Benedict’s reformation

Shock is probably the predominant emotion evoked by the decision of Pope Benedict XVI to resign at the end of February. Given that the last papal resignation took place 600 years ago, it’s understandable that the world has got used to the idea that being pope is a life sentence. Indeed, previous popes seem to have got used to it as well. Some of them, including Benedict’s immediate predecessor, were martyrs to the job, and not entirely metaphorically.

Suspicion is another reaction, less common perhaps but rife in high places. Mr Piers Morgan, himself a Catholic (who knew?), tweeted his suspicion that there was more to Benedict’s resignation than met the eye. This is an insight into Piers Morgan, but also into a certain sort of modern mind that cannot quite believe in such things as modesty, humility, and indeed resignation.

But a surprisingly common response, especially among conservative Catholics and their fellow-travellers in other denominations, is some variation on regret, sadness, or disappointment. Insofar as these feelings arise because the Pope leaves to his successor a number of unsolved problems they had hoped he would solve as the heir to John Paul II, they are justified even if, as we shall see, such hopes were unrealistic in the first place. But there seems to be a still deeper sense of disappointment at play. Not only devout Catholics are accustomed to treating a pope almost as a kind of premature saint. The secular media do it as well, except when they are seeking evidence of his hypocrisy or portraying him as an obstacle to progress. Benedict’s resignation undermines this pious illusion. It is a sign that he is demystifying the papacy in a modest and desirable way. He is saying that while every Christian should aspire to sainthood, being pope is no more and no less a step to it than the faithful performance of any God-given vocation.