In thanksgiving for the pontificate of Benedict XVI

We were looking for a 'good shepherd,' and instead we got a German shepherd.
--Pope Benedict XVI

Yesterday morning at Mass, I was momentarily shaken when I realized I was praying for "Robert our bishop and Benedict our pope" for the very last time.

The two and half weeks since the Holy Father announced his retirement have flown by. I can't help but to feel that Pope Benedict's final public Mass, general audience and other last milestones came and went without sufficient time for reflection. The "gay mafia" scandals and prognostication, both silly and serious, seem to have taken the focus and left the Pope out of the spotlight--a place he probably didn't want to be anyway.

I took this picture in May of 2011.

I wonder whether it might take decades for the world to fully grasp the impact and legacy of Pope Benedict. In many ways, he never fully escaped the shadow of Pope John Paul II--a phenomenon, perhaps, best illustrated by the sheer volume of Catholic art and devotional items depicting both of the last two pontiffs together. Even after the better part of a decade has passed since JP2 reigned (and a number of more years since the "John Paul Superstar" era), he's still a rock star among the current generation of young Catholics.

I count myself among those who continue to celebrate the Polish Pope--so much so that we named our baby after him this past October. But I love Pope John Paul like I love St. Catherine of Siena or St. Peter or any of the saints who I remember as historical figures.

I love Pope Benedict like a father.

God's Rottweiler
It wasn't always this way.

Looking back at the 2005 papal conclave, I both laugh and shudder to remember that I was among those clamoring for a pope who would permit birth control and ordain women priests. I hoped that we'd have a pope who was multicultural and would modernize the Church. The only silver lining I could find in the cardinals' selection of another crusty old white guy was that at least they didn't go back to picking Italians!

To say I was poorly catechized when Benedict ascended to the papacy would be charitable. Like 98 percent of other young Catholics over the last 40 years, my religious formation pretty much consisted of coloring pictures of Jesus and talking about how it made me feel. That didn't, however, stop me from deluding myself into believing I had a better understanding of Christ's teachings than did Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, even if he was one of the greatest theologians in centuries.

So what happened? How did I go from frowning upon Pope Benedict's election to getting choked up with the realization that in a few hours my papa will be gone?

My conversion began with one of his very first remarks as pope: "I am consoled that the Lord can work and act with inadequate instruments..." I was struck by both the truth of the statement as well as the humility of this man, who I had been led to believe was "God's Rottweiler" and a ruthless dictator of pre-Vatican II oppression.

A Crisis of Faith
Near the end of Pope Benedict's first year in the Petrine office, I found myself in a crisis. A senior at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, my faith that had been built on the straw foundation of terrible catechesis collapsed under the weight of four years of education that was nothing short of hostile to religion.

I wanted to believe, but everything I had learned about the universe, the human mind and evolution left me convinced that God was a construct and that there was no life beyond our hundred or so years on earth. I spent the next two years or so sojourning through a spiritual desert, continuing to attend Mass but feeling almost certain that it was just a charade.

This time period covered both my wedding and the birth of my first son. While many young adults gladly trade their faith for the transient pleasures of a licentious lifestyle, I had a bit of a different perspective. I was 23 years old with a beautiful wife and a beautiful baby. If there were no God, I realized that I was at the absolute peak of life. If there were no afterlife, the best-case scenario for my future involved 60 or so years of gradual decline, followed by a death which would render my entire life meaningless.

And so I spent those two years attending Mass and functioning as a Catholic, but more or less thinking as an atheist. My thoughts were consumed with a paralyzing fear of death. While a small handful of people knew I had doubts, only my wife Laura was able to fully able to grasp the extent of my despair.

By God's Grace, a year into my crisis of faith, I found a Catholic theology professor who was willing to enter into dialogue with me, addressing my doubts. We'd exchange emails sometimes several times a week, and he'd recommend books for me. I'd return to him with my objections to the arguments in favor of the faith, and he'd continue to answer them. Gradually, I came to understand the faith and its compatibility with science. This professor's extraordinary support and patience built in me the intellectual foundation to grasp the faith.

Not only did I come to believe in God and my Catholic faith again, but I came to recognize and appreciate the beauty and richness of the faith in ways I never would have been willing to consider in my days as a liberal Catholic.

Becoming a Spiritual Child of Pope Benedict XVI
So what does my journey have to do with Benedict XVI? Well, it just so happens that he was the PERFECT man to serve as the pope as I emerged from my crisis of faith.

Looking back, I can fully appreciate John Paul II's charisma. But struggling with intellectual doubts, I might have rejected that charisma because it stirred up emotion, which I didn't trust. But while John Paul II was the master of the television screen, Benedict was the master of the written word. Through his work, my doubts fostered by the pop-atheism of our day were trumped by a reason-based case for Christ.

In Benedict, I found a shepherd and a teacher whose proclamations on the Gospel were free from pre-commitment and supposition. He doggedly pursued truth. And the results of this pursuit were the firm conviction--one that I accepted--that Jesus Christ is the Risen Lord.

And so, as the years passed, I came to see myself as a spiritual child of Pope Benedict. An image from his inauguration graces the screen of my laptop, and my wife only joined Facebook when she heard that Pope Benedict had an account.

In May of 2011, Laura and I had the opportunity to make a pilgrimage to Rome, where we attended the Holy Father's general audience. It was a most blessed day that, even from a distance, served to confirm everything I'd suspected about Benedict's holiness, humility and love for the church. Laura spent the day in a state of ecstasy. It was a tremendous contrast from my days as a virtual agnostic, despairing over the thought of a godless world. We excitedly scurried around visiting local merchants so we could purchase items to have blessed by the Pope. I can imagine some day my grandchildren passing them down to their grandchildren, saying, "These were the rosaries great, great grandpa Karlen got blessed by St. Benedict XVI."

On that pilgrimage, a good priest friend who was with us remarked that the danger of our generation is that we've known nothing but holy men as priests. Should that trend change, we run the risk of disillusion. Whoever reigns next in the universal Church, however, Benedict has helped strengthen my faith to withstand whatever is to come.

Thank you, Pope Benedict, and may God bless you and reward you for your humble service to the Church and to God's people throughout the world!