It was long believed that William Shakespeare and Miguel de Cervantes, two of the world’s greatest writers, died on the same day, on April 23rd,1616. That belief is now considered erroneous; different calendars were in use at the time. Nevertheless, the labelling of a single date more than four centuries ago as “the saddest day in the history of the world” still reflects, appropriately enough, a connection with literature. Since 1995, April 23rd has been designated World Book Day.
The period just passed, between Christmas 2022 and the new year, witnessed the deaths of a striking number of famous people. There was no single day to rival the “saddest day” in history, but many reasons to grieve were compressed into the last days of December.
Two names stand out among those to whom the world bade recent farewells. One was the figurehead of a great religion, celebrated by his followers around the world, credited with giving hope to the poor. The other was Pope Benedict.
Edson Arantes do Nascimento, known to the world simply as Pelé, and Joseph Ratzinger in truth had several things in common. They were, in their different ways, the leaders of global organisations. They won the admiration of many followers worldwide. Both were Catholics. Their birth names were superseded, respectively, by a famous nickname and a papal title. After many years at the top, they lived the later part of their respective lives as emeritus. Only one of them was believed by his followers to be capable of performing miracles, although it’s still theoretically possible that an eventual canonisation process will discover some miracles performed by Benedict.
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I still recall, during the 1970 World Cup, when I was at secondary school, a sermon delivered in our school chapel by our English teacher, Fr Joe Veale SJ. Joe was no sports fan, even if he did, many years later, recommend that I watch the film Bend It Like Beckham. The 1970 World Cup was the first one we could watch on colour television.
Something important was missing from the Irish Catholic Church of the time, with its solemnity, religiosity and overemphasis on rules
Moreover, in Ireland, it was the first World Cup we could enjoy without the torture of fuzzy and flickering British TV channels. Pelé's Brazilian team that year, resplendent in their famous blue and yellow strip, was arguably the greatest football team of all time. They played “the beautiful game” with brilliance, panache and exultation.
What Joe told us in his sermon was that, when he saw the joy with which the Brazilian players celebrated each goal and embraced each other in jubilation, he realised that that was how we should come together in Christian celebration. For an Irish priest in those days, it was an unusual and striking observation. It was his way of conveying to us that something important was missing from the Irish Catholic Church of the time, with its solemnity, religiosity and overemphasis on rules.
No doubt Benedict was a brilliant theologian and a good enough man doing a very difficult job. However, I think he could have benefited from that simple sermon in 1970. For many decades, there was a certain joylessness emanating from the leadership of the Church, both in Ireland and further afield. The emphasis on sin, on what we were prohibited from doing, on negatives rather than possibilities, percolated down to the faithful. The Second Vatican Council had done something to correct the balance, with its shift of focus from sin to love. However, in 1970, that was still very much work in progress and remains so today.
It would be wrong to count Benedict among those who have actively resisted the new spirit. His nickname “God’s rottweiler” was probably unfair. However, as pope, he clung to an orthodoxy about certain aspects of the Church’s attitude and teaching that were long past their sell-by date. In footballing terms, it would perhaps not be unfair to suggest that Benedict’s playing style was Bulgaria 1966 rather than Brazil 1970.
As an Argentinian, Pope Francis would probably insist that Messi was the best player of the lot
Sometimes people are significantly defined by comparisons with others. Today’s great football debate is about whether Pelé or Maradona should be considered the greatest player of all time. The most obvious comparator for Pope Benedict is Pope Francis. The current pope, with his more pastoral approach, his kindlier manner, his reluctance to judge and his openness to at least limited change seems closer to the joyous spirit of Pelé – even if it must be acknowledged that, as an Argentinian, Pope Francis would probably insist that Messi was the best player of the lot.
An American sportswriter, also a poet, once observed that: “When the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name/ He writes not that you won or lost/ But how you played the Game.” The Great Scorer will have been busy over recent days. He will hopefully award high marks all round. But I expect he’s a soccer fan.