On February 28, 2013, a crowd gathered in the square in front of the Apostolic Palace of Castel Gandolfo. As the heavy doors of the palace were closed shut, one lone voice broke the eerie silence, shouting “Viva il-Papa”. The rest of the crowd broke into spontaneous applause. That marked the end of Pope Benedict XVI’s eight-year papacy.

It was a surreal end to a papacy which did not elicit much applause, though it was never intended to. It ended differently from all the papacies of the past 600 years, with resignation rather than death. Many were surprised at this move from the man often depicted as the strict enforcer of tradition. However, this betrays an ignorance of the significance of Catholic tradition.

Pope Benedict XVI, just like the Church he led, thought in millennia rather than decades and centuries. Before being elected pope, he once provocatively suggested that the Church is a real democracy because “even the dead have a vote”. Therefore, decisions could not be taken based on popularity. Instead, they had to consider the experiences of the faithful throughout the ages, the tradition of the saints, the great liturgical tradition and the tumultuous times that were equally formative.

According to Pope Benedict XVI, the Church belonged to everyone. It transcended cultures and borders, also transcending time and space, thus belonging to the people of yesterday, today and tomorrow. Therefore, for him, the Church could only dialogue with the spirit of the age, though never compromise. To do so would be to deny its very identity.

Joseph Ratzinger was born into a humble family in Bavaria in April 1927. He had a happy childhood. War interrupted his idyllic family life. Forcibly conscripted into Hitler Youth and, later, the Luftwaffenhelfer, the young Ratzinger bitterly resented the Nazis to the point where he deserted in 1945, returning to his family.

He could then pursue his vocation and was ordained priest in 1951. His piercing intellect was immediately apparent. By 1958, aged 31, he was already a full professor. His academic career took him to the Second Vatican Council, to which he became a valid adviser and later a defender of what he saw as its proper interpretation. In 1981, he was appointed Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.

His two-day visit to Malta in April 2010 gives us a glimpse of the depth of the man

This Curial appointment would lead to many clashes – and misunderstandings – with the broader public, who saw him as dogmatic and inflexible. It also earned him the enmity of various ambitious clerics within the Curia. The hostility and toxicity he faced from within, perhaps, continued to contribute to his image as an inflexible ogre.

Yet, he was anything but. His two-day visit to Malta in April 2010 gives us a glimpse of the depth of the man.

On arriving, he described himself as a “father and a brother”; at St Paul’s Grotto as a “pilgrim”. At the Granaries, he called for “discernment”. He urged young people to be attentive to the needs of others and to extend their “friendship to members of all faiths and none”.

During this trip, he also made the ground-breaking gesture of meeting abuse victims. He expressed “shame and sorrow” for what took place but nothing can completely heal the wound. Did he do enough to stem and punish the abuse? That is up for discussion.

Many will not be too kind to his memory and others will judge him unfairly. Yet, those who read and engage with his ideas will come to a different conclusion.

Benedict had none of the charm and compassionate leadership of his successor, but he certainly left a major mark on the Catholic Church.