So many people today are easily blinded by the glitter of power—status, wealth, authority, influence. But Christ shows us a power the world can never imitate, a power that does not dominate but heals, that does not crush but lifts up, that does not take life but gives it. As we celebrate Christ the King of the Universe, our Gospel reveals the King we follow—not seated on a throne or surrounded by soldiers, but hanging on a cross, wounded and bleeding, yet still loving. The inscription above His head, meant to humiliate Him, proclaimed: “King of the Jews.” To the world it was a crime, but to us it is the deepest truth: the crucified Jesus is the King who conquered sin and death. His crown of thorns shines with victory; His throne of wood becomes the place from which the world is redeemed.
Even in His final agony, Jesus reveals the tenderness of His heart. A thief beside Him whispers the simplest, most humble prayer: “Remember me.” He does not ask for rescue, comfort, or a privileged place in the kingdom—just remember me. And Jesus, with His last breaths, opens heaven to him: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” This is our King—a King whose last earthly act was forgiveness, whose final strength was mercy, whose dying words were a promise of life. We, too, fear the many pains of life—the pain of sickness, aging, separation, responsibility—but without the crucified Christ there is no risen Christ, without the cross no empty tomb, without sacrifice no glory. In God’s hands, suffering is never wasted; every cross carried with love becomes a seed of triumph.
Jesus Himself tasted the bitterness of ridicule and rejection. Even one of the thieves crucified beside Him mocked Him and cried out, “If you are the Son of God, save yourself and us!” It was a temptation to abandon the Father’s will, yet Jesus remained faithful. Love does not walk away when it hurts; love stays, endures, and gives everything. And Jesus gave everything so that we might never taste eternal death, but eternal life. The repentant thief teaches us humility: he admitted his guilt, accepted the consequences, and simply entrusted himself to the mercy of Jesus. In return, he received not only forgiveness but paradise, a word that once meant the walled garden where the King walks side by side with His beloved.
A story from World War II captures this same truth. Five men and three women stood before a firing squad. Eight soldiers were ordered to execute them. But one soldier, Private Joseph Schultz, lowered his rifle, stepped forward, and stood among the condemned, holding their hands. A silent moment passed before the shots rang out. He died with them. In his pocket was a line from St. Paul: “Love takes no pleasure in evil, but rejoices in the truth.” When love reigns, evil trembles. When love reigns, darkness breaks. When love reigns, the Kingdom of God becomes visible in our world.
The kingdoms of this world protect the king at all costs. But in the Kingdom of God, the King dies for His people. Our King does not send others to suffer for Him; He goes before us. He enters every fear, every loneliness, every cross we carry—and transforms them from within. And so we cry out with faith: Viva Cristo Rey! Long live Christ the King—the King who reigns from the cross, the King who remembers the forgotten, the King who forgives the sinner, the King who walks with His beloved in the garden of heaven. May His love reign in us. May His mercy conquer us. May His cross lead us home. Amen
