano Violi, a canon-law teacher, reckons that Benedict was merely surrendering the administrative duties of a pope but not the pastoral ones.

For conservatives who want to present themselves as anti-Francis but loyal (perhaps more loyal than the pontiff himself) to the Catholic tradition, Benedict’s presence in the Vatican city is, at a minimum, a golden opportunity. And Benedict seems unable to resist the temptation of offering that opportunity.

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