By Msgr. James P. Moroney Director of the diocesan Office for Divine Worship and pastor of St. Cecilia Parish, Leominster
I first met Cardinal Ratzinger 25 years ago, as I entered the Office of the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Seven U.S. cardinals had just met with Pope John Paul II to propose a process by which the impasse on translation of the Scriptures for the Mass could be resolved. As director of the USCCB Secretariat for the Liturgy, I was joined by three other liturgical experts to try to work out the practical terms of that process.
We were all anxious as we entered the room but were each struck by the kindness of the man. He rose to greet each of the lowly staffers as we entered the room, taking our hands in both of his and calling us each by name, his welcoming smile and attentive gaze putting us instantly at ease.
He was a brilliant scholar, who outshone the practical expertise which the assembled “experts” offered at every turn. His concern was simply for the good of the Church, for accurate and accessible Catholic renderings of the Bible and the passing on of the authentic faith.
His concern for the Catholic tradition won him a reputation of inflexibility, but nothing could be further from the truth. Especially after his election to the See of Peter, he demonstrated a personal and academic humility by which he was willing to be persuaded by solid arguments at every turn.
Every recollection of Pope Benedict XVI written in these days after his death calls him brilliant and each of them are correct. No corpus of written and spoken words in modern times can be mined more fruitfully for fascinating insights into the authentic Catholic tradition than the writings of Pope Benedict XVI.
And while for the rest of my priesthood, I will benefit from his insights and his extraordinary synthesis of Catholic teaching, it is his gentle pastoral presence that I recall with the deepest fondness. For Pope Benedict always cared for the person in front of him, staring right into your eyes with rapt attention, as if you were the only person in the world.
He was particularly adept at affirming you every time he met you, always remembering your name and inquiring after your work. I will always cherish the memory of the time I presented Pope Benedict with a book I had recently published. He smiled, opened the book, and pointed at a particular paragraph. Anxious to know what he was pointing to, I turned my head to stare at it with him, at which he quipped, “This is the kind of pose I always asked the pope to assume when I brought him one of my new books. Now you can now put this picture on the back of your second edition and everyone will see how you were discussing your important insights with the pope!” After that, we both laughed, and I put the picture on the back cover of the second edition.
I was also deeply touched by his kindness at a luncheon with the Vox Clara Committee in 2010 to celebrate the completion of the new translation of the Roman Missal. When, in his opening remarks, Cardinal George Pell recalled my role as executive director of the effort, the members kindly applauded, at which I looked up and saw the Holy Father applauding. Then he rose to thank all who had taken part in this challenging work, noting that he knew that many would find the new translations “hard to adjust to… after nearly forty years of continuous use of the previous translation.” He continued, with a prescient pastoral insight, “The change will need to be introduced with due sensitivity, and the opportunity for catechesis that it presents will need to be firmly grasped. I pray that in this way any risk of confusion or bewilderment will be averted, and the change will serve instead as a springboard for a renewal and a deepening of eucharistic devotion all over the English-speaking world.”
I was privileged to work for and with Pope Benedict XVI on many liturgical projects throughout the years, and I will always be grateful for his having appointed me as a consultor to the Congregation for Divine Worship. But most of all, I am grateful for having come to know this gentle pastor who sat in the chair of Peter.
That gentleness and unswerving faith echo even after his death in the words he wrote earlier this year. They will serve for me, and I hope for you, as his last sermon, preached to us not just with his words, but with his life:
“Quite soon, I shall find myself before the final judge of my life. Even though, as I look back on my long life, I can have great reason for fear and trembling, I am nonetheless of good cheer, for I trust firmly that the Lord is not only the just judge, but also the friend and brother who himself has already suffered for my short-comings, and is thus also my advocate, my Paraclete. In light of the hour of judgement, the grace of being a Christian becomes all the more clear to me. It grants me knowledge, and indeed friendship, with the judge of my life, and thus allows me to pass confidently through the dark door of death.”