My Brother, the Pope
Georg Ratzinger
My Brother, the Pope
As told to
Michael Hesemann
Translated by Michael J. Miller
IGNATIUS PRESS SAN FRANCISCO
Original German edition:
Mein Bruder, der Papst
© 2011 by F. A. Herbig Verlag, Munich
Cover photograph:
With the Domspatzen in the Sistine Chapel:
Pope Benedict XVI thanks his brother, Msgr. Georg Ratzinger
© L’Osservatore Romano
Cover design by Roxanne Mei Lum
© 2011 by Ignatius Press, San Francisco
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-1-58617-704-1
Library of Congress Control Number 2011940712
Printed in the United States of America
From the beginning of my life, my brother has always been for me not only a companion, but also a trustworthy guide. For me he has been a point of orientation and of reference with the clarity and determination of his decisions. He has always shown me the path to take, even in difficult situations. . . . My brother has pointed out that since then, we have arrived at the last stage of our lives, at old age. The days left to live progressively diminish. But also in this stage my brother helps me to accept with serenity, with humility, and with courage the weight of each day.
Pope Benedict XVI
August 21, 20081
Contents
Introduction
I Roots
II Marktl (1925-1929)
III Tittmoning (1929-1932)
IV Aschau (1932-1937)
V Traunstein (1937-1946)
VI Freising and Fürstenried (1946-1951)
VII Professor (1951-1977)
VIII Cardinal (1977-2005)
IX Pope (2005 to the present)
In Place of an Afterword: Sixty Years a Priest (2011)
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Bibliography
Picture Credits
Notes
Introduction
by Michael Hesemann
The idea for this book was born in an extremely unusual place, namely, in the shrine in Absam, not far from Innsbruck in Tyrol. In it pilgrims venerate an image of Mary that is quite different from the Black Madonna of Czestochowa in Poland, the “Comforter of the Afflicted” in Kevelaer in the Rhineland, or any other miraculous image of the Mother of God in one of the many places of pilgrimage in old Europe. For it is the only one in the Old World that claims to be “not made by human hands” and is thus comparable only to the tilma in Guadalupe, Mexico. How it came to be is in any case a riddle that science to this day cannot answer. On January 17, 1797, the farm girl Rosina Bucher was sitting with her needlework at a window of the room on the ground floor of her parents’ house, through which the setting sun was shining. At that moment, as she declared later for the official record, a young woman looked at her through the windowpane, and her face never disappeared from it again. From then on, it was literally branded into the glass like a rough drawing, the head leaning gently to one side, the mouth closed, a kerchief tied around her head. Her serious expression, which is both sad and hopeful, touches the viewer’s heart deeply. It is as though she were looking in at our world once again through the window of our heavenly Father’s house.
Now 1797 was a difficult year for the Church. The cool, sometimes ice-cold wind of the Enlightenment had long since wafted through the last mountain village in Tyrol, Napoleon’s troops were implementing the values of the French Revolution, with military force if needed, and they were even marching against Rome and the pope. So the miraculous image of Absam, too, met at first with skepticism and rejection. Since it was thought to be a painting on glass, the pane was immediately scrubbed thoroughly several times, whereupon the Marian image vanished, only to reappear again on the dry pane in its former splendor. Even attempts to sand it off or to remove it permanently with acid failed miserably. Thus the diocesan chancery relented after the investigations were completed and allowed the windowpane with the image to be transferred to Saint Michael’s Church in Absam. It is still there today, set in a splendid golden reliquary and venerated by large numbers of pilgrims.
Our Lady of Absam answered prayers very effectively, as a whole warehouse of thank-you gifts from pilgrims testifies (usually ex voto plaques). But many also liked to be married in Absam; couples from all parts of Tyrol wanted to tie the matrimonial knot in the presence of the Mother of God who had appeared so miraculously. This was true also of a couple from Mühlbach near Oberaudorf in Bavaria who were wed in Absam on July 13, 1885: Maria Tauber-Peintner (1855-1930) and the baker Isidor Rieger (1860-1912). “The bride is well instructed in religion”, the pastor noted in the record after interviewing her—unusually well for a simple maidservant. Thirty-five years later, her daughter Maria would stand at the altar for her wedding, and this time the Mother of God had arranged the marriage personally, so to speak. At any rate, the daughter Maria had met her husband through an advertisement placed in the Altöttinger Liebfrauenboten, the in-house publication of Altötting, the most important Marian shrine and place of pilgrimage in all Bavaria. The notice read as follows:
Mid-level government official, single, Catholic, 43 years old, with an irreproachable record, from the country, seeks to marry in the near future a good Catholic girl who is tidy and a good cook and can do all the household chores and is also proficient at sewing and has her own furnishings.
This was already the second attempt by the policeman Joseph Ratzinger to find a wife at last; the first, made in March 1920, evidently met with no success. The second notice appeared in July 1920, and Maria Peintner answered it.1 It must have been love at first sight. At any rate, the couple married just four months later, on November 9, 1920, in Pleiskirchen in the district of Altotting. Thirteen months later, on December 7, 1921, their first child came into the world, a girl, who naturally was baptized with the name Maria. The first son, born likewise in Pleiskirchen on January 15, 1924, was to be named Georg. His younger brother, who first saw the light of day on April 16, 1927, in Marktl (Altötting), was named Joseph, after his father. Exactly 120 years after the wedding of his grandparents in Absam, on April 19, 2005, the cardinals of the Catholic Church elected the latter Joseph Ratzinger to be the 265th successor of the Apostle Peter. From then on, he would be called Benedict XVI.
The Pope from Bavaria had just celebrated the fifth anniversary of his pontificate and had made a pilgrimage to the Shroud of Jesus in Turin; as I traveled back to Germany, I took the opportunity to make a side-trip to Absam. There, at the place where it all began, I hoped to get to the bottom of the secret of the first German on the Throne of Peter since Adrian VI (1522-1523).2 Ever since 2005, right after his election, when I had written the biographical portrait Benedetto! with Yuliya Tkachova for those who would attend World Youth Day in Cologne, I had been fascinated by his path through life and by the question of whether something like a predestination could be discerned in it. As the years went by, I increasingly wished that I could someday have a chance to interview at length his closest and dearest confidant since childhood, his brother, Georg.
Georg Ratzinger, who today is eighty-seven years old, lives in Regensburg and is nothing less than a “living legend” in that cathedral city. After all, as cathedral choirmaster, he was the one who helped the Regensburger Domspatzen, the boys choir of the bishop’s church in Regensburg, achieve its greatest successes. So it was by no means uncommon before the momentous year 2005 for Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger to introduce himself as “the little brother of the famous choral director”. Since the conclave, however, Monsignor Georg Ratzinger, whom Pope John Paul II ha
d already appointed an “Apostolic Protonotary”, is known primarily as “the brother of the Pope”, despite his own impressive accomplishments.
In December 2010, Roswitha Biersack, director of the Bavarian section of the association of papal loyalists Deutschland pro Papa,3 introduced me in Regensburg to the cathedral choirmaster emeritus, who at that time was still eighty-six years old. In our conversation, it became evident that he was not opposed to the idea of a longer interview that could be the basis of a little book; first, however, he wanted to put impending knee surgery behind him. He came through the operation well, and, after completing the subsequent “rehab”, he welcomed us on May 8, 2011, to the first of five sessions (which ran to as much as two hours) in his house on Luzengasse in Regensburg. I started the conversation by saying, “I am now your Peter Seewald”, alluding to his brother’s interview with the journalist from Munich that resulted in the wonderful volume Light of the World. I could not have hoped for a better moment. The readings in church on that Third Sunday of Easter recalled the first sermon of Peter on the feast of Pentecost in Jerusalem. One week earlier, I had had the privilege of attending in Rome, together with one and a half million people, the beatification by Benedict XVI of his “beloved predecessor” John Paul II. The previous day, on May 7, Deutschland pro Papa had invited me to speak at a rally on the Odeonsplatz in Munich. Catholic Germany was looking forward with tremendous excitement to the papal visit in September, while the Ratzinger brothers were preparing for their joint celebration of the diamond jubilee of their priesthood: on June 29, 1951, sixty years earlier, the present pope and his brother had dedicated themselves irrevocably to the service of the Lord by their solemn declaration, “Adsum” (I am ready). This common jubilee, I think, is the best reason to look back at two priestly lives that have been so blessed.
A word on the form of this book: since these are Msgr. Georg Ratzinger’s memoirs, I have dispensed with a rigid “question-and-answer” format for the sake of readability. The words of “Herr Domkapellmeister” (Mr. Choirmaster), as he prefers to be called,4 at least in Regensburg, which have been edited stylistically and supplemented with further details, are printed in regular type, whereas my transitions, questions, interpolated remarks, and additions are in italics.
Naturally this book intends in the first place to secure an important source for the life history of our German pope. The testimony of his brother supplements in particular his personal memoirs, which he published while still a cardinal in 1997-1998 under the title Milestones. They ended rather early on, specifically with his move to Rome in 1982. The impressive career of the cathedral choirmaster Georg Ratzinger, on the other hand, plays a rather secondary role in the present work; it has already been depicted at length in Anton Zuber’s excellent and very readable biography, Der Bruder des Papstes: Georg Ratzinger und die Regensburger Domspatzen (Freiburg, 2007).
That being said, I would like to return to my original question of whether behind this unique “German career” of a policeman’s son who became the head of 1. 3 billion Catholics there was more than mere chance. It is quite certain that Joseph Ratzinger never aspired to the papacy and that this, his most important mission, like so much in his life, literally fell into his lap. He himself, citing the Third Letter of John (verse 8), inscribed Cooperatores veritatis, “Co-workers of the truth”, on his coat of arms. Yet the more I learned about his life, the more clearly it reminded me of the motto of the recently [1998] founded Emmanuel School of Mission in Altötting, where I had the privilege of holding a seminar in January 2011: “Give All—Get More!” In his life, Joseph Ratzinger, too, has always given everything so as to receive unintentionally so much more from the Lord in return. So this book might encourage young men in particular who are toying with the idea of setting out on the path to the priesthood and following their vocation despite all the interior and external obstacles. It is a path rich in blessings that gives much more in return precisely to those who expect nothing and give their all.
I was particularly impressed also, however, by Georg Ratzinger’s depiction of the early, formative years of our pope. He draws the picture of a family that grew so strong through the practice of its deep faith that it could withstand all the storms of that time, even those of the godless Nazi regime. This family can serve as an example to us especially who live in a time in which more and more marriages are failing and families are being torn apart. In the United States, I heard over and over again a saying that has so much truth in it: “A family that prays together stays together!” Only the reconciling power of faith, which bestows the gift of love, makes it possible to overcome the crises in everyday family life and to communicate to children the security and the values that open for them the door to a good future.
May this book help more families to discover again for themselves the power and joy of the Christian faith and to devote themselves to prayer in common and the celebration of the Church’s feast days with their children. The family is the future of the Church. Or, to put it in the Pope’s words, which became the motto of his visit to Germany in September 2011: “Where God is, there is the future.”
His life thus far shows how true that is.
Rome, June 29, 2011
I
Roots
We three children were all born in the vicinity of Altötting, the famous place of pilgrimage dedicated to the Mother of God, but not in the same village. My sister Maria (born December 7, 1921) and I (born January 15, 1924) came into the world in Pleiskirchen; my brother, Joseph, the Holy Father (born April 16, 1927), was born in Marktl am Inn. Because our father was a policeman by profession, he was often transferred, as was customary at the time. In any case, several times our whole family went on pilgrimage to Altötting. The shrine there, that wonderful little church, has a long and distinguished history that goes back to the Carolingian period. Yet we did not travel there as pilgrims on account of that historical character but, rather, because we knew it is a profoundly spiritual place. Our father even belonged to the Men’s Marian Congregation, a sodality that has its headquarters in Altötting and was entirely committed to honoring the Mother of God. That was one reason that drew him and us to that place again and again. These pilgrimages to the famous Black Madonna are among our most beautiful childhood memories. The spiritualized atmosphere, the result of constant prayer, charmed my brother and me so that even then we were profoundly under its influence. Therefore, growing up near Altötting played an important role in our lives and also in our esteem for the Mother of God. We could always entrust our cares and worries to our Lady; however small they may have been in our childhood, we always felt protected by her.
No one ever really spoke about the time before our parents’ marriage. So I did not know that my grandparents had been married at another Marian shrine, in Absam. But it is nice to know that plainly the blessing of the Mother of God was upon their marriage, too.
My mother’s family was originally from Tyrol. Her parents were bakers. The father, a Bavarian Swabian by the name of Isidor Rieger, was born (on March 22, 1860) in Welden, which is said to be a very charming place. Her grandparents had owned a mill near Brixen in South Tyrol (which at that time was still under Austrian rule) that was then swept away by flooding of the Rienz River. After that, the whole family emigrated to Bavaria. For the rest of her life, my grandmother yearned for her homeland. When she became sick and was gradually approaching death, she always used to say, “If only I had a bit of water from home, I would become well again.” She was convinced that the water in Tyrol was quite different from Bavarian water. She also thought that “a little hatful of hay from Tyrol” was more valuable as fodder for the cattle than a whole cartful of Bavarian hay. She was just a great Tyrolean patriot.1
Maria Peintner, the mother of Joseph and Georg Ratzinger, as a young woman
My mother, Maria Ratzinger, née Peintner, was born on January 8, 1884, in Mühlbach bei Oberaudorf (in the Rosenheim district) in the extreme southeastern part of Bavaria, and th
e church where she was baptized is also there. This is the same Mühlbach where the famous soccer player Bastian Schweinsteiger grew up, too. She then went to elementary school in Rimsting on Lake Chiemsee, “the Bavarian Sea”. Her parents, as I said, were bakers, and so the children had to deliver the bread every morning before school. After all, the customers wanted to have their fresh rolls and breakfast bread brought right to the house. For seven years she attended the school, and then she took various jobs as a maid. Her first employer was a first violinist in Salzburg. Zinke was his name; he was Czech and always practiced diligently. Thus she came into contact with music. Unfortunately the first violinist was very poorly paid; he always had to play additional concerts so as to be able to survive somehow, and my mother’s wages were accordingly meager. Later she worked in Kufstein in a bakery. Then she found a position in Hessen with a General Zech, who lived in Hanau, and finally she went to the Hotel Neuwittelsbach in Munich, where they were looking for a cook to make puddings, which was her specialty. And so she had already seen and experienced a few things when she met my father. During our childhood, her warmth and cordiality time and again compensated for our father’s strictness. She was always cheerful and friendly toward everyone and used to sing Marian hymns while washing the dishes. Above all, however, she was also a very practical, splendid wife who was never at a loss, a real Jill-of-all-trades: she was a tailor and could make soap and knew how to prepare a tasty meal from the simplest ingredients. She was particularly adept, as I mentioned, at making delicious puddings, which are still among the favorite foods of my brother and me. Her Bavarian dumplings, which had a thick crust underneath, were marvelous. They were served with vanilla sauce. We also loved her apple strudel. Good housewives know that in a real apple strudel, the dough is so thin that it is almost transparent. It is rather wide; it is pulled apart at the corners, and then the other ingredients are added, the apple filling, raisins, and all sorts of other good things. An apple strudel like that, with a paper-thin crust, is just wonderful. Then I should mention her pancakes, which she always served with ribisl, as she used to call currants; this was an old Tyrolean name that hardly anyone in Bavaria could make sense of. And finally, of course, I must not forget her kaiserschmarrn, which was simply excellent.2
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