Too often in recent weeks, I have read or heard newspersons describe the pope as “the head of the Catholic Church.” Every time, I would mutter to myself, “The pope is not the head of the Church. The head of the Church is Jesus Christ.” Pope Pius XII made that clear in his 1943 encyclical Mystici Corporis (The Mystical Body) if it were ever in doubt.

The pope is often called the vicar of Christ, although in a much earlier tradition, people referred to him as the vicar of St. Peter. I am happy with either one of those monikers, although my favourite papal title is servant of the servants of God. That puts all of us in our place which is far lower than God. 

Pope Francis knew his place, and he knew Jesus too. That is not to imply that earlier popes were somehow ignorant of Jesus. Many of those from the last 150 years have been canonized or at least beatified. So the Church judges them to have had more than a nodding acquaintance with the King of Kings. However, Pope Francis had a special relationship with Jesus. He made him real for our age by both talking about him and trying to live with the spirit of humility and courage Jesus displayed.

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I started re-reading the Gospel of Luke this week, and Jesus does come across as somewhat similar to the recently deceased pontiff. Of course, Jesus did things that no pope can do alone – perform miracles, read people’s hearts, leave the Temple elders amazed and befuddle the devil. 

But Jesus’ words in the synagogue – “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor” – might well have been spoken by Pope Francis. Maybe I am missing something here since Jesus is the Son of God, and the pope assuredly was not. Still, among the questions every new bishop is asked during the rite of consecration is whether he will welcome the poor, strangers and those in need. He is then anointed to do so.

Pope Francis took that promise seriously as does the newly inaugurated Pope Leo XIV. There’s no need to enumerate the many ways the former and the new popes have lived up to that promise. You know them.

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However, the question arises: if the servant of the servants of God is committed to the poor, what about those of whom he is the servant? How do priests and laity serve the poor in their daily lives? Are we afraid of the poor and homeless, or are we in solidarity with them?

Solidarity has many faces. One can pray for the poor and for greater justice in society. One can donate financially to organizations that serve the poor. One can work in the Society of St. Vincent de Paul warehouse. But in the final analysis, if you are to exercise the virtue of solidarity, you must meet marginalized people face to face.

For many folks, encountering the homeless, a prostitute or a prisoner is too scary to contemplate, especially if you are alone. You are afraid of being robbed or beaten, not knowing what to say or just getting dirty. But this is where the rubber meets the road.

Jesus went to the Temple, prayed in solitude and taught his disciples. He also had no hesitation in touching the untouchables, eating with sinners and even chastising those who would not share their wealth. The vicars of Christ – and aren’t we all his vicars? – will do what Jesus did.

There are two ways of being Christian. One is belief-centred. We believe what the Church teaches about Jesus, God and the sacraments. The second is action-oriented. Christians follow the path of Jesus, being transformed and transforming those around them. The saints were Christians in both ways, not only the first.

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The Second Vatican Council taught that all baptized people are called to be saints. The call to holiness is universal. We are anointed to be holy. We must live the Beatitudes. 

The most challenging part is getting started. Following Jesus takes courage. Courage is needed to defend the Church’s beliefs. It is also a matter of acting as Jesus acted. Look at these recent popes, including the new one. They are men of uncommon courage, willing to accept rejection and threats to their person to defend the dignity of the outcast. They are vicars of Christ. We can be too.