Two days ago, I wrote a post about the case of Stephen Kiesle, a child molester and priest who was convicted in 1978 of tying up two boys and having sex with them. Kiesle then wanted out of the priesthood, and the bishop of Oakland, California, couldn’t have agreed more. And so a correspondence with Rome began.
Correspondence may not be the word—it was really a written monologue directed at Rome. True, there was an early response asking for more documents, but then… nothing. Oakland wrote several letters over the years, pointing out the conviction, stressing the potential for scandal. Finally, the answer came. Evoking the good of the church, the common good, the need for pastoral care for the priest / molester, Ratzinger said no deal.
Two years later, the priest was finally defrocked. He then went on to molest again, and eventually served prison time. He lives now as a registered sex offender.
I am, as you can see, fascinated by the character of this man, Joseph Ratzinger, whose life story seems to be one of finding himself in events or times saturated with evil, and dealing ambiguously with it.
His biographer points out that he grew up in a heavily Catholic town with virulent anti-Semitism. He is inducted into the Hitler Youth—it was mandatory—and also, later, into the army. He doesn’t fire a shot in the army, nor was he particularly active in the Hitler Youth. Nor does he resist, though the Nazis had seized and murdered his cousin, a 14 year-old child with Down’s syndrome.
Later, he’s teaching at the same university as Hans Küng, the prominent theologian who has at times been a thorn in the Catholic Church’s side. Küng describes Ratzinger as initially liberal, until the student turmoil of the sixties. Students rushed in protest into his classroom; the rigid German, Ratzinger, was appalled by their demands, their conduct, their clothes and grooming.
He steps onto a path that will take him into an increasingly more rigid, repressed, authoritarian, absolute world. Finally, at the end of his life, he confronts evil again, as each week he reads the reports of the sex abuse in his church. And he knows, better than anyone, the magnitude of the problem because he’s given the order: all cases of sexual abuse come to his desk.
Given this fascinating, if rigid, man, I was of course watching via YouTube Ratzinger boarding the helicopter that would take him to Castel Gandolfo. And I was reading the comments as well, one of which was adulatory: you’ve been the best pope ever, thank you, Benedict, for your wonderful service to the church.
I had just written of the Kiesle affair, and had spent the morning reading the letters the diocese had sent and the reply that—after years of silence—Ratzinger had sent. So I posted a comment back, disagreeing, and giving as much of the Kiesle story as I could, in 150 characters or less (I used all but three).
There was—you’re expecting this, right?—the predictable response. I was accused of spreading lies and distortions. That I expected. What lifted the eyebrows was the sentence, “nobody has done more for ridding the Catholic Church of homosexual filth than Benedict.”
True, in a way. Very early on, Ratzinger made it clear to the seminaries—check out those guys. Any seminarian who won’t toe the line, who won’t play by the rules, who comes out and says, “hey, I’m gay—so?” is out. It was back to the fifties—a time of clear, unambiguous repression.
I could have responded, pointing out that I had spent most of the morning reading the documents of the Kiesle affair, but instead I deleted the comment—from my computer, at least. Mentally, it rankled for a day or two.
Today, I read that the redoubtable Andrew Sullivan has blogged that Ratzinger is gay. No, not that he’s acting on it, but that he is innately gay, and has spent a lifetime repressing it. And he offers several clues that this may be true—Ratzinger’s voice, his scrupulous… but wait, Sullivan does it much better than I. Here he is on the subject.
At times, it seems to me, his gayness is almost wince-inducing. The prissy fastidiousness, the effeminate voice, the fixation on liturgy and ritual, and the over-the-top clothing accessories are one thing. But what resonates with me the most is a theology that seems crafted from solitary introspection into a perfect, abstract unity of belief. It is so perfect it reflects a life of withdrawal from the world of human relationship, rather than an interaction with it.
Sullivan wrote these words in 2010. Today, in 2013, he writes:
The damage Benedict XVI has done to the Catholic church and the papacy may be far from over. All I can say about yesterday’s developments is that they seem potentially disastrous and also indicative to me of something truly weird going on underneath all of this.
Well, it has to be said, there is something strange about a man who, reportedly, has never much liked the Vatican and—equally reportedly—misses his family and native land who then decides to stay in the Vatican. Why? His will be a life of seclusion and prayer; he is withdrawing and giving his absolute obedience to the new pope. Wouldn’t it be prudent to do that many hundred miles away, in a land that speaks his language, where his brother is at hand to chat with, to reminisce, to remember the happy days of a Nazi childhood?
Or is he staying around because of this?
Yes, this hunk, Padre Georg, has been the personal secretary of the previous pope for some time—they met when Ratzinger was head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. And now, it seems that this ex-pope, who is now in seclusion, praying for the welfare of his beloved church, still feels the need to have a secretary. So Padre Georg will spend the evenings and nights with Ratzinger, and then trot over to fulfill his other secretarial duties with the new pope.
See?
And here is Sullivan quoting Padre Georg—wicked tongues call him gay.org—giving us a little peep into the day of a pontiff:
The pope’s day begins with the seven o’clock Mass, then he says prayers with his breviary, followed by a period of silent contemplation before our Lord. Then we have breakfast together, and so I begin the day’s work by going through the correspondence. Then I exchange ideas with the Holy Father, then I accompany him to the ‘Second Loggia’ for the private midday audiences. Then we have lunch together; after the meal we go for a little walk before taking a nap. In the afternoon I again take care of the correspondence. I take the most important stuff which needs his signature to the Holy Father.
Well, that’s a cozy picture—the breakfast and lunches together, the exchange of ideas, that afternoon nap.
Dear Reader, please believe me—I accuse the Holy Father of absolutely no impropriety. Yes, in the presence of such a sex-god, I would be stripping and kneeling as fast as I could, but I think the pope has / does not.
Twin thoughts on Ratzinger—he must keep this man as a constant and terrible reminder of what he has given up, what he has repressed, what he loves and what he cannot express or especially possess. He is a man in love who has never loved and who—obviously—cannot give up the man to whom he has never given himself. It’s a fascinating, religious / erotic hair shirt; a spiritual / psychosexual session with the scourge. He cannot tear himself away.
Could you?
And incredibly, he expects the whole world to believe this.
Second thought—what in hell is the next pope gonna do about this?
