@slimboyfat
The core misunderstanding in your message is a conflation of
possibility with plausibility—and in historical or genealogical
claims, those are not the same thing. Of course it’s not physically impossible
that a pope had a Jehovah’s Witness relative; people convert, families
fracture, strange things happen. But a story being theoretically possible
isn’t the same as it being evidenced. That’s the whole point. What
matters here is not whether such a relationship could ever occur somewhere,
sometime—but whether it happened in this specific case. And on that
count, there is simply no documented support.
To say “she could simply be the cousin of the Pope” is to
gloss over the fact that being someone’s first/second cousin is not a general impression or
vibe—it’s a very specific biological relationship, requiring shared great-grandparents. We know who Pope Benedict’s great-grandparents were. We know who
Stefanie Brzakovic’s great-grandparents were. They’re not the same people. Not even
close. This isn’t speculation; it’s documented in parish records, family trees,
and multiple independent genealogical sources. That’s why serious inquiry rules
the claim out—not because it’s outlandish in the abstract, but because it’s
untrue in the concrete.
And let’s not pretend this was treated like just another
ordinary claim. She didn’t say, “I think we might be distantly related.” She
said the Pope was her cousin, that he called her personally, and that he
praised her JW evangelism—an anecdote conveniently mirroring decades-old JW
propaganda narratives. This isn’t a harmless quirk; it’s a perfect
faith-affirming tale, told without evidence, that contradicts every available
genealogical fact and cultural pattern. That raises red flags.
Your suggestion that critics are “determined” to deny it
says more about your stance than theirs. Critical inquiry doesn’t start from
emotional investment—it starts from what can be proven. The burden of
proof lies with the person making the claim. No one is “determined” that this
couldn’t possibly be true. What we are saying—quite clearly—is that there is no
evidence that it is true. And when the only thing sustaining the
story is hearsay, nostalgia, and a circular trail of newspaper echoes, that’s
not evidence. It’s folklore.
You also pivot into an odd digression about Ratzinger’s
election, as if public perception or Austrian disappointment somehow bolsters
the cousin story. It doesn’t. The fact that Christina Odone or British
comedians were surprised by Benedict’s election has zero bearing on the
veracity of a woman’s family anecdote in Australia. That portion of your
message is an excellent illustration of misdirection—shifting the focus from
whether the claim is true to how some people felt about an unrelated
event. That isn’t critical thinking; it’s emotional buffering.
And finally, your swipe at AI “spewing plausible sounding
but patently ridiculous arguments” is ironic—because that’s exactly what this
anecdote is. It sounds charming and vaguely plausible to someone not
familiar with the geography, naming customs, or genealogical details of rural
Bavaria—but it collapses instantly under scrutiny. That’s not the AI’s fault.
It’s the strength of rigorous reasoning over feel-good stories.
If we care about truth, sincerity isn’t enough. Sentimental
stories must still pass the test of evidence. And this one simply doesn’t.
