Solemnity of Christ the King (Year C)

Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

First Reading: 2 Samuel 5:1-3
Psalm: 122
Second Reading: Colossians 1:12-20

Gospel: Luke 23:35-43

The rulers sneered at Jesus and said, “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God.”

Even the soldiers jeered at him. As they approached to offer him wine they called out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.”

Above him there was an inscription that read, “This is the King of the Jews.”

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.”

The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation? And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Anchor Verse

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” – Luke 23:42-43

grayscale photo of the crucifix
Photo by Alem Sánchez on Pexels.com

🔎 Lens: The King Who Reigns from the Cross

Pope Benedict XVI, in his 2008 homily for Christ the King, said something that stops us short: “Christ’s kingship is not based on human power, but on the power of truth and love.” He was crowned not with gold but with thorns. His throne? Two planks of wood. His subjects? Criminals and mockers.

As we celebrate Christ the King at the end of the liturgical year, we are called to remember that this is where the story has been heading all along: not to earthly triumph, but to a throne we’d have walked past without noticing.

Jesus is a different kind of king. He rules with love, mercy, and justice, and his kingdom will never end. But we’ve been made to believe that leadership is about control. About resisting vulnerability because it looks like weakness. Jesus short-circuits all of this. He reveals that leadership is about the last being the first, where losing your life means finding it, where the king is the one who serves.

This matters because if Christ’s kingship is about self-giving love, then our discipleship must be too. We can’t compartmentalize this—claiming Jesus as Lord on Sunday while operating by worldly power structures Monday through Saturday.

That’s the kingdom. And if we’re in it, we carry it differently than we think.


Reflection Prompts

  1. When you think of Christ as King, what image comes to mind first? A triumphant ruler? A gentle shepherd? A suffering servant? What does your instinctive image reveal about what you’re hoping for from Jesus?
  2. Where in your life are you most tempted to seek power through control rather than through service? (At work? In your family? In conversations where you need to be right?)
  3. The criminal asks Jesus to remember him. What would it mean for you to trust that being remembered by Christ is enough—even when you have nothing else to offer?
  4. If Christ’s kingdom is “already present in mystery,” where might you be missing it because it doesn’t look like power the way you’ve been taught to recognize it?

Weekly Practice

At Mass

During the Gospel proclamation, pay attention to the moment when Jesus speaks to the criminal: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Notice: Does this feel too easy? Does part of you want Jesus to demand more proof, more penance, more evidence of worthiness before granting paradise?

Just notice. Don’t judge what you notice. This is information about what you’ve been taught to believe about mercy.

After Mass

This week, identify one area where you’ve been trying to control an outcome you cannot actually control.

It might be:

  • A relationship you’re trying to fix through sheer willpower
  • A work project where you’re micromanaging because you’re afraid
  • A family dynamic where you keep pushing for resolution that isn’t coming
  • An interior struggle you’re trying to think your way out of

Your practice: Make one small gesture of surrender.

This doesn’t mean giving up or becoming passive. It means naming the truth: “I cannot force this. I can only tend to my part and release the outcome.”

Say it out loud if you need to. Write it down. Let your body feel what it’s like to unclench your hands.

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