Christ, King of the Universe
23 November 2025
Are we willing to belong to this King and this Kingdom?
If you ever want to confuse someone,
tell them Christianity is a monarchy.
Watch their face.
A monarchy? Really?
How can we even relate to that?
We live in a world of democracy, freedom, and equal rights. The idea of a king feels outdated,
even oppressive and patriarchal.
Kings belong in fairy tales or history books
— not in a modern parish in Florida.
And yet, today we celebrate Christ the King.
Not Christ the President.
Not Christ the CEO.
Not Christ the motivational speaker.
But Christ the King of the Universe.
Christianity has always proclaimed Jesus as King
— even when his kingship looked like absolute failure.
When you think of a king, what comes to mind?
A crown, a throne, a palace, attendants, power,
the ability to command armies.
That’s what the world expects royalty to look like.
But when we look at Jesus on the Cross,
nothing about him resembles that image.
And yet, that is exactly where he reveals his kingship most clearly.
Throughout the centuries, people have wrestled with this.
The martyrs certainly understood it.
Take Blessed Miguel Pro,
a priest executed for his faith in Mexico in 1927.
As he stood before the firing squad,
arms outstretched like Christ,
he shouted,
“¡Viva Cristo Rey!”
— Long live Christ the King!
From the world’s perspective,
that moment looked like defeat
— but for Father Miguel, and for the Church,
it was a declaration of victory.
Christ was reigning even in that hour,
precisely because his kingdom doesn’t look like earthly kingdoms.
That is the heart of today’s solemnity.
When Jesus inaugurated his kingdom,
it didn’t look like anyone expected.
On Good Friday,
he wasn’t robed in purple
but covered in blood.
He wasn’t seated on a throne
but nailed to a Cross.
He wasn’t crowned with gold
but with thorns.
And just so no one missed the irony,
Pilate placed a sign above his head:
“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”
Far from honoring him,
most of the crowd mocked him.
The chief priests mocked him,
the soldiers mocked him,
passersby mocked him,
even the thieves crucified beside him mocked him.
All of them taunted him in the same way:
“If you’re really a king,
come down from that Cross and save yourself.”
In their minds,
kings only show their power by force.
Kings conquer through domination.
Kings win by proving they’re stronger.
From their point of view,
a crucified king was a contradiction in terms.
For many in Israel,
Jesus’ crucifixion was all the proof they needed that he was not the long-awaited Messiah.
Today’s first reading describes David being anointed king over Israel.
He was the model they had in mind.
David took Jerusalem by force.
He defeated enemies.
He expanded the kingdom.
He was a warrior who crushed opposition.
Surely the Messiah, the Son of David,
would do the same
— and on an even grander scale.
But Jesus did not come to crush Rome;
he came to crush sin and death.
He did not conquer by shedding others’ blood,
but by shedding his own.
He did not build his kingdom by violence,
but by mercy.
Even the Romans struggled to understand him.
When Pilate interrogated Jesus, he asked,
“Are you the King of the Jews?”
Jesus answered,
“My kingdom is not of this world.”
In other words,
You’re thinking of the wrong kind of king.
If my kingdom were like earthly kingdoms,
my followers would be fighting for me.
But that’s not how my kingdom works.
Pilate presses further:
“So you are a king?”
And Jesus answers by revealing the deepest truth about his kingship:
“For this I was born,
and for this I came into the world:
to testify to the truth.”
Rome thought kingship was about power.
Jesus says kingship is about truth.
Rome thought kings ruled by force.
Jesus rules by love.
Even the apostles struggled to understand this.
All throughout the Gospels,
they fight over who is the greatest.
They jockey for the best positions in what they think will be a political kingdom.
James and John even get their mother to ask Jesus to give them the seats at his right and left when he “comes into his glory.”
Jesus tells them — and us — what kingship really means:
“Whoever wishes to be great among you
must be your servant.”
True greatness, true power, true kingship looks like service. And Jesus shows that most perfectly on the Cross.
Someone on Calvary that day actually understood this.
One of the criminals crucified beside Jesus begins by mocking him,
like everyone else.
But somewhere in the agony,
something changes in him.
He looks at Jesus and sees
not a defeated man
but a victorious king.
And he prays one of the most beautiful prayers in Scripture:
“Jesus,
remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Remember… this man is dying.
He has no illusions that Jesus is getting off that Cross.
And yet,
he believes in Jesus’ kingship even more than he believes in his own next breath.
That’s conversion.
That’s faith.
That’s humility.
That’s trust in a king whose throne is a Cross.
And Jesus responds like the generously royal heart he is:
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
The criminal asks to be remembered.
Jesus promises him a kingdom.
This is the kingdom we celebrate today:
A kingdom not of domination,
but of mercy.
A king who does not come to conquer,
but to redeem.
A king who rules not with an iron fist,
but with open, wounded hands.
A king who wins not by force,
but by sacrifice.
A king who died in order to give life.
There are many in our day,
maybe even sitting in these pews this evening/morning,
that think like the disciples did.
There are so many in our day who are quick to look for power in politics,
or to anoint a conqueror in people who are in power in Washington,
whatever the side of the aisle you are on.
Those people are mistaken as to what true power really is.
So what does all this mean for us?
It means we must let Jesus define what kingship looks like — not the world.
We must let Jesus define what victory looks like
— not the world.
We must let Jesus define what greatness looks like
— not the world.
His kingdom is a kingdom of truth,
so we must live truthfully.
His kingdom is a kingdom of service,
so we must serve generously.
His kingdom is a kingdom of sacrifice,
so we must love sacrificially.
His kingdom is a kingdom of mercy,
so we must forgive freely.
His kingdom is a kingdom of courage,
so we must witness boldly.
Christ reigns from the Cross.
And if we want to share in his kingdom,
we must be willing to reign with him from there
— by carrying our own crosses with faith, hope, and love.
Today we proclaim with the whole Church:
Christ is King.
He reigns now and forever
— not by overpowering the world,
but by overpowering sin.
Not by winning earthly battles,
but by winning our hearts.
Not by coming down from the Cross,
but by staying on it.
The real question is:
Are we willing to belong to this King and this Kingdom?
23 November 2025
Are we willing to belong to this King and this Kingdom?
If you ever want to confuse someone,
tell them Christianity is a monarchy.
Watch their face.
A monarchy? Really?
How can we even relate to that?
We live in a world of democracy, freedom, and equal rights. The idea of a king feels outdated,
even oppressive and patriarchal.
Kings belong in fairy tales or history books
— not in a modern parish in Florida.
And yet, today we celebrate Christ the King.
Not Christ the President.
Not Christ the CEO.
Not Christ the motivational speaker.
But Christ the King of the Universe.
Christianity has always proclaimed Jesus as King
— even when his kingship looked like absolute failure.
When you think of a king, what comes to mind?
A crown, a throne, a palace, attendants, power,
the ability to command armies.
That’s what the world expects royalty to look like.
But when we look at Jesus on the Cross,
nothing about him resembles that image.
And yet, that is exactly where he reveals his kingship most clearly.
Throughout the centuries, people have wrestled with this.
The martyrs certainly understood it.
Take Blessed Miguel Pro,
a priest executed for his faith in Mexico in 1927.
As he stood before the firing squad,
arms outstretched like Christ,
he shouted,
“¡Viva Cristo Rey!”
— Long live Christ the King!
From the world’s perspective,
that moment looked like defeat
— but for Father Miguel, and for the Church,
it was a declaration of victory.
Christ was reigning even in that hour,
precisely because his kingdom doesn’t look like earthly kingdoms.
That is the heart of today’s solemnity.
When Jesus inaugurated his kingdom,
it didn’t look like anyone expected.
On Good Friday,
he wasn’t robed in purple
but covered in blood.
He wasn’t seated on a throne
but nailed to a Cross.
He wasn’t crowned with gold
but with thorns.
And just so no one missed the irony,
Pilate placed a sign above his head:
“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.”
Far from honoring him,
most of the crowd mocked him.
The chief priests mocked him,
the soldiers mocked him,
passersby mocked him,
even the thieves crucified beside him mocked him.
All of them taunted him in the same way:
“If you’re really a king,
come down from that Cross and save yourself.”
In their minds,
kings only show their power by force.
Kings conquer through domination.
Kings win by proving they’re stronger.
From their point of view,
a crucified king was a contradiction in terms.
For many in Israel,
Jesus’ crucifixion was all the proof they needed that he was not the long-awaited Messiah.
Today’s first reading describes David being anointed king over Israel.
He was the model they had in mind.
David took Jerusalem by force.
He defeated enemies.
He expanded the kingdom.
He was a warrior who crushed opposition.
Surely the Messiah, the Son of David,
would do the same
— and on an even grander scale.
But Jesus did not come to crush Rome;
he came to crush sin and death.
He did not conquer by shedding others’ blood,
but by shedding his own.
He did not build his kingdom by violence,
but by mercy.
Even the Romans struggled to understand him.
When Pilate interrogated Jesus, he asked,
“Are you the King of the Jews?”
Jesus answered,
“My kingdom is not of this world.”
In other words,
You’re thinking of the wrong kind of king.
If my kingdom were like earthly kingdoms,
my followers would be fighting for me.
But that’s not how my kingdom works.
Pilate presses further:
“So you are a king?”
And Jesus answers by revealing the deepest truth about his kingship:
“For this I was born,
and for this I came into the world:
to testify to the truth.”
Rome thought kingship was about power.
Jesus says kingship is about truth.
Rome thought kings ruled by force.
Jesus rules by love.
Even the apostles struggled to understand this.
All throughout the Gospels,
they fight over who is the greatest.
They jockey for the best positions in what they think will be a political kingdom.
James and John even get their mother to ask Jesus to give them the seats at his right and left when he “comes into his glory.”
Jesus tells them — and us — what kingship really means:
“Whoever wishes to be great among you
must be your servant.”
True greatness, true power, true kingship looks like service. And Jesus shows that most perfectly on the Cross.
Someone on Calvary that day actually understood this.
One of the criminals crucified beside Jesus begins by mocking him,
like everyone else.
But somewhere in the agony,
something changes in him.
He looks at Jesus and sees
not a defeated man
but a victorious king.
And he prays one of the most beautiful prayers in Scripture:
“Jesus,
remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Remember… this man is dying.
He has no illusions that Jesus is getting off that Cross.
And yet,
he believes in Jesus’ kingship even more than he believes in his own next breath.
That’s conversion.
That’s faith.
That’s humility.
That’s trust in a king whose throne is a Cross.
And Jesus responds like the generously royal heart he is:
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
The criminal asks to be remembered.
Jesus promises him a kingdom.
This is the kingdom we celebrate today:
A kingdom not of domination,
but of mercy.
A king who does not come to conquer,
but to redeem.
A king who rules not with an iron fist,
but with open, wounded hands.
A king who wins not by force,
but by sacrifice.
A king who died in order to give life.
There are many in our day,
maybe even sitting in these pews this evening/morning,
that think like the disciples did.
There are so many in our day who are quick to look for power in politics,
or to anoint a conqueror in people who are in power in Washington,
whatever the side of the aisle you are on.
Those people are mistaken as to what true power really is.
So what does all this mean for us?
It means we must let Jesus define what kingship looks like — not the world.
We must let Jesus define what victory looks like
— not the world.
We must let Jesus define what greatness looks like
— not the world.
His kingdom is a kingdom of truth,
so we must live truthfully.
His kingdom is a kingdom of service,
so we must serve generously.
His kingdom is a kingdom of sacrifice,
so we must love sacrificially.
His kingdom is a kingdom of mercy,
so we must forgive freely.
His kingdom is a kingdom of courage,
so we must witness boldly.
Christ reigns from the Cross.
And if we want to share in his kingdom,
we must be willing to reign with him from there
— by carrying our own crosses with faith, hope, and love.
Today we proclaim with the whole Church:
Christ is King.
He reigns now and forever
— not by overpowering the world,
but by overpowering sin.
Not by winning earthly battles,
but by winning our hearts.
Not by coming down from the Cross,
but by staying on it.
The real question is:
Are we willing to belong to this King and this Kingdom?
