Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Jesus Christ: The King Who Reigns From The Cross

Rev. Marcel Divine Emeka Okwara, CSsR

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Church of St. Bridget of Minneapolis, MN

Sunday, November 23, 2025

Today, we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. Everything we've said and celebrated about Jesus points to this truth—that he is the King of our lives, to whom we owe absolute obedience and allegiance. At the end of each liturgical year, we recall Paul’s kerygmatic declaration, “Yesu Kyrios,“ Jesus is Lord. Jesus is King. 

Many of us consider God the Father to be the ultimate King, and Jesus to be God’s prime minister. When we say “Jesus, the Son of God,” we might think this makes him “the junior God.” Some even doubt his full divinity and simply call him “the man for others,” or “the super saint,” or perhaps “the super social and miracle worker.” But John tells us from the start of his Gospel that Jesus was “with God” and “was God” (John 1:1). When Thomas the Apostle called him “my Lord and my God” (John 20:28), Jesus did not rebuke or correct him. The Nicene Creed we recite every Sunday describes him as “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father; through him all things were made.” At the beginning of his letter to the Colossians, Paul, the first Christian theologian, makes a statement that, along with the Prologue of John’s Gospel, is one of the strongest and most profound declarations about Jesus in the Bible: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” God is invisible; we cannot see him. However, if you want to get an idea of what God looks like, look at Jesus. He is the icon of the invisible God. Whenever you read the Gospels and see Jesus speaking and acting, it is God himself doing and saying those things. Paul also says, “In him everything in heaven and on earth was created, things visible and invisible.” This indicates that Jesus himself was not a creature. He is not one among many creatures. Rather, he is the one through whom all creatures were made. In the words of St. John, Jesus is the Word, the Logos by which all things were ordered, determined, and made. All things reflect him. All things embody his truth. He is the beginning of all reality. But that’s not all. Paul also states, “In him everything continues in being.” He is before all things, and all things exist through him. He is the organizing principle of reality.

When scientists examine the world, seeking understanding and order, they are seeing the reflection of this Logos. Going further, Paul states, “All were created for him.” He is the purpose of all existence—this planet, the solar system, galaxies, the farthest reaches of the cosmos, visible and invisible things—were all created for him. He is the Alpha and Omega, and every letter in between. Furthermore, St. Paul adds, “It pleased God to make absolute fullness reside in him.” Anyone who claims that Jesus is just one religious figure among many is completely mistaken. If you see him as merely an inspiring figure among others, you are wrong. If you declare him as the greatest prophet, you are mistaken. Those who say he is one of many messengers sent by God are wrong. Seeing him as a symbol or reflection of God is incorrect. Jesus is himself God—Lord of lords and King of kings. 

But what does Jesus look like? Today’s Gospel (Luke 23:35-43) takes us to Golgotha, a garbage dump outside Jerusalem where criminals were crucified. It brings us to a throne unlike any other in the world. It’s not made of gold or ivory. It’s not guarded by soldiers or covered in velvet. It’s a cross. And on it hangs our King. He is pinned to this terrible instrument of torture—the cross. In his death chamber and agony, he is alone. He is stripped naked. Luke tells us that as he was writhing in pain, abandoned by his followers, the rulers sneered, the soldiers who specialized in executing people on the cross mocked, and even one of the criminals crucified beside him joined in the jeering. All of them repeat the same taunt: “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself.” If you really are the Messiah…If you really are the King…If your power is real…Prove it. Come down from the cross. He is abandoned, forgotten, and dying. Ironically, he is the one that Paul was talking about. 

But Jesus does not come down. Why? Because God’s true power is not shown in escaping suffering but in transforming it. The true kingship of Christ is demonstrated not by self-preservation but by self-giving. If Jesus had saved himself, he could not have saved us. The very thing the crowd demanded would have ruined the mission of love he came to fulfill. But amid this torrent of mockery, a different voice rises—the voice we call the Good Thief, the repentant criminal, Saint Dismas. While everyone else sees the cross as a sign of failure, Dismas perceives something divine. He recognizes innocence. He sees mercy. He perceives a King. He admits the truth about himself: “We have been condemned justly.” He acknowledges the truth about Jesus: “This man has done nothing criminal.” And then he utters one of the most beautiful prayers ever spoken: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Notice his request. He does not ask to be taken down from the cross. He does not ask for a miracle, rescue, or a change of circumstances. He asks for a relationship: Remember me. He asks for communion: Bring me with you. He asks for mercy: Welcome me into your kingdom. And Jesus responds not with a lecture, not with a delay, not with a list of conditions, but with immediate, abundant mercy: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

This is the heart of our King. A King who reigns not by domination but by love. A King who conquers not by the sword but by forgiveness. A King whose throne is a cross and whose crown is made of thorns. A King who remembers sinners when the rest of the world would rather forget them. The world still thinks power means control, that greatness means success, that salvation means avoiding the cross. But the Gospel reveals a different truth: we find life when we give ourselves away in love. We find glory when we imitate the humility of Christ. And we enter the kingdom not by our achievements but by opening our hearts to the mercy of God. Today, the Church invites us to stand where the Good Thief stood. To confess our sins honestly. To say with humility: “Lord, remember me.” And to trust that He will answer us as He answered Dismas: “Today… you will be with me.” Not only at the hour of death, but today—right now—in every moment we allow His grace to reign in us.