A Doctrinal and Practical Continuity: Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis on the Ecological Crisis

Abstract

The question of a possible discontinuity between the papacies of Benedict XVI and Francis are broadly discussed in the Catholic public square, as well as in the literature. This paper aims at demonstrating the continuity of the two papal magisteria in a special area, the assessment of the ecological crisis. While Benedict XVI approached the issue from a theological and theoretical point of view, he was not indifferent to the practical consequences, which were then highlighted in a sometimes harsh and passionate manner by Francis. I argue that Francis’ alarmist claims about the ecological situation are partly based on the theological imagination of Benedict XVI (while, of course, having other sources, as well). Continuity between the two Popes can also be observed in their relation to Orthodox ecological thought, a relation deserving careful attention.

1. Introduction

It is interesting to note that the major ecophilosophical approaches that have emerged since the 1970s have often included religious elements, usually with a positive overtone, but in almost all cases, these religious beliefs seem to have been linked to non-Christian traditions, typically Buddhism or Hinduism. The most prominent of these approaches is deep ecology, which is both a philosophical and an ecological movement, and whose founder, Arne Naess, has found positive points of reference for rethinking humanity and nature, in particular Hindu traditions (Naess 2005, pp. 515–30). Christianity was rather late in entering the debate on the origins of the ecological crisis and its possible solutions, and the issue was still mainly addressed by Eastern Christianity, responding partly to the accusations, developed mainly by Lynn White, that Christian doctrine, on the fundaments laid by the Bible and the Genesis narrative, has enabled the unrestrained exploitation of the Earth (White 1967; Zizioulas 2011). Joseph Ratzinger paid relatively early attention to the question of the relationship between humanity and the Earth, but it was only during his papacy that the ecological problem became central to his thinking. From the very beginning of his term of office, Pope Francis has made the ecological crisis a central theme (Pope Francis 2015), focusing above all on its practical dimensions, and became rather critical when faced with the fact that his early warnings had had almost no effect (Pope Francis 2023). They both owe much to orthodox ecotheology, and this common root allows for a particular continuity in their thinking.

As the issue of a possible discontinuity between Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis is not a marginal one in the Catholic literature of our day (Joas and Spaemann 2018), it is worth noting that the continuity problem is one that is especially important for Pope Benedict XVI, who, in his address to the Roman Curia on 22 December 2005, introduced the term “hermeneutics of reform” as a normative category for interpreting Vatican II and establishing a continuity with that council (O’Malley 2012). This kind of hermeneutics stands against the notion of discontinuity and involves a special blending of sameness and novelty. This article has the aim of highlighting this sort of continuity between the two Popes—a continuity that involves change, but does not result in a rupture, i.e., in views contrary to earlier ones. I have the intention of showing that what was developed on the theoretical level by Pope Benedict XVI is continuous with what Pope Francis has expressed in more practical terms, i.e., with regard to concrete steps to overcome the ecological crisis.

2. Ratzinger’s Early Theology of Creation

If one looks through the fifth volume of Joseph Ratzinger’s collected works (Benedict XVI 2021), which contains his writings on creation, one might be surprised to find that the term ‘ecology’ appears only once in the volume, albeit in a context that is very characteristic of the author. The lecture in question is ‘Man between reproduction and creation’, given in Bologna in 1988 (Benedict XVI 2021, pp. 286–302). At this point in the lecture, the author speaks of how man, limited to reproduction, that is to say, reduced to producing himself, seems to be an artificial and illusory phenomenon which cannot be viable in the face of reality, and the ecological crisis of our time is a sign of this loss of life and this weakened self-awareness of humankind. The passage and the context are characteristic of Joseph Ratzinger’s thinking in several respects.

First, this is because it places the question of man and creation in the context of the history of Western thought. He refers in part to Goethe, who says that man, created under artificial, laboratory conditions (the homunculus), cannot stand the test of reality, and then to Marx, for whom, according to his interpretation, ‘the struggle against nature’ and ‘the struggle for human freedom’ are essentially the same thing, i.e., the untying of the bonds with nature becomes the pledge of human freedom; also, the name of Robert Spaemann is mentioned here, the philosopher on whom Joseph Ratzinger relied throughout most of his career, beginning in 1967 (Schaller 2024), but especially after the turn of the century (Spaemann 2012), mainly in the context of the natural law theory. In addition to the context of the history of ideas, a characteristic feature of the text is the author’s firm rejection of the idea that human reason should bring reason into a natural reality devoid of all reason: in Ratzinger’s words, ‘the intrinsic reason of creation is greater than the reason of the active human being’ (Benedict XVI 2021, p. 298). Thirdly, it is worth pointing out that the rejection of the modern pathos of productibility, constructability, and feasibility is also present in Joseph Ratzinger, who refuses to accept that man must take all reality into his own hands and freely create his own world by means of his desire for endless development.

In Lent 1981, Joseph Ratzinger gave four talks in Munich on faith in creation, and the talks were published in print, supplemented by a 1979 essay, ‘The Consequences of Faith in Creation’ (Benedict XVI 2021, pp. 33–98). By this time, he had already put forward the vision that in the course of the modern age, belief in creation had declined, even within Christianity itself.1 His historical analysis suggests that the decline of belief in creation is a distinctly modern process, and that at least three thinkers contributed to its development at the dawn of the modern era. Firstly, there was Giordano Bruno, who introduced the idea of a divine cosmos; secondly, there was Galileo, who separated God from physical reality; and thirdly, there was Martin Luther, who, in opposing the Greek heritage and philosophy, rejected both the theological doctrine of the cosmos and the metaphysical question of existence. A recurring feature of Joseph Ratzinger’s thought is his penchant for analyzing historical milestones and turning points, which he describes in the form of juxtapositions. In the context of the decline in the importance of creation, he concludes that when the cosmos was divinized, Christian faith was replaced by a ’pagan’ and Greek worldview, the notion of dependence and contingency inherent in creation was replaced by the idea of the independence, autonomy, and absoluteness of the universe, dependence on God was confronted with the requirement of freedom, and knowledge of God was replaced by a mathematical knowledge of nature. In this way, God has become a marginal hypothesis that no longer concerns the actual processes of reality, and God himself has been relegated to the subjective space of religiosity. In the 20th century, according to Ratzinger, the same danger is posed within theology by a “monism of grace”, which is insensitive to the structures of creation and expects everything from grace separated from created reality.

In these two essays, we can observe precisely the features of Joseph Ratzinger’s teaching on creation that will later be fundamental to his ecological reflections. The following seem to be particularly important: (1) the embedding of the Christian doctrine of creation into a historical context, along with a critique of the gradual divinization of creation; (2) the emphasis on the inner meaning and reason of nature, according to which God himself can be understood through the inner reason of creation (Benedict XVI 2021, p. 47), for creation is derived from God’s reason (Benedict XVI 2021, p. 44), and in the reason of creation “God himself looks at us” (Benedict XVI 2021, p. 50); (3) the acceptance of the structures of creation as opposed to the myth of the progress of unlimited development and to the dream of the possibility of constructing human happiness with human power (in accordance with, among others, Robert Spaemann).

3. Later Ecological Reflections of Benedict XVI

It is widely acknowledged that “Benedict’s interest in environmental stewardship is remarkable for having first clearly emerged as a central focus during his tenure as supreme pontiff” (Ramage 2022a, p. 713). He has spoken so often and in such detail about the problems and challenges related to the environment that his statements on the subject fill a book (Benedict XVI 2014). His basic idea is that there is a ‘covenant’ between man and his environment (Benedict XVI 2009a, nr. 50), which obliges man to serve the created world according to its “rhythm”, “logic”, and “grammar” (Ramage 2022b). In this context, as emphasized by Peter Turkson, ‘covenant is not a contract between God and man, not a pact built on reciprocity; it is rather a gift given by God to man, a creative act of God’s love’ (Turkson 2018, p. 41). The idea of a covenant between man and the natural world serves a balance between the acknowledgement of the unique position of humankind in the created universe and an integration of human beings into the cosmic order.

Benedict XVI does not, therefore, support the idea that man is a “parasite” and a “disease” of creation (cf. Benedict XVI 2021, pp. 56–60), but seeks to find man’s proper place in creation, which excludes the exploitation of the created world. He did not shy away from alarmist voices, warning that the natural environment is under serious threat and that ‘before it is too late, we must take courageous decisions that can that can recreate a strong alliance between humankind and the earth’ (Benedict XVI 2007). Importantly, the phrase ‘before it is too late’ seems to reflect an unadulterated alarmist approach, and the call for ‘courageous decisions’ is a sign that Benedict XVI did not consider it appropriate to simply talk about ‘ecological conversion’, ‘protection of creation’, or any similar phrase without involving actual action. Pope Benedict’s alarmism rarely receives attention, even though it is a fundamental theme of his entire ecological reflection.

The dozens of texts in the anthology The Garden of God offer a whole range of themes, but it seems unnecessary to go into all these ideas in detail. As supreme pontiff, he continues to emphasize the ontological foundations of the doctrine of creation, and continues to talk about the conviction that human action alone cannot solve the problems of humanity unless it recognizes, in a gesture of acceptance and reception, the structures that are inherent in the world: ‘Those very people who, as Christians, believe in the Creator Spirit become aware of the fact that we cannot use and abuse the world and matter merely as material for our actions and desires; that we must consider creation a gift that has not been given to us to be destroyed, but to become God’s garden, hence, a garden for men and women’ (Benedict XVI 2006). However, he adds a whole range of practical considerations, because his ideas concerning creation are now inextricably intertwined with his warning that the ecological crisis is an ethical problem that requires concrete steps.

For the sake of simplicity, instead of referring to the dozen speeches and messages in The Garden of God, I would like to recall only the messages sent by Benedict XVI to Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew. In 2006, Pope Benedict and Patriarch Bartholomew issued a joint declaration entitled The Dialogue of Truth. Pope Benedict’s visit to Istanbul was particularly significant, because it re-launched the Orthodox-Catholic dialogue that had been suspended ten years earlier. Let me quote point 6 of the Declaration: ‘At present, in the face of the great threats to the natural environment, we want to express our concern at the negative consequences for humanity and for the whole of creation which can result from economic and technological progress that does not know its limits. As religious leaders, we consider it one of our duties to encourage and to support all efforts made to protect God’s creation, and to bequeath to future generations a world in which they will be able to live’ (for the text of the declaration and on its context see Chryssavgis 2023).

Benedict XVI also recalled the limits of progress in his 2009 message to the Patriarch of Constantinople, in which he stressed the ethical imperative of intergenerational justice. It is the duty of each generation to take into account that it is not the sole beneficiary of the goods of the created world. Linked to this ethical imperative is the message’s assertion that, in addition to discussing the essential political, economic, technical, and scientific issues, a ‘conversion of the heart’ of contemporary man is essential to addressing the ecological problem. But what is especially telling is the fact that compared to the papal message sent three years earlier, the Pope’s message is now quite dramatic: the head of the Catholic Church warns that the objective goals of protecting creation are directly linked to survival, i.e., they effect the chances of survival of the human race and all people of good will must therefore be drawn into communion under the umbrella of these objective goals (Benedict XVI 2009b).

I consider particularly important point 4 of Benedict XVI’s message for the 43rd World Day of Peace, where the following questions are asked: ‘Can we remain indifferent before the problems associated with such realities as climate change, desertification, the deterioration and loss of productivity in vast agricultural areas, the pollution of rivers and aquifers, the loss of biodiversity, the increase of natural catastrophes and the deforestation of equatorial and tropical regions? Can we disregard the growing phenomenon of “environmental refugees”, people who are forced by the degradation of their natural habitat to forsake it—and often their possessions as well—in order to face the dangers and uncertainties of forced displacement? Can we remain impassive in the face of actual and potential conflicts involving access to natural resources?’ (Benedict XVI 2010). The text does not shy away from naming very specific phenomena linked to the ecological crisis, from climate change to climate migration. It is alarming to note that it is not uncommon today to deny, relativize, and gloss over these phenomena, often in an intellectual context that is not in the least hostile to Christianity.2 It goes without saying that Pope Benedict did not wish to interfere in specific practical solutions, but do not the phenomena listed above oblige Christian thought to apply its heritage to the study of concrete phenomena? In this regard, it can also find support in thinkers such as Robert Spaemann, who, as mentioned above, was so important to Benedict XVI, and, among other things, warned of the dangers of nuclear energy and advocated its non-use (Spaemann 2011). A similar effort is needed today on the issue of climate change, which many in our time deny, or at least relativize—but the legacy of Pope Benedict XVI cannot be invoked in favor of this ecological relativism.

4. The Orthodox Background

It is no coincidence, I believe, that Benedict XVI expressed his ecological ideas not least in his messages to Patriarch Bartholomew. This ecumenical relationship was already evident in the thinking of Joseph Ratzinger in the early 1980s. The second of his Munich speeches, entitled ‘God Created in the Beginning’, deals in detail with the accusation that the unscrupulous exploitation of nature is attributable to Christianity, because Christianity treated the phenomena of the cosmos not as ‘brothers’ but as objects to be freely used. As already mentioned, this accusation was made to great effect by the historian Lynn White in his paper on the historical roots of our ecological crisis. And when Patriarch Bartholomew, in the early 1990s, commissioned John Zizioulas to undertake a theological analysis of the ecological crisis, the theologian, perhaps the most authoritative Orthodox thinker of his time, himself drew on Lynn White’s accusations. This link between the Ratzinger of the eighties and the Bartholomew of the nineties is certainly remarkable.

It is a well-known fact that on 8 November 1997, at an environmental event in California, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, in a novel way, extended the concept of sin to human activity that damages the natural environment, stating that he who damages the natural world commits sin. He stated that “to commit a crime against the natural world is a sin. For humans to cause species to become extinct and to destroy the biological diversity of God’s creation; for humans to degrade the integrity of Earth by causing changes in its climate, by stripping the Earth of its natural forests, or destroying its wetlands; for humans to injure other humans with disease; for humans to contaminate the Earth’s waters, its land, its air, and its life, with poisonous substances—these are sins” (Chryssavgis 2023). The concept of environmental damage as a sin was indeed radically novel at the time it was uttered, since ‘it was the first time that a religious leader had ever identified harming the environment with committing sin’ (Chryssavgis 2016, p. 176).

In 1997, the ecological reflection of the Patriarchate of Constantinople already had a rather prestigious history. Following his election as Ecumenical Patriarch in October 1991, Bartholomew identified the following as the main areas to which he wished to devote attention: vigilant theological, liturgical, and pastoral formation; strengthening Orthodox unity and cooperation; pursuing ecumenical relations with other Christian churches and denominations; intensifying inter-religious dialogue for peaceful coexistence; and initiating dialogue and action to protect the environment against ecological pollution and destruction. There can be no doubt that in this way Bartholomew was the first religious leader to include the ecological issue among his main objectives, together with appropriate action. It is precisely for this reason that he began to be referred to relatively early on as the ‘green patriarch’ (Chryssavgis 2019, pp. 183–202). It can be argued that the Catholic magisterium of Pope Paul VI (cf. Encyclical Octogesima adveniens) and John Paul II (cf. Encyclicals Redemptor hominis and Laborem exercens) had addressed the ecological problems well before Patriarch Bartholomew, but the qualification of the harms done to the environment as ‘sin’, along with regarding the ecological issue as a major problem, justifies the claim that the Patriarch introduced a novel approach and a novel rhetoric to the Christian theological landscape. In the ecological literature, “alarmism” denotes a mindset that is aware of the deep ecological crises and is eager to do something to overcome it—over against “relativism”, which is skeptical about the range and seriousness of the problem. In this sense, I argue that Patriarch Bartholomew is a representative of an alarmist ecotheology and is followed in this by Popes Benedict XVI and Francis.

An important precursor to this action was the declaration of the Patriarchate of Constantinople to dedicate a specific day of each year to issues related to the protection of the natural environment, at a conference held in 1988 to celebrate the 900th anniversary of the Monastery of St. John the Theologian on the island of Patmos, to which the Universal Patriarchate sent Metropolitan John (Zizioulas) of Pergamon as a representative. It was not only this intention itself that had important consequences later on, but also the participation of Zizioulas, who has become one of the most influential thinkers in Eastern Christianity and whose ecological reflections form a significant part of his oeuvre (Chryssavgis and Asproulis 2021). A year later, in 1989, the current Patriarch’s predecessor, Dimitrios, issued an encyclical “for the fullness of the Church”, and in a circular letter calling for vigil and prayer, he designated 1 September as a day of attention to the natural environment in the churches under the jurisdiction of the universal Patriarchate. In March 1992, Bartholomew organized a historic meeting in the Phanar with all the Orthodox Patriarchs, during which he discussed the Christian dimension of the ecological crisis in depth, and in the final document issued at the end of the event, all the Orthodox Church leaders declared themselves in favor of a day of environmental awareness on 1 September. The ecclesiastical importance of the issue, which is highlighted each year on 1 September by a special encyclical, was further underlined by the fact that in 1991, a renowned hymn poet, the monk Gerasimos, was commissioned to write a liturgical text with prayers for the natural environment. The vespers is unique in that it no longer only prays for the absence of natural disasters, but also asks the Creator to protect us from man-made disasters, by calling for repentance and conversion, recalling the still unspoilt state of paradise (Vespers 2001).

In the encyclicals of 1 September, the issue of climate change became more and more prominent. In 2008, the ‘green patriarch’ pointed out that climate change, caused by irrational human behavior, could destroy not only the immediate conditions for human life but the whole context of life on Earth in general, and two years later, in the context of the international financial crisis, he pointed out that climate change could completely erode the foundations on which the already fragile economic system rests (Chryssavgis 2012, pp. 59–61, 63–64).

The fact that the Orthodox Church has taken such a strong stance on climate change and the ecological crisis in general has had a not inconsiderable theological history and, of course, has had manifold consequences. Among these antecedents, the work of Philip Sherrard is particularly noteworthy, while the thinking of John Zizioulas is particularly noteworthy in terms of the consequences.

Philip Sherrard, who joined the Orthodox Church in 1956, owed his Christian commitment, unusually, primarily to his discovery in Greek poetry and Greek life of a form of relationship to created reality that he had considered unattainable in the Western context, and became convinced that this distinctively Greek vision of the world was unthinkable without the Orthodox tradition. In parallel with his acquaintance with the ‘cosmology’ expressed in modern Greek poetry and the Greek rural way of life, he also became increasingly close to Eastern Christianity. In 1947, he came across the poems of George Seferis, the poet who later won the Nobel Prize for Literature, which literally opened up a new world to him. According to his later recollections, this event was the starting point of his experience of Greece, of his relationship with the “other mind of Europe” (Sherrard 2015, pp. 37–50), for he suddenly became aware that the poems of Seferis contained a voice, a very special response and reaction to life. In many of his later books, Sherrard sought to illuminate the nature of technology, the right relationship with the natural environment, man’s place in the cosmos, and the significance of the ‘sacred traditions’ of the various religions, based on the Greek relationship with the world, the Greek way of perceiving, and the Greek way of looking at life.

His books on the modern destruction of nature and on “sacred cosmology” leave no doubt that he wanted to go back to the image of the world reflected in the Eastern Christian tradition, which he discovered in the great Eastern church fathers, not least in St Maximos the Confessor, but which he also experienced on Mount Athos and among the inhabitants of Greek villages. It was these concrete experiences and theological explorations that awakened in him the need to speak out for the rehabilitation of ‘sacred’ religious traditions that preceded the superficial experience of the world as defined by technology and that were closer to the essence of reality and beings (Sherrard 1992). It is a common misunderstanding that Philip Sherrard equated all religious traditions (see e.g., Ladouceur 2019, pp. 304–5), but this reading wrongly identifies his thinking with the traditionalist metaphysical school (Louth 2022).

The theological consequences were mainly seen in the work of John Zizioulas. Zizioulas stressed in several places that, in the context of the ecological crisis, it is above all important to correctly interpret the divine command given to man in the Book of Genesis, the task entrusted to man by God: the well-known biblical idea that man is the ‘steward’, ‘guardian’, and ‘lord’ of creation is not wrong in itself, but it is problematic because it has created a very wrong perception in modern man, who has felt empowered to exploit nature. Zizioulas does not hesitate to admit that Christianity (and, in his view, Western Christianity in particular) has itself sometimes been unfaithful to the biblical spirit, but that is precisely why it must take responsibility for a world that is suffering ecological disaster: ‘the Christian Church and its theology have indeed been to a large extent responsible for the emergence of the ecological problem in our time, [but], in spite of that, they possess resources that can be of help to humanity in its present crisis. The ecological problem, therefore, although being a problem of science and to a large degree of ethics, education and state legislation, is also a theological problem. As it is evident that certain theological ideas have played an important role in the creation of the problem, so it must be also the case that theological ideas can help in its solution’ (Zizioulas 2011, p. 154). Hence, the conviction of Zizioulas is that we must focus on the term “priest of creation” in order to find a new understanding of man’s place and vocation in the world. The notion of priesthood does not reflect the need for some ritualistic ecology, but rather, on the one hand, it suggests that man must relate to God’s creation with reverence, and on the other, it highlights the moment of sacrifice, the fact that man is destined to represent the whole world before God, since man has the whole world present in him, unites the whole world, and is free from natural necessities (Skira 2003). This conception of the “priest of creation” combines patristic anthropology, a theological evaluation of the modern history of science, the results of biblical exegesis, and the liturgical emphasis of orthodox theology.

5. Pope Francis and the Ecological Crisis

It seemed important to me to present the work of Patriarch Bartholomew and some Orthodox theologians at some length, because I am convinced that Orthodox reflection plays an extremely important role in the background of the ecotheology of Pope Benedict and Pope Francis, and forms a common background which in itself provides a specific continuity between the minds of the two Popes. Pope Francis’ ecological reflections are widely known, especially since the publication of his encyclical Laudato si’ (DiLeo 2017). But immediately after his election, in the homily of his inaugural Holy Mass as Pope, he explained that the fundamental task of man is to protect the whole of created reality: ‘The vocation of being a ‘protector,’ (…) is not just something involving us Christians alone; it also has a prior dimension which is simply human, involving everyone. It means protecting all creation, the beauty of the created world, as the Book of Genesis tells us and as Saint Francis of Assisi showed us. It means respecting each of God’s creatures and respecting the environment in which we live. (…) In the end, everything has been entrusted to our protection, and all of us are responsible for it. Be protectors of God’s gifts!’ (Pope Francis 2013).

This early warning was developed in detail two years later in the encyclical Laudato si’ (Pope Francis 2015), the contents of which need not be summarized here. Suffice it to say that the encyclical mentions Patriarch Bartholomew in its very first points, and not only highlights his understanding that ecological damage is a sin, but also lists his ethical and ascetic principles linked to the Eastern Christian tradition: ‘Bartholomew has drawn attention to the ethical and spiritual roots of environmental problems, which require that we look for solutions not only in technology but in a change of humanity; otherwise we would be dealing merely with symptoms. He asks us to replace consumption with sacrifice, greed with generosity, wastefulness with a spirit of sharing, an asceticism which “entails learning to give, and not simply to give up. It is a way of loving, of moving gradually away from what I want to what God’s world needs. It is liberation from fear, greed and compulsion”’ (Pope Francis 2015, nr. 9). The encyclical continues Benedict XVI’s ontological doctrine of creation, in so far as it relates creation to the Trinity, speaks of the mystery of creation, and also revives the traditional patristic doctrine that “the contemplation of creation allows us to discover in each thing a teaching which God wishes to hand on to us” and “the universe as a whole, in all its manifold relationships, shows forth the inexhaustible riches of God” (nrr. 85 and 86).

From an alarmist point of view, however, I find much more instructive Laudate Deum, published eight years later, which testifies that the Catholic message about the protection of creation or ecological conversion can easily remain ineffective and empty if it is not accompanied by concrete measures. This papal text is a powerful and shocking warning: it aims to confront the undeniable reality of climate change, which poses enormous dangers, without mincing words or embellishing the harsh reality. It is clear from the many turns of phrase in the document that Pope Francis is concerned about the situation of our planet and therefore does not shy away from speaking of a ‘world in collapse’ (nr. 2), ‘irreversible consequences’ (nr. 15), a ‘critical point’ (nr. 17), ‘devastating consequences’ (nr. 56), and ‘continuing decline’ (nr. 57). The use of strong words is explained by the fact that in the eight years since Laudato si’, the Pope has perceived that the fact of climate change is not receiving the attention it deserves and, above all, that the necessary steps are not being taken to slow down the process. The document argues that climate change is not simply an ‘environmental’ or ‘green’ issue, but a crisis that directly affects human beings and human coexistence, and that its solution requires not just ‘environmental’ or ‘creation protection’ measures, but a rethinking of human existence and coexistence at its very roots. In this sense, climate change is a social problem, and it is therefore important that Laudato si’ was not a ‘green’ encyclical but a social encyclical from the outset. Another significant fact is that the attention given to the ecological crisis is specific to the universal Church. It is no accident that Laudate Deum explicitly refers to the warnings of the bishops of the United States, the convictions of the bishops of the Synod for Amazonia, and the cry for help of the African bishops (nr. 3).

A characteristic manifestation of the alarmism of Laudate Deum is that the document refers to a number of specific data. It notes with regret that scientific data are often questioned, and Pope Francis even states that there are ‘certain dismissive and scarcely reasonable opinions’ that he encounters, ‘even within the Catholic Church’ (nr. 14). The reference to scientific data is accompanied by a claim of trust in the major institutions: the Pope is keen to draw on the findings of the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) and discusses the COP (Conference of the Parties) at considerable length (nrr. 44–60). The Pope leaves no doubt that he is critical of a mentality that expresses concern about the ecological situation but ‘lacks the courage to make fundamental changes’ (nr. 56). Francis does want to see clean energy sources, wind and solar energy, deplores the fact that the steps taken to promote clean energy are often a distraction (nr. 55), and is alarmed by the amount of misinformation and deception about energy sources (nr. 29). According to Laudate Deum, anyone who only smiles at warnings that are perceived as “green” and romantic is irresponsible (nr. 58). He knows that the financial crisis of 2008 and the pandemic that began in 2020 were not enough to shake up humanity. Indifference and irresponsibility are the reasons why climate change, too, is producing various symptoms as a ‘silent disease’ (una enfermedad silenciosa), to which many people simply turn a blind eye. But the Pope refuses to give in to indifference. His latest apostolic exhortation cries out strong words to the world’s public and calls for cultural changes that reflect the Christian conviction that man cannot exist without other living beings (nr. 67).

6. A Threefold Continuity

I want to argue that there is a threefold continuity between Pope Benedict and Pope Francis in the context of the ecological crisis: both represent an ontological doctrine of creation; both point to concrete and tangible dangers to the created world, while urging concrete action; and finally, both are intrinsically linked to the orthodox ecotheology whose first foundations were probably laid by Philip Sherrard, whose formal principles were formulated by Patriarch Bartholomew, and whose theological implications were elaborated in detail by John Zizioulas.

But their focus is different. Joseph Ratzinger’s theological work over several decades focused on illuminating the theoretical foundations of the Catholic doctrine of creation, warning against the divinization of creation, and attempting to show the place of man in the whole of the created cosmos. His interest in ecology only came to the fore as he was made supreme pontiff of the Catholic Church. Already in his first speech, Pope Francis warned of the importance of preserving created reality; in his encyclical Laudato si’, he made important theoretical observations related to the ecological crisis, and with a strong passion, demanded more and more concrete solutions and actions to the crisis. The alarmist mindset expressed in the writings of both Popes seems inconceivable without the orthodox theology, whose alarmism demands an ascetic approach to creation on the one hand, and on the other hand, seeks to contribute with very concrete initiatives to the development of a new way of life. I argue, therefore, that although their emphases differ, there is continuity between Pope Benedict and Pope Francis in terms of theory (ontology) and practice (alarmism), and that they share common ground in their connection to orthodoxy.

Where can this common link be observed? Firstly, it can be observed in the way in which they explicitly address the manifestations of the ecological crisis; secondly, it can be observed in the way in which they point out the unjust consequences of the ecological crisis (the hardships suffered by the poorest of the poor); and thirdly, it can be observed in the way in which they see the Earth as a created reality that cannot be properly addressed without respect for the Creator.3

These aspects are more or less obvious. There is, however, one factor that is less often discussed, although it deserves serious attention: the aspect of beauty. In his 1 September encyclical from 1994, Patriarch Bartholomew claimed that ‘Created by God, the world reflects divine wisdom, divine beauty, and divine truth’ (Chryssavgis 2012, p. 33). Two years later, he cited Dionysius the Areopagite, saying that ‘it is good to participate in beauty; indeed, beauty is participation in that cause which beautifies all good things. This supersubstantial good is called beauty due to the loveliness which it transmits to all beings, to each one appropriately’, requiring ‘a clearer sight of divine beauty in nature’ (Chryssavgis 2012, p. 39). In 2006, he emphasized that ‘[t]he God of tender mercy and love for mankind created the cosmos to be a place of sublime beauty” (Chryssavgis 2012, p. 57). In an article for Seminarium in 2010, he confessed his ‘belief in the sacredness and beauty of all creation’ (Chryssavgis 2012, p. 130). In a characteristically Orthodox manner, he linked the beauty of creation to liturgical worship, arguing that the ‘liturgy is the eternal celebration of the fragile beauty of this world’ (Chryssavgis 2012, p. 150). It should come as no surprise that orthodox ecological thinking, as I mentioned, began with Philip Sherrard’s reflections on poetry and the beauty of the Greek landscape (see Chryssavgis 1998).

Beauty, again, was a fundamental dimension of the thought of Benedict XVI, though it is rarely highlighted in a substantial way. ‘I have often affirmed my conviction that the true apology of Christian faith, the most convincing demonstration of its truth (…) are the saints and the beauty that the faith has generated’, formulated Ratzinger in a 2002 address to the movement Communion and Liberation (Benedict XVI 2002). It is clear from the quote that he considered beauty to be inseparable from truth, and even discovered in beauty the most convincing proof of truth. But it is also clear that ‘Pope Benedict’s theology of beauty concerns not merely the arts, but even more importantly such matters as (…) our friendship with Christ, and the lives of the saints’ (Ramage 2015), i.e., spiritual beauty, which finds its culmination in holiness, the liturgy, and eventually in Christ. Of course, it would be surprising if one could not find references to the beauty of the created world in his speeches and addresses. Indeed, he talks about ‘contemplating the beauty of creation’ (Benedict XVI 2014, p. 39), the ‘beauty and harmony of nature’ (Benedict XVI 2014, p. 50), or about the Holy Spirit coming ‘to meet us through creation and its beauty’ (Benedict XVI 2014, p. 5). It was convincingly argued that the young Ratzinger wanted to reassert and retrieve those dimensions of Christian thought which scholastic theology had neglected during his university studies, such as history, personal existence, and, above all, beauty (Rowland 2008, p. 6). Ratzinger ‘does not see the category of beauty as something that stands outside theology’, and ‘reiterates Bonaventure’s theme that God allows himself to be glimpsed first in creation, in the beauty and harmony of the cosmos’ (Rowland 2008, p. 131).

As far as Pope Francis is concerned, the encyclical Laudato si’ contains several references to ‘irreplaceable and irretrievable beauty’ (nr. 34) and ‘to the beauty that there is in the world’ (nr. 97). In an address to artists on 17 February 2022, he said that the “Holy Scriptures speak to us a lot about the beauty of the universe and all that it contains, and which refers by analogy to that of the Creator. They also remind us that each of us is called by nature to be an artisan and a guardian of that beauty” (Pope Francis 2022). Such statements could be listed in length. Instead, I would like to refer to just one factor, the fact that Pope Francis attaches particular importance to poetry. He is, of course, as can be seen from the foregoing, not at all indifferent to the beauty of the created world, but within artistic beauty, unlike Pope Benedict, he places greater emphasis on poetry than on music. In his latest encyclical, Dilexit nos, poetry also comes to the fore (Francis 2024, nr. 11),4 and his letter on the importance of literature and reading follows the same trend, based also on his experiences as a Jesuit teacher of literature back in Buenos Aires.

Again, the emphasis differs, since Pope Benedict emphasizes the beauty of the liturgy, in which the spiritual beauty of the created world is brought to its climax, while Pope Francis emphasizes the beauty of material reality, and places particular importance on the beauty of poetry, along with the beauty of the individual experience of life.

7. Conclusions

Despite the differences in emphasis, Pope Benedict and Pope Francis share similar views on the doctrine of creation and the ecological crisis, both in theory and in practice. Interestingly, their common views are closely linked to Orthodox theology, to which both are intrinsically linked. From this point of view, the reality of beauty, which is as explicit in the two popes as it is in Patriarch Bartholomew, is a phenomenon rarely studied. The two popes’ alarmist warnings do not allow what they say about beauty to be reduced to mere aestheticism, but, like Orthodox thinking that emphasizes the beauty of the world and the liturgy, their ecological views are incomprehensible without the dimension of beauty. Other common points could be mentioned (most notably the theory of structural sin), but for me, this time, it was beauty that stood out most. I think there exists a continuity between the two Popes that involves change, but—as mentioned above—does not result in a rupture, i.e., in contrary views. What was developed on the theoretical level by Pope Benedict XVI (especially in terms of a theology of creation) is continuous with what Pope Francis has expressed in more practical terms, i.e., with regard to concrete steps to overcome the ecological crisis.