I’ve just finished reading Benedict XVI: Commander of the Faith, Rupert Shortt’s biography of
the Pope Emeritus. First published in 2005, it’s quite a slim volume at 164
pages. One thing that interested me about it was its author: Rupert Shortt
wrote an extremely important, though also rather chilling, book last year
called Christianophobia. That book
deals with the persecution of Christians in various countries of the world and
is well-written and researched. The idea of Shortt applying his keen
intelligence and writing skills to the Pope Emeritus’s life was an enticing
one.
Benedict XVI:
Commander of the Faith is more an intellectual biography than an account of
the last Pope’s life. One section deals with Joseph Ratzinger’s academic
career; another with his experiences at the Second Vatican Council; another
with his term as Archbishop of Munich from 1977 to 1982; another with his time
as Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith; another with his
career as polemicist and author of books critical of modern liberalism, such as
the Ratzinger Report; and another
with the beginning of his pontificate.
The book has been praised for its even-handedness, and it
does try to give both sides of each question it discusses. Yet sometimes Shortt
seems unable to avoid seeing the world through liberal-tinted glasses. He
devotes a great deal of space to the supposed silencing and browbeating of
priests and theologians who incurred the censure of the CDF. He is given
to generous and uncritical quotes from the Tablet,
without acknowledging how far to the Catholic left that paper is. (The Pill’s Robert Mickens is quoted
approvingly on a couple of occasions; this is the man who, as Damian Thompson
likes to remind us, once whined that Benedict XVI was “not a trained liturgist,”,
a complaint that makes it difficult to take anything else Mr Mickens has to say
seriously.) He describes an incident at a papal Mass in Bavaria in the 1980’s,
when a young woman giving a welcoming address to John Paul II departed from her
script in order to berate him about celibacy and women priests, as a “victory
for free speech”. (As if one could not constantly read similar criticisms of
John Paul in newspapers throughout the western world!)
In one passage, he refers to a decision Cardinal Ratzinger
made as “unpopular.” Unpopular with whom, the reader wonders? The next paragraph
gives the answer: “commentators” had apparently been dismayed by it. Oh.
Commentators. Those infallible oracles of Catholic truth. Better fall into line,
then.
Still, the book gives some useful background information
about Benedict’s life and some of his major theological and intellectual concerns.
It contains a useful explanation of the way the CDF actually operates (hint: far more creaking bureaucracy than fearsome inquisition). It is
well-researched; Shortt gives the impression of having read Benedict’s writings
with some care. And he does try to be objective most of the time. (Hans Küng is
quoted a number of times, but Shortt frankly admits that he has a “weakness for
self-promotion”.) It is a pity that the book appeared before Summorum Pontificum and the lifting of
the decree of excommunication on the four bishops of the Society of St Pius X; it
would have been interesting to see how Shortt approached those subjects.
(Though he mentions Bishops Fellay’s meeting with Benedict only in passing, and
mistakenly says that the SSPX does not recognise the validity of papal conclaves
after 1958, he presumably knows more about the Society now.)
He also includes quite a lovely anecdote about Joseph
Ratzinger’s ordination to the priesthood. It took place in 1951, at the cathedral
in Freising. At the moment the Archbishop laid his hands on him, “a little
bird, perhaps a lark, flew up from the high altar in the cathedral and trilled
a little joyful song.” Though not a superstitious man, the future Pope could
not help seeing it as a good omen; a
sign that he was “on the right way.” Many faithful would no doubt agree.
