A Link to the Divine
Mario Leone - How Music Defined the Hidden Life of Benedict XVI
For the German Pope, a deep relationship with great music was fundamental. His Sunday afternoons were true cultural events where, after listening to Bach—whom he considered a “link to the divine”—silence was revered.
It is well known what music represented in the life and pontificate of Benedict XVI. As a cardinal and, even more so, as the reigning Pope, Joseph Ratzinger spoke frequently of his love for the art of sound. His German heritage fostered a solid musical education, enriched over the years by his passion as a listener and his expertise as a scholar. Music filled his private life, his moments away from official duties, and, above all, his years as Pope Emeritus.
Every year, the foundation dedicated to his name awards a prize to prominent scholars of theology, philosophy, and sacred sciences. According to Father Federico Lombardi, chairman of the board, the prize “has gradually opened up to personalities from the world of religiously or spiritually inspired arts.” Lombardi adds, “This year, with immense joy, it is awarded to Maestro Riccardo Muti, recognizing his exceptional artistic merit, of which Benedict XVI was a great admirer.” The award will be presented by Pope Francis during tonight's concert at 6:00 p.m. in the Paul VI Hall (broadcast live on Rai 2). The event features Muti conducting the Luigi Cherubini Youth Orchestra and the “Guido Chigi Saracini” Choir of Siena Cathedral, directed by Lorenzo Donati.
This occasion offers an opportunity to tell the story of a lesser-known Benedict XVI: the man who lived his daily life with his “papal family”—the four Memores Domini and Monsignor Georg Gänswein, who now serves as Apostolic Nuncio to Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia. Through Gänswein’s eyes, we “walk” up the hill leading to the Mater Ecclesiae monastery, a long avenue in the Vatican Gardens that approaches the dome and offers a privileged view of the City.
“I often heard him playing the piano,” Gänswein recalls. “I was also fortunate enough to witness some of his conversations with Maestro Muti. In Muti’s interpretations, the Pope recognized the composer's natural ability to speak to the soul.”
Every gesture Benedict XVI made sought to deepen his relationship with Christ, a friendship alive in his grand pastoral acts as well as his daily routine. “The liturgy marked his life,” the Nuncio continues, “and music was fundamental, especially during the important moments of the liturgical year. We listened to music, but with Pope Benedict, we all sang together, especially when his brother Georg accompanied us on the piano.”
Sunday afternoons with Benedict XVI were cultural milestones. “They were not merely downtime or intellectual gatherings,” explains 'Father Georg,' as his closest friends call him, “but opportunities to deepen our relationship with the Mystery. The Holy Father never worked on Sundays because it is the Lord's Day.”
The “family” would often suggest a film, a reading (Guareschi was a favorite), or listening to—and with the arrival of DVDs, watching—a symphonic concert or opera. “Mendelssohn, Mozart, Bach... we listened to a lot of music,” the prelate continues. “Benedict XVI certainly had a predilection for Bach. Like many Germans, he considered him the ‘fifth apostle,’ a link to the divine.” He loved the work of the Cantor of Leipzig, believing the music came “from the heart and mind of a believer.”
Yet, we cannot forget Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. “Pope Benedict resembled him,” says Gänswein, “in his ability to say profound things in a very simple way, immediately touching the hearts of his listeners.” In Ratzinger, the spiritual dimension of beauty emerged powerfully. As Father Lombardi echoes, this is “clearly the story of a personal experience the Pontiff often spoke about.”
In some of his speeches, the Holy Father compared beauty to a wound. “True beauty leaves a mark,” explains Gänswein, “but above all, it leaves us in silence.” This was not a moment of emptiness, but a tension—a striving to listen to the Other. At the dinner table, conversation was sparse, occurring only when necessary. It was a Christian silence, deepened after listening to music. “After Bach's St. John Passion or St. Matthew Passion, we remained silent because the music continued to ‘speak.’ The Holy Father taught us to listen continuously.”
Perhaps it is here that the genius of a man completely captivated by God finds its highest manifestation. With advancing age, as Ratzinger's voice grew weaker, their mutual attention heightened; they responded to the slightest gestures and listened carefully to every single word. “In their last meeting with Muti,” says Gänswein, “they spoke little, but their glances spoke volumes, betraying a rare, mutual, and intimate understanding.”
The same experience shines in the eyes of those who were with him until the end: the Memores Domini and Georg Gänswein. When asked if he remembers the last time they all listened to music together, he replies, “Of course. December 27, 2022.” Then, he can say no more.
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