At all points during my lifetime–probably, at all points since the end of the Thirty Years War–the pope of the day has faced a choice: do I embrace modernity, emphasize the softer parts of Christ’s message, and reach out to my ideological opponents; or build walls, enforce discipline, and hang on desperately to what I’ve got? This division corresponds nicely to the red-blue split in American politics.
Francis is a blue pope. Benedict was the quintessential red one. In what he would have considered a better time, he would have burned heretics with gusto. Like Trump, but with less justification, he always sounded fake when he talked about love and compassion. He wanted to kick your ass if you didn’t fall into line. In the end, the world kicked his.
The New Right will be devastated; leaving aside his age and infirmities, Benedict would have been the perfect head of state for the theocracy they want to build in America. Me, not so much. I will miss Benedict about as much as I miss Scalia, with whom he had much in common.