THE signs have been evident for some time — a pope no longer in
control, unable to act decisively, resulting in embarrassing publicity
and a leader showing increasing signs of being overwhelmed by the
problems of a Church in deep crisis.The most telling phrase in the statement from the Pope himself — that he was forced to recognise his “incapacity to govern” — is indicative of a problem bubbling beneath the surface in the Vatican for at least two years.
Leaving aside the question of whether any one man, in the modern world which has undergone a communications revolution, can govern a global organisation with more than 1.1bn members, this Pope seemed ill at ease from the outset since his election in 2005.
Supporters would say it was his misfortune to come after Karol Wojtyla who, as John Paul II, had the second longest pontificate (26 years) in the history of the Catholic Church. Enormously popular, the Polish pope left a legacy that amounted to a template his successor was always going to be find it hard to match.
Age was against Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger when the white smoke from the Sistine Chapel signalled his election. And then the problems which had festered during the long reign of John Paul II, especially the scandal of clerical sexual abuse, burst on an unsuspecting public and caused widespread shock and dismay, not least here in Ireland.
The goodwill, along with the moral credibility and capital that John Paul II accumulated during his long time as pope, evaporated very quickly as the full dimensions of the clerical sex abuse scandals entered the public domain. In a very short space of time the Church faced a crisis of credibility, with the authority of the papacy itself on the line (as we saw in the reaction to the Pope’s letter to Irish Catholics following the publication of the Ryan and Murphy Reports). And the situation wasn’t helped by a succession of miscalculations— and that’s a polite word — by Pope Benedict XVI.
His speech at the University of Regensburg in 2006, in which he used a quote describing Mohammed’s teachings as “evil and inhuman”, prompted worldwide protests from Muslims. In Apr 2007, the Vatican consigned Limbo to oblivion after the Pope had authorised the publication of a 41-page document.
Then in March, in a Roman suburb, Benedict XVI used a Mass to remind Catholics that hell was still there and commentators picked on the sermon to emphasise that fire-and-brimstone was part of the pontiff’s push for a back-to-basics Catholicism.
However, it is arguable the greatest damage to the pope’s credibility, and to the ecumenical movement launched at Vatican II (1962-65), came from a claim by the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith that the Protestant churches of the 16th century Reformation were not churches “in the proper sense” but were “ecclesiastical communities”.
Approved by the Pope, this document repeated assertions (deeply offensive to Protestant church leaders) made by the Congregation seven years previously (when Joseph Ratzinger was its head) in a highly controversial publication entitled Dominus Iesus.
All of this came just days after the Pope announced he was relaxing restrictions on the Tridentine Latin Mass (dating from the 16th century), a move seen as yet another row-back on the progressive work of Vatican II.
It is in his betrayal of the reforms of this council that Joseph Ratzinger most closely resembles his Polish predecessor. For nearly 20 years they worked hand-in-glove, and their central policy was to turn back the clock on Vatican II which, in its redefinition of the Church as the “people of God” and its concept of “collegiality”, challenged the traditional model of a clerically dominated church with the Pope as absolute leader at the top of a carefully constructed pyramid.
At the very end of this pyramid were the laity — whose role was simply to pray, pay, and obey. That had been challenged at Vatican II and Rome’s authority suffered a serious blow in July 1968, when millions of Catholic couples around the world opted to ignore Pope Paul VI’s anti-contraception encyclical Humanae Vitae.
Not all of the moral authority that Karol Wojtyla and Joseph Ratzinger could muster could repair the damage done by that encyclical. Papal authority has never been the same since, and a recognition of this has undoubtedly contributed to Benedict XVI’s surprise decision to abdicate.
He now leaves the Church in a situation unprecedented in modern times. By his decision to abdicate on Feb 28, he has made a piece of papal history, though not in the way he would have wished.
Benedict was pope for life but he has now chosen a different path. From the end of February on, he will be a pope-in-retirement. The title will remain but the status and authority will be gone. All that goes with that will pass to his successor.
Who that will be is anyone’s guess at this stage. The electoral college is small (only cardinals under the age of 80 are entitled to vote), but when the Conclave opens any predictions are hazardous. Given the way John Paul II and Benedict XVI have stacked that college with carefully chosen conservatives, the smart money would be on a clone of the Polish and German popes.
This time, however, when the cardinals assemble in the Sistine Chapel, they will be acutely aware that the stakes are very high indeed. The command-and-control brand of Catholicism that has characterised the papacy since 1978 is no longer appropriate in the 21st century, especially in the context of an enlightened and also largely disillusioned laity.
Since the end of the Second Vatican Council in 1965 the Church has been deeply divided over two blueprints — a “people’s Church” (the legacy of Vatican II) and a clerical Church dominated by a monarchical papacy.
The biggest decision the next pope will face is which blueprint to adopt. He must face what former President Mary McAleese described as “the opaque incoherence of a Church in crisis” — and failure to do so will mean the crisis will merely be prolonged and exacerbated.