I have been watching our new Holy Father’s inauguration and listening to his homily. He is in all ways an admirable and inspiring figure, and I am completely certain of his anointing by the Holy Spirit to lead us, to be our Shepherd. I am completely without any reservations about him, even less than many who don’t yet feel that they know enough about him to rejoice wholeheartedly in his election—even those among the very faithful to whom it would not occur to have reservations in the first place. But–

 

Today is the feast day of St. Joseph, and I cannot forget there is another Joseph in silent seclusion, unmentioned. If he had died, if there had been a time given to us for mourning, if —-. This is not a complaint, still less a criticism, and I know and understand the need for no mention of him by the Church. We cannot have two popes. Everything has been done to give the illusion that he’s “gone.” But–

 

He’s not gone. I still love him. I cannot just stop loving him because he resigned. It’s not that easy. Perhaps it’s unseemly, or not in accord with what’s good for the Church and for us. And I’m sure our Pope Emeritus wouldn’t approve this feeling of profound loss, but I can’t just transfer—on command, as it were—all reverence to another Pope as though the one whom I love as Holy Father had ceased to be. It’s not merely as though he died but something much worse—Everything is happening in the Church, in the media, even in the Catholic blogosphere as though he were never here. It’s strange, unnatural, and something makes me want to say it’s also unbecoming.

 

I want to repeat that I’m not criticizing anything, and I recognize, under the circumstances, the need for—it’s hard to say it—the “Pope Emeritus” to be as invisible as possible. “The king is dead—long live the king” and all that. But that’s the point: He’s not dead—and there has been no period of mourning—and there is a falseness here that estranges.

 

Our new Holy Father is charming, wise, all things good—but I have found no responsive chord except one: Before he ascended the balcony to greet the people after his election, he telephoned Benedict XVI!

 

I think grief is infinitely worse when one feels so alone in it, a grief that should be shared by millions of brothers and sisters—but isn’t recognized, isn’t allowed. I have never felt this estranged from the Church.