America magazine: Vatican II and Pope Leo’s ‘kingly’ role

by M. Cathleen Kaveny May 7, 2026

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“After a fat pope, a thin pope”—or so the Italians say. 

The saying doesn’t refer to the B.M.I. of the successive occupants of the see of Peter—it is a metaphor for their general outlook and style. Some Catholic commentary has tacitly drawn on its underlying sentiment to suggest that Pope Leo XIV will take a strikingly different attitude toward the Second Vatican Council than his predecessor, Pope Francis. Rather than prioritize aggiornamento, he will cultivate ressourcement. Rather than embracing the novus ordo, he will look kindly on the traditional Latin Mass. Rather than encouraging young Catholics to “make a mess” as Pope Francis did, he will promote law and order.

But this way of analyzing different and successive papal styles is insufficient for three reasons. First, the binary it proposes is too simple, and even simplistic. Second, it is too oppositional. It presents a successor pope as if he is a candidate from a different political party who seeks to undo the work of his predecessor. Third, and most important, it is not theologically grounded. 

A far better schema can be found in the ancient understanding of the munus triplex—the threefold work of Jesus as prophet, priest and king. First articulated by Eusebius of Caesarea (circa 263-330), the munus triplex helps structure “Lumen Gentium,” Vatican II’s “Dogmatic Constitution on the Church.” 

All Catholics, lay and ordained, participate in the threefold work of Christ. But the schema offers a particularly helpful way of understanding the work of the pope, the vicar of Christ. All popes must faithfully exercise all three aspects of Christ’s work. Yet different times in the life of the church may call for a pope who emphasizes one aspect over the other two, without denigrating or replacing them.

In my view, St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI both stressed the prophetic aspect of the munus triplex. This may seem counterintuitive. When we think of prophets, we think of wild-eyed, wild-haired social outcasts. But if we read “Lumen Gentium” carefully, we should think instead of teachers and witnesses. Professors by both temperament and training, both John Paul and Benedict helped the church think and learn about what fidelity to the Gospel entails in the contemporary world. While John Paul focused more on moral questions, emphasizing in particular the dignity of each human being, Benedict concentrated on metaphysical and epistemological issues: He asked us what it means to hold to Christ’s truth in an era pervaded by relativism.

Francis most fully embodied the priestly role of Jesus, which prioritizes healing, forgiving and reconciling. His two predecessors had clarified doctrine in the wake of the tumult of Vatican II. But they had not fully dealt with the wounds of the world and of the church, many of which were self-inflicted. The Argentine pope met with the outcasts of both the church and world, calling for a “revolution of tenderness.” Just as St. Francis of Assisi embraced a leper, Francis encountered a man similarly deformed by neurofibromatosis. He healed by listening—most of all to victims of clergy sexual abuse.

What about Leo XIV? I suspect he will prioritize Jesus’ kingly role. As “Lumen Gentium” makes clear, fidelity to Christ’s kingship requires being both a shepherd and a suffering servant—not a self-involved despot. The crown Jesus wears is adorned with thorns, not with jewels. Very little, it appears, could be more painful than dealing with the thorns of church bureaucracies, both in Rome and around the globe. But Leo must take on this task if the prophetic and priestly contributions of his predecessors will have a lasting impact on future generations of Catholics.

As Leo himself is acutely aware, Vatican II is moving from personal memory to institutional memory in the life of the church. Only four of the over 2,000 bishops who participated in the council are still living. Pope John Paul II entered the council as an auxiliary bishop; he left as archbishop of Krakow. Pope Benedict XVI also attended the council; he served as the theological advisor to the archbishop of Cologne; Pope Francis did not attend, but he had entered the Jesuits before it convened. In stark contrast, when the council opened in October 1962, Pope Leo XIV was just starting second grade. No bishop, priest or Jesuit, he was a little boy who would have just made his first holy Communion.

In my view, Leo’s main task is to embed Vatican II in the institutions of the church. The council is not merely a set of documents; it limns a three-dimensional way of encountering God and other people, including but not limited to fellow members of the body of Christ. He needs to ensure that this body develops “muscle memory” for the teachings of Vatican II. I think that Leo is fully cognizant of his task. For example, he is taking steps to institutionalize and regularize the practice of synodality, which grows directly from Vatican II’s ecclesiology. 

As a servant leader, Leo must help the first postconciliar generation hand down the patrimony of a council that they not only did not attend, but also do not remember. Servant leadership supports the prophetic and priestly functions of the munus triplex, allowing doctrinal integrity, social trust, mercy and forgiveness to pass from generation to generation.

This January, Leo began a series of weekly catechesis sessions on Vatican II itself. Although he recognizes that decades have passed since the council closed in 1965, he is insistent that it must be kept vibrantly alive in our institutional memory. Leo writes: “As we approach the documents of Vatican II and rediscover their prophetic and contemporary relevance, we welcome the rich tradition of the life of the Church and, at the same time, we question ourselves about the present and renew our joy in running towards the world to bring it the Gospel of the kingdom of God, a kingdom of love, justice and peace.”