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Galatians 5:26

Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

If there ever was a man that Tedesco hated more than any liberal it was Georg Gänswein. As a matter of fact, the only point where he had agreed with the Holy Father had been on the archbishop’s dismissal from the Curia. He had felt smug vindication at the petty slight of leaving the man without any official appointment for a year (the previous Pontiff had been no saint, contrary to what his friends claimed).

Some ill-informed people thought that Gänswein and Tedesco should get on like a house on fire. They had similar backgrounds and studies, and an almost inappropriate devotion to Benedict. 

For a while, it was almost as if the only difference between them was that Goffredo was two years ahead. He joined Ratzinger at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in 1994 and had the best two years of his career. Then Gänswein showed up. 

At first, Tedesco agreed the younger man showed promise but quickly became alarmed at the friendship blossoming between the future Pope and Georg. 

Intellectually, Joseph had been far above both of them. He was a theological powerhouse, and Goffredo himself had started campaigning to name him a Father of the Church. 

The problem arose with his own abrasive personality. For all he was nicknamed “God’s Rottweiler”, Benedict was soft-spoken and shy. Tedesco was loud and uncultured in the finer arts. He found himself learning four additional languages and pursuing several post-doctoral studies in an effort to keep up. For a time, it had been enough. 

The issue became clear when discussing aesthetics and their role in the Church. Goffredo agreed on principle, tradition required dignity and elegance. However, he lacked the effortless grace that Georg had. Benedict had teased him once, when Gänswein was cited as the “inspiration” behind Donatella Versace’s Fall line. 

“He is a peacock!” Goffredo had growled, derailing what should have been a meeting to update the Pope on several serious matters. 

“My dear friend,” Benedict had said in a tired but perfect Italian, “must you keep this foolish rivalry going? One might even say there is nothing to argue about. If you have to reduce Holy offices to such earthly terms: you won”. He was referring to Tedesco’s post as head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Benedict’s former seat. 

Tedesco flushed. He felt the heat spreading up to his ears. He prayed that Benedict thought it was due to embarrassment at his own ambition. How to explain that he had, in fact, lost? At the time he received his new office he had been triumphant. Joseph as Pope and Goffredo as head of the (in his opinion) most important Congregation! It had felt like a victory, certainly, to be chosen over Georg. However, that was before Goffredo found out the Holy Father had wanted to keep the man as his Principal Private Secretary. Tedesco had won their official fight, but the underlying, unvoiced, and unacknowledged one? That one he had hopelessly lost. 

He was a powerful archbishop. Gänswein got to eat all his meals with His Holiness, he supervised audiences, they took walks together (and maybe Tedesco thought that seemed too romantic and intimate, perhaps he couldn’t stand it). How could that be a victory? Goffredo got everything except Benedict. And that was all that he truly wanted. 

“This has nothing to do with that!” He defended himself. “It’s nearly blasphemous! Clergyman Collection! As if we were disguises.” Goffredo took out his packet of cigarettes, looked at Benedict and put them back in his pocket. “I’m sure I saw him wearing one of those coats earlier!”

Benedict drummed on his desk with his fingers. He played an invisible piano, sometimes, when deep in thought. 

“It’s a lovely coat, don’t you think?” 

“What?” 

“The coat. It’s beautiful. I know you don’t see the value of such things.” That had stung. 

“Explain it to me, then.” He requested, curtly. 

Benedict smiled his shy smile. “Goffredo, I don’t want to argue. I just meant that it cannot hurt. It is not dogma, not even anything personal. It’s just fashion.” 

Goffredo suddenly felt very tired. “You are right, I don’t understand.” He leaned back on his chair and sighed. 

Benedict leaned forward, the desk was between them but he reached a hand out and Tedesco leaned in, mechanically. To his surprise, the Pope cupped his face. “Beautiful things can help us to reach God.” He explained. “The grandiosity of Cathedrals is meant to honour Him, and remind us of His perfection. If you look to beauty as a tribute instead of vanity, you’ll be closer to Him.” The older man let go and Goffredo felt bereft. “Now, what were we saying before?” 

Tedesco couldn’t remember.  

That wasn’t even the worst that had happened with Gänswein. Their worst fight had happened in 2012. In February, Tedesco had been created Cardinal and had felt invincible. Kneeling in front of Benedict, with the Pope smiling at him, like the sun, a warmth had spread to him and the joy had brought him close to tears. Unfortunately, that same year, Georg had been raised to the rank of Archbishop and appointed Prefect of the Pontifical Household. He was even more important to Benedict in his new role. 

The relationship between Goffredo and Georg had broken two years before, when the latter appeared on the cover of Vanity Fair. Tedesco had told the Pope the monsignor had encouraged the publication. Meanwhile, Gänswein maintained that someone had approached the magazine in an effort to discredit him. Neither could prove their claim and the Pope had quickly abandoned the matter as unimportant. 

The new position, however, had definitely gone to Georg’s head. One day, when waiting for Benedict to finish his work, both men had found themselves alone on the private waiting room. 

“Your Eminence,” Gänswein had said behind a fake and polite smile, “are you here to discuss your newest nickname? Such disrespect cannot stand for a man of your station”. He stood up to walk closer.

Tedesco, unfortunately, knew what the archbishop meant. He had heard the Rottweiler’s rottweiler at least twice this week. He did not mind. Goffredo did see himself as Benedict’s protector. His legacy, at least. 

“I don’t care what anyone calls me.” He stated, matter of factly. Sidestepping the other man to take one of the empty chairs. “We can’t all be Gorgeous Georg.” He added in a nasty, mocking tone. 

“We certainly can’t”. Gänswein eyed him disdainfully. 

Tedesco stood back up, resenting the height difference. “Some people should be seen and not heard. That’s why being a glorified butler suits you so well.” 

Georg lost his cool demeanor and snarled. “This from a man who can barely speak Latin! Tell me, Eminence, you know what a dog’s dog is?” 

Tedesco understood immediately. Zicke, stronza, bitch. “Who do you thin-?” He got closer to Gänswein. His voice was rising and he heard Benedict call, “Georg who is it?”, in German. 

“His Eminence Tedesco.” Georg’s voice was back to pleasant but he took a step closer to Goffredo so they were almost nose to nose, and he continued in German, too. “Do you need me to stay and translate, Your Holiness”? 

Tedesco had been furious, like a bull. The pent up anger needed to go somewhere and he had shoved Gänswein back. Georg had tripped and fallen, staring at Tedesco incredulously from where he had landed. Benedict had laughed, thinking it was a joke. “No, but send him in.” He replied in Italian, as a courtesy. Goffredo hated it. He did speak German! And his Latin was fine! 

The last time he had been alone with Gänswein would remain in his memory. Goffredo had walked past him, Georg staring at him with undisguised loathing. 

He would regret that episode for the rest of Benedict’s life. When the Pope had become Emeritus and moved to Castel Gandolfo, Goffredo had not received the new Pope’s permission to visit,  which he needed to stay for any length of time at the Papal properties. Tedesco’s letters went mostly unanswered, too. Unsurprising, since Gänswein handled all correspondence, but terribly painful, all the same. 

When they had returned to the Vatican, Goffredo could visit again, but his posting to Venice meant a train trip to what had previously been a short walk. Tedesco had felt loss before, but he had never felt as alone as when he had been asked to become Patriarch. A posting designed to eliminate all his political power. He lost the Curial appointment and Benedict, in the end. 

Goffredo Tedesco could never forgive Georg Gänswein for limiting his (already difficult to maintain) relationship with Benedict. Not even when the Pope died and it was obvious that there was no one more affected than the two of them. It had been three months since Tedesco had been able to see Him! The man who had shaped him. No, God have mercy on me , he could not forgive…or forget. 

He remained angry, getting more bitter and aggressively against Benedict’s successor and his “reforms”. The Conclave that elected Benitez was proof to that, at least. 

And if Goffredo finally felt that warmth he felt at his elevation again when Vincent hugged him, smiling like the sun, reassuring him that everything would be alright… well. That still didn’t mean he had to forgive Gänswein. Even after Innocent asked him to be the one to give him the Fisherman’s ring. 

Even when he had, upon losing the Papacy, at last, won.