Okay, slimboyfat, I've done my research, now it's your turn. Instead of the usual bullying, try to refute me. Here's the family tree of Pope Benedict's mother:
https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Rieger-106
And this is the email I received yesterday from the parish in Garmisch, informing me about Mrs. Brzakovic's mother:
hier die Antworten zu Ihren Fragen:- in
der Pfarrei St. Martin Garmisch konnte ich im Taufbuch den Eintrag von
Katharina Berger, geb. am 20.08.1894 finden. Sie wurde am 21.08.1894
ebenso in Garmisch getauft.
- die
Eltern waren: Johann Berger und Barbara Bartl (aus Farchant?). Die
Großeltern werden im Taufbuch nicht eingetragen. Das erste Taufbuch in
Garmisch beginnt ab dem Jahr 1886, daher ist eine Recherche in Garmisch
vor dieser Zeit nicht möglich.
- andere
Einträge zu familiären Verbindungen kann ich aus dem Taufbuch leider nicht
entnehmen bzw. sind für mich nicht lesbar.
According to Mrs. Brzakovic, her mother and Pope Benedict's mother were first cousins, could you explain how that is possible?
First, the issue is not that nicknames cannot cross borders, but that their use signals cultural and regional embeddedness. In the case of “Pepi,” it's not merely that it exists in Vienna and Bavaria both — it's that in Upper Bavaria, especially rural Traunstein where Joseph Ratzinger was born and raised, “Sepp” or “Sepperl” is and was overwhelmingly standard. Every contemporary Bavarian source – including his living relatives and his own writings – confirms that “Sepp” was how he was known. “Pepi” is not impossible in Bavaria, but it's extremely atypical, and its sudden appearance in one single anecdote, decades after the fact, from someone whose documented geography and genealogy lie nowhere near the Ratzinger family orbit, is conspicuous. In critical historical analysis, it’s exactly these linguistic details that flag a story as unlikely. It's not about algorithms – it's about coherence with the cultural record.
Second, your rhetorical question — "What’s more likely, that an old JW woman was related to the pope, or that she made up memories and invented quotes?" — ignores the most basic principle of historiography: extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. It’s not about attacking a person’s character or assuming malice. It’s about plausibility. There is no genealogical link. None. The parish record from Garmisch confirms her mother’s lineage (Berger and Bartl), and those names appear nowhere — not once — in any of the Pope’s documented ancestry going back five generations. This isn’t ambiguous. The burden of proof lies on anyone asserting a family connection to show how it’s possible.
And no, newspapers get things wrong all the time — especially when given feel-good, unverifiable human-interest material in the wake of global media frenzy like a papal election. A local reporter being told, “I’m the Pope’s cousin” by a cheerful elderly lady doesn’t ring investigative alarm bells when it’s charming and harmless. But repetition in the press doesn’t retroactively create evidence. And yes, people do fabricate stories, sometimes unconsciously or nostalgically, especially if they’re drawn into the glow of attention. This isn’t cynicism; it’s documented human behavior.
As for the quote — “You Witnesses do the work we should be doing” — yes, of course people from other denominations have said that kind of thing. But that doesn’t make it more likely that the Pope did. That’s the point. It's a known Watchtower trope. The issue is not that the quote is impossible, but that it is suspiciously perfect. It fits a preexisting pattern used for decades in Witness literature to create an “admired outsider” motif. It’s too ideal. And when a quote aligns too cleanly with an in-group’s propaganda narrative, from a single unsourced anecdote, it becomes deeply suspect.
Finally, the idea that the Pope — a lifelong defender of Catholic orthodoxy, who spent decades theologically opposing the very doctrines JWs reject (the Trinity, sacraments, the primacy of Peter) — would place a personal call to a long-lost cousin and effectively praise their preaching while ignoring the doctrinal chasm between them, without ever making public mention of the call, issuing no private audience, and leaving no trace in Vatican records, defies both logic and protocol. Popes have acknowledged relatives in far more tenuous connections — yet not a word about Brzakovic? The silence isn’t mysterious; it’s telling.
This isn’t about malice or disdain. It’s about method. The story lacks corroboration, contradicts documented genealogical fact, stretches geography, ignores cultural-linguistic patterns, and reads like a well-meaning myth. The Catholic apologetics doesn’t dismiss personal stories lightly — but it insists they be tested by reason and evidence. This one fails that test.
