On the eve of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s funeral, I am reflecting on my one personal encounter with him. Realizing, too, that if he hadn’t shocked the world in 2013 by resigning, I probably would never have had the opportunity to perform for him, let alone meet him. Now that he has died, I realize what an unbelievable opportunity it was, and how grateful I will always be. The photos tell only a portion of the story.
A little more than a year before, I was invited to Regensburg, Germany, for the 89th birthday of the pope’s elder brother, Monsignor Georg Ratzinger, who died in 2020. His biographer, German journalist Michael Hessemann, who I met in Rome a few months before, extended the invitation. So in January 2012 my mother and I traveled to Germany to the bucolic and historical city of Regensberg.
We were part of a small group of guests at the monsignor’s modest home. My mother sat next to the monsignor, and although she spoke no German, and he no English, somehow they communicated, smiling often and even laughing.
I played a little on the monsignor’s beautiful Steinway piano, so nervous that I forgot part of the piece I’d practiced diligently. But the monsignor, very gracious, didn’t mind. Michael announced then that next year they were planning a 90th birthday concert for him at Regensburg’s beautiful chapel. I was invited to perform.
But then in February Pope Benedict XVI became the first pontiff in six centuries to resign. With so much tumult in the Catholic Church, I was certain no 90th birthday concert would take place. How could it? The pope’s brother would likely not want a celebration.
But then Michael called me in November 2013 and said the concert was on but would take place at the Vatican and that the pope emeritus, who vowed to live a quiet sequestered life in the Mater Ecclesia Monastery, would attend as well. It was a stunning turnaround.
In less than two months my mother and I were in Rome for the concert. There were three performers on the program, an operatic tenor and a violinist, both from Germany, and me, the lone American and only woman. We each performed three pieces.
The concert took place at the Vatican Radio studios, also in the Vatican Gardens. About 45 people attended, mostly household staff, nuns and priests. The main two members of the audience were Monsignor Ratzinger and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI.
POPE CALLS FOR END TO ‘SENSELESS’ WAR IN UKRAINE DURING CHRISTMAS MESSAGE
When the pope emeritus entered the room everyone stood. He came to each performer to say hello. He greeted me last. He was gracious, the greetings more perfunctory.
The most difficult piece I played was by Franz Liszt, from his “Ann?es de P?lerinage” (Years of Pilgrimage), called “Lo Sposoalizio.” It’s based on a painting by Rafael depicting the engagement of Mary and Joseph. After the final note of the entire concert, he immediately jumped up from his seat and came straight to me to shake my hand. It was a remarkable moment I will never forget.
As I now sit in Rome preparing to report on Pope Emeritus Benedict’s funeral, I have two additional remembrances. One: when I introduced my now deceased mother to him and told him how old she was, he was amazed and told her she looked so much younger. Her immediate response was an enthusiastic, “Thank you” and a hug.
No one told this woman raised in a Black Baptist church that you’re not supposed to hug the pope, retired or not. He didn’t care. He hugged her back and for a brief moment they were just two elderly people from different worlds beaming with delight that they had met.
The other thought is that we learned this week that the pope’s final words as life left his body were, “Jesus, Ich liebe ditch,” which is German for “Jesus, I love you.” And so, it now warms my heart that one of the pieces I played for him was by the German composer Johann Sebastian Bach, “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”
So very grateful.
To Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, may heaven’s music fill you with eternal joy!
On the eve of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s funeral, I am reflecting on my one personal encounter with him. Realizing, too, that if he hadn’t shocked the world in 2013 by resigning, I probably would never have had the opportunity to perform for him, let alone meet him. Now that he has died, I realize what an unbelievable opportunity it was, and how grateful I will always be. The photos tell only a portion of the story.
A little more than a year before, I was invited to Regensburg, Germany, for the 89th birthday of the pope’s elder brother, Monsignor Georg Ratzinger, who died in 2020. His biographer, German journalist Michael Hessemann, who I met in Rome a few months before, extended the invitation. So in January 2012 my mother and I traveled to Germany to the bucolic and historical city of Regensberg.
We were part of a small group of guests at the monsignor’s modest home. My mother sat next to the monsignor, and although she spoke no German, and he no English, somehow they communicated, smiling often and even laughing.
I played a little on the monsignor’s beautiful Steinway piano, so nervous that I forgot part of the piece I’d practiced diligently. But the monsignor, very gracious, didn’t mind. Michael announced then that next year they were planning a 90th birthday concert for him at Regensburg’s beautiful chapel. I was invited to perform.
Lauren Green greets Pope Emeritus Benedict at the Vatican on Jan. 15, 2014.
(Courtesy of the author)
But then in February Pope Benedict XVI became the first pontiff in six centuries to resign. With so much tumult in the Catholic Church, I was certain no 90th birthday concert would take place. How could it? The pope’s brother would likely not want a celebration.
But then Michael called me in November 2013 and said the concert was on but would take place at the Vatican and that the pope emeritus, who vowed to live a quiet sequestered life in the Mater Ecclesia Monastery, would attend as well. It was a stunning turnaround.
In less than two months my mother and I were in Rome for the concert. There were three performers on the program, an operatic tenor and a violinist, both from Germany, and me, the lone American and only woman. We each performed three pieces.
The concert took place at the Vatican Radio studios, also in the Vatican Gardens. About 45 people attended, mostly household staff, nuns and priests. The main two members of the audience were Monsignor Ratzinger and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI.
Pope Emeritus Benedict and his fellow clergymen
(Courtesy of the author)
POPE CALLS FOR END TO ‘SENSELESS’ WAR IN UKRAINE DURING CHRISTMAS MESSAGE
When the pope emeritus entered the room everyone stood. He came to each performer to say hello. He greeted me last. He was gracious, the greetings more perfunctory.
The most difficult piece I played was by Franz Liszt, from his “Ann?es de P?lerinage” (Years of Pilgrimage), called “Lo Sposoalizio.” It’s based on a painting by Rafael depicting the engagement of Mary and Joseph. After the final note of the entire concert, he immediately jumped up from his seat and came straight to me to shake my hand. It was a remarkable moment I will never forget.
As I now sit in Rome preparing to report on Pope Emeritus Benedict’s funeral, I have two additional remembrances. One: when I introduced my now deceased mother to him and told him how old she was, he was amazed and told her she looked so much younger. Her immediate response was an enthusiastic, “Thank you” and a hug.
Lauren Green’s mother embraces Pope Emeritus Benedict on Jan. 15, 2014.
(Courtesy of the author)
No one told this woman raised in a Black Baptist church that you’re not supposed to hug the pope, retired or not. He didn’t care. He hugged her back and for a brief moment they were just two elderly people from different worlds beaming with delight that they had met.
The other thought is that we learned this week that the pope’s final words as life left his body were, “Jesus, Ich liebe ditch,” which is German for “Jesus, I love you.” And so, it now warms my heart that one of the pieces I played for him was by the German composer Johann Sebastian Bach, “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”
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So very grateful.
To Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, may heaven’s music fill you with eternal joy!
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