Years of abuse in Ireland had left many questioning the Vatican’s desire or ability to deal with the crisis. Cardinal Sean Brady, the most senior figure in the Irish church, had admitted to attending a meeting in 1975 in which victims were forced to sign an oath of silence about the abuse they had suffered at the hands of a pedophile priest. Pope Benedict, distressed by what he heard during his meeting with the bishops, attempted to calm tensions by issuing an open letter in March 2010 to the Catholics of Ireland, in which he said he had been “deeply disturbed” by such revelations and shared “in the dismay and sense of betrayal that so many of you have experienced.” The letter is long and heartfelt, but while the pope stated that he was “truly sorry” for the victims’ grievous suffering, he clearly laid the blame at a domestic level.
This letter signaled a turning point in the Vatican’s approach to dealing with the sexual abuse by its clergy. Benedict’s handling of the crisis must be considered mediocre at best, but he should perhaps be given credit for becoming the first pope to expel pedophile priests from the church, removing 384 worldwide between 2011 and 2012.
There was further turmoil for the church in September 2010, when the head of the Vatican Bank, Ettore Gotti Tedeschi, was placed under formal investigation on suspicion of violating Italian money-laundering laws, and a Vatican bank account containing twenty-three million euros was frozen after the bank failed to disclose details regarding the transferring of funds. (No charges resulted.) As a sovereign state, the Vatican had long been criticized for its lack of transparency and cooperation in its financial dealings. Now parallels were being drawn with the Vatican’s failure to report abuse within the church to the civil authorities, and questions were being asked about whether anyone was capable of holding it to account in financial matters.
The sense of a new impending crisis landed more quickly with Benedict this time, and he wasted no time in creating a new Vatican agency to act as financial watchdog and ensure the Vatican complied with EU and global financial standards. The move was well received and seen as a sign that the secretive state was taking seriously allegations of corruption and money laundering.
Unfortunately for Benedict, it was a case of too little, too late. In January 2012, the Vatican was once again overwhelmed by scandal. In the preceding month, reports had surfaced that Benedict, now eighty-four years old, was looking tired, thin, and weak. So when the so-called Vatileaks story, later described by John Allen as “Puccini meets Watergate,” broke on Italian television, he was in no fit state to deal with its consequences. The leaked documents revealed alleged financial corruption, infighting, homosexual exploits of priests, and nepotism within the Holy See. They were believed to have been exposed not by a conscientious whistle-blower hoping for reform, but rather by those with “personal and political axes” to grind. In response, Benedict assembled a crack team of cardinals—led by Cardinal Julián Herranz, a member of the archly conservative Opus Dei—to investigate the source of the leaks. A month later, in true whodunit style, the police arrested none other than the pope’s butler, Paolo Gabriele.
After investigators raided the butler’s Vatican apartment, Gabriele was duly charged with illegally possessing confidential documents. But leaks continued to appear, leading many to conclude that the web of conspirators reached far wider than just one man—perhaps as many as twenty might be implicated, although no one else was ever charged.
Suspicions about the involvement of more senior members of the curia prompted accusations of a cover-up following the conviction and sentencing of Gabriele to eighteen months in jail and the suspended sentence of a Vatican IT expert for aiding and abetting him. In reality, Gabriele, although a member of the pope’s inner circle, was a man with no real power who had leaked documents written in languages he did not speak. Speculation that he had made a deal and agreed to be the fall guy to save the church from further embarrassment was seemingly confirmed in December 2012, when Pope Benedict visited his former butler in prison and pardoned him for his involvement in the scandal, enabling him to retain his pension, accommodation, and employment within the Vatican.
As Allen noted at the time, “One of the ironies of the Vatileaks saga is that it’s the fact of the leaks, not really their content, that seems to be doing the Vatican the most harm.” The Vatican wanted the story to go away, and to go away quickly. Gabriele’s conviction was the simplest way of publicly achieving this. Behind closed doors, however, Benedict was harboring a far greater concern than he had let on, and so ordered Cardinal Herranz to continue his investigations—this time, in the strictest secrecy.
On December 17, 2012, Herranz delivered a three-hundred-page, two-volume, leather-bound report known as the “red dossier” to Pope Benedict. It in, he detailed the discovery of a network of gay clergy within the Vatican who would regularly meet for illicit liaisons, often with male prostitutes, at various locations in and around Rome. The report also stated that some of the persons involved were being blackmailed by outsiders over their secret homosexual activities. The Italian newspaper La Repubblica later alleged that this was the day when Pope Benedict XVI made the decision that would send shock waves around the world and leave 1.2 billion Catholics grasping for answers.
5
THE RESIGNATION OF A POPE
Waves of thunder rumbled across the sky, the rain came down hard, and the heavy darkness that hung over the Vatican was punctuated by a flash of lightning that tore across the sky and struck the spire of St. Peter’s Basilica. Was it a sign from God? Or perhaps the culmination of some kind of kinetic energy that had amassed across the world in the preceding hours? The symbolism was not lost on anyone, for earlier that same day, February 11, 2013, news of another bolt of lightning had struck straight into the heart of the Catholic Church. Pope Benedict XVI had resigned.
The College of Cardinals and members of the curia had assembled in Rome the previous day for a meeting to discuss some forthcoming canonizations, but there had been a surprise addition to the agenda. Before the other business got under way, Pope Benedict delivered a short statement (in Latin, of course):
Dear Brothers,
I have convoked you to this Consistory, not only for the three canonizations, but also to communicate to you a decision of great importance for the life of the Church. After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God, I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry. I am well aware that this ministry, due to its essential spiritual nature, must be carried out not only with words and deeds, but no less with prayer and suffering. However, in today’s world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of the faith, in order to govern the barque of Saint Peter and proclaim the Gospel, both strength of mind and body are necessary, strength which, in the last few months, has deteriorated in me to the extent that I have had to recognize my incapacity to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me. For this reason, and well aware of the seriousness of this act, with full freedom I declare that I renounce the ministry of Bishop of Rome, Successor of Saint Peter, entrusted to me by the Cardinals on 19 April 2005, in such a way, that as from 28 February 2013, at 20:00 hours, the See of Rome, the See of Saint Peter, will be vacant and a Conclave to elect the new Supreme Pontiff will have to be convoked by those whose competence it is.
One eyewitness at the meeting, Mexican prelate Monsignor Oscar Sanchez Barba, recalled, “The cardinals were just looking at one another. Then the pope got to his feet, gave his benediction and left. It was so simple; the simplest thing imaginable. Extraordinary. Nobody expected it. Then we all left in silence. There was absolute silence … and sadness.”
* * *
No one was prepared for this, and no one truly could prepare for the reaction, but the Vatican did know news of the resignation could not be contained, and so released Benedict’s statement to the media the following day. Rolling coverage gave minute-by-minute updates
; commentators were rushed into news stations to speculate over events during his papacy that might have caused the most conventional man in the Catholic Church to do the most unconventional thing in its modern history. Bookmakers rushed to issue odds for bets on who might succeed him.
The Vatican’s spokesman, Rev. Federico Lombardi, admitted during the subsequent press conference, “The pope took us by surprise. It was a public holiday in the Vatican, so we’ve had to prepare for this important situation quickly.… You will no doubt have many questions, but I believe we need a few days to organize ourselves because this announcement has taken us all by surprise.” He described how the College of Cardinals listened to the short statement “with great attention and with bated breath,” but were not offered the opportunity to ask questions.
The church put on a united front, reassuring its flock that they would have a new pope before Easter, and cardinals began issuing statements praising the pope’s courage and humility but admitting their surprise and sadness. Politicians soon followed with words of support and praise for Benedict’s papal reign.
But not everyone shared their sympathies. Abuse victims’ advocacy groups openly celebrated the resignation and blasted Benedict’s papacy for failing to adequately tackle the crisis of sexual abuse by clergy. John Paul II’s former secretary, Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz, of Kraków, made a thinly veiled critique when he remarked to Polish reporters that John Paul had remained in the position until death because he believed that “you cannot come down from the cross.”
The most common reaction, however, was simple shock. The majority of people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike, was either not aware or did not believe that the Chair of Saint Peter could be abdicated. As Dziwisz implied, it was a burden popes should carry until death. Benedict himself had referred to the role as a death sentence.
HINTS AT A DECISION ALREADY MADE
In 2002 Benedict entered a series of intimate interviews with the German journalist Peter Seewald for the book Light of the World. When quizzed as to whether he had considered stepping down over the spate of child abuse allegations, Benedict answered, “When the danger is great one must not run away. For that reason, now is certainly not the time to resign. Precisely at a time like this one must stand fast and endure the difficult situation … One can resign at a peaceful moment or when one simply cannot go on. But one must not run away from danger and say that someone else should do it.” Seewald then asked, “Is it possible then to imagine a situation in which you would consider a resignation by the Pope appropriate?” Benedict replied, “Yes. If a Pope clearly realizes that he is no longer physically, psychologically, and spiritually capable of handling the duties of his office, then he has a right and, under some circumstances, also an obligation to resign.” At the time of the book’s publication, the majority of readers focused on the “obligation to resign” as a thinly veiled critique of John Paul’s reluctance to step down when he became so incapacitated. Now, with hindsight, it seems just as likely Benedict was referring to himself.
* * *
Describing his election in an interview with Seewald in 2010, Benedict remarked, “Actually I had expected finally to have some peace and quiet.… I had been so sure that this office was not my calling, but that God would now grant me some peace and quiet after strenuous years.” So the same hesitancy expressed upon election in 2005 appears to have deepened into a resolute decision by as early as 2010—rather than post-Vatileaks, as many initially believed. This raises the question: Did something occur in 2010 that tipped the balance away from his carrying out the burden of his office?
To begin even to attempt at understanding his monumental decision, we must leave Pope Benedict and return once more to Joseph Ratzinger and his time as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and then even further back, to his life in Germany.
A SCANDAL IN MUNICH
In January 2010, newspapers began reporting on a historic sexual abuse case spanning thirty years, from 1980 to 2010, in the archdiocese of Munich. As more and more details surfaced, connections emerged that brought the case to the door of Joseph Ratzinger, who—between 1977 and 1982—was archbishop of Munich.
The priest at the center of the scandal was Father Peter Hullermann, who in 1979 was accused of sexually abusing three boys in Essen, Germany. The victims’ parents complained to Hullermann’s superiors and wrote to the Munich archdiocese requesting that he be transferred there for therapy. Although Hullermann did not deny the accusations, letters from the archdiocese did not refer to the priest as a pedophile and did not outline the offenses committed. But they did stress that “reports from the congregation in which he was last active made us aware that Chaplain Hullermann presented a danger that caused us to immediately withdraw him from pastoral duties,” and suggested that he would be safe teaching “at a girls’ school.”
The transfer was discussed during a regular meeting of senior officials on January 15, 1980. The agenda simply stated that a young priest needed “medical-psychotherapeutic treatment in Munich,” along with accommodation and an “understanding colleague,” but Hullermann, referred to as “H,” was otherwise described as a “very talented man, who could be used in a variety of ways.” Ratzinger approved the request, and “H” was admitted to the care of psychiatrist Dr. Werner Huth. After just five days of treatment, Cardinal Ratzinger’s office received a copy from Vicar General Father Gerhard Gruber, which stated that “H” was being returned to full duties in a parish outside Munich. When Dr. Huth learned of this, he immediately informed Ratzinger’s officials, “The risk of reoffending was undoubtedly so high that it would have been impossible to continue doing any parish work. And I explained this to the local bishop.” His warnings were ignored. Huth was so concerned that “he issued the explicit warnings—both written and oral—before the future pope … left Germany for a position in the Vatican in 1982,” but the decision to return Hullermann to parish duties, in direct contact with children, went unchallenged.
Less than five years later, Father Hullermann was accused of abusing more boys and was convicted of sexual abuse in Bavaria in 1986. He was given an eighteen-month suspended sentence with five years’ probation, along with another course of “therapy.” Astonishingly, he was still not defrocked and was allowed to continue working with altar boys until 2008, when the church issued an order that he be moved to another parish and into a role that prohibited his working with children. In reality, he had few restrictions and continued to celebrate mass with altar boys.
Only after the story was picked up globally was Hullermann suspended from his position, on March 15, 2010, thirty years after he’d admitted to the first crimes alleged in Essen. By this point, the question everyone wanted answered was: What did the pope know?
The juggernaut of the Vatican Press Office suited up and went into battle to protect him at all costs, insisting that he bore no responsibility whatsoever. Former vicar general Gruber dutifully fell on his sword and took full responsibility, stating, “I deeply regret that this decision resulted in offenses against youths and apologize to all who were harmed by it.” But the questions remained: If the memos confirming Hullermann’s return to pastoral duties were sent to Archbishop Ratzinger, is it really conceivable that he would not have read them, having authorized the initial transfer of “H” to Munich to undergo therapy for crimes he had admitted? In an interview with The New York Times, abuse-scandal whistle-blower and former Vatican embassy lawyer in Washington, D.C., Father Thomas P. Doyle, refuted the denials as “nonsense,” stating, “Pope Benedict is a micromanager. He’s the old style. Anything like that would necessarily have been brought to his attention. Tell the vicar general to find a better line. What he’s trying to do, obviously, is protect the pope.”
The Vatican’s next tactic was to allege that a smear campaign was being conducted against Benedict, and the press office issued a statement that it was “evident that in recent days there are those who have tried, with certain aggressive ten
acity, in Regensburg and in Munich, to find elements to involve the Holy Father personally in issues of abuse. It is clear that those efforts have failed.” Many considered this to be an insensitive and dismissive statement, one that made no mention of the victims. And the fact remained: if Ratzinger was unaware that Hullermann had returned to his pastoral duties in the community, after repeated warnings from a church-approved psychiatrist, it did not exactly reflect well on his management of a priest he already knew was a danger to the community. Indifference is hardly an excuse when it comes to the sexual abuse of children.
Despite the Vatican’s staunch defense of the pope, new details continued to emerge daily, and by the end of March more than three hundred new victims had come forward with allegations of abuse in Germany. Furthermore, friends of the eighty-one-year-old Father Gruber, Ratzinger’s right-hand man in 1980, reported to Der Spiegel that he had been “asked” in no uncertain terms to take full responsibility for the entire scandal, therefore taking Pope Benedict “out of the firing line.”
Only weeks earlier, Benedict had written an open letter to victims of abuse in Ireland, but now, on matters concerning his personal conduct, he remained silent.
A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE
The year 2010 saw a staggering number of new cases of abuse reported. Sadly, although the particular revelations were new, the problem was not. The Hullermann case not only brought Pope Benedict himself to the forefront of scandal but also further exposed the conspiracy of silence within a Catholic Church that had failed to report pedophile priests to the police and instead repeatedly hushed up their crimes.
When Cardinal Ratzinger became Pope Benedict, he had condemned the “filth within the church.” Now the perceived lack of decisive action was testing the public’s patience. As prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, he had been responsible for handling abuse cases on behalf of John Paul II’s Vatican since 1982. Preferring to spend their energies quashing left-wing factions such as liberation theologists in Latin America, Ratzinger and John Paul could be accused of being, at best, completely blind to the crimes committed, and at worst, the architects of an insidious culture of cover-ups. Whistle-blowers from within the church now felt emboldened to share stories of how they had repeatedly warned the Vatican about both individual abusers and the vast extent of the problem, only to be met with more silence. Detailed reports had been delivered to the Holy See, and still nothing was done. Only when victims eventually found lawyers who would represent them in bringing their cases to courts of law was the church forced to address the issue.
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