2 Sam. 5:1-3; Col. 1:12-20; Lk. 23:35-43.
Without revealing who he was, the king pushed his way forward, took off his heavy coat, and rushed into the flames. Moments later, he emerged coughing and burned, carrying the frightened child in his arms. Only after placing the child safely in his mother’s embrace did the people recognize him and kneel in shock. When his advisors scolded him later, he simply said, “A king’s life is worth no more than the life of one of his subjects.”
That night, he was not called “Your Majesty.” He was called “The King Who Saved.”
Today we celebrate the great Feast of a King who came down to save the humanity. This feast proclaims boldly and clearly that Jesus is the King not only of the Church but of the whole universe, the King not only of saints but of sinners, the King whose reign never ends. Every earthly kingdom rises and falls, every empire fades into history, but the kingship of Christ remains forever. Yet this King did not claim His throne like earthly rulers do. He did not enter the world with armies at His side nor with trumpets announcing His power. Instead, He came in humility, clothed in human weakness, and crowned with thorns, revealing to us a kingship rooted not in domination but in love.
The first reading from the Second Book of Samuel takes us back to the moment when all the tribes of Israel came to David in Hebron. They said to him, “We are your bone and your flesh” and acknowledged that God had chosen him to shepherd Israel. It is striking that when God establishes a king, He does not describe him as a warrior, a tyrant, or a dictator, but as a shepherd. A shepherd leads with care, sacrifices for the flock, defends the weak, and gives his life if necessary. In the ancient world, the greatness of a king was often measured not by his wealth but by how much he gave of himself for the sake of his people. History remembers kings like Leonidas of Sparta, who laid down his life at Thermopylae for the sake of his homeland, or King Alfred the Great, who disguised himself and lived among his subjects to understand their struggles. Even King Henry V walked through his camp the night before battle to strengthen the spirits of frightened soldiers. These kings are honored because they served.
Saint Paul in the Letter to the Colossians describes Christ with words so powerful that the Church has repeated them for centuries. He calls Jesus “the image of the invisible God,” “the firstborn of all creation,” the one “in whom all things hold together.” This is no ordinary king. This is the One through whom the world was made, the One whose power holds the universe in its orbit, the One who reigns not by election but by divine nature. Yet this majestic King chooses to rule not through fear but through sacrifice. He conquers not nations but sin; He frees not a kingdom but the entire human race. His throne is eternal because His love is eternal.
When we look at the birth of a king’s son in ancient times, we see a pattern almost universal across civilizations. At the birth of a prince, nations would rejoice, trumpets would sound, and kings from distant lands would send gifts to honor the newborn. So it was when Jesus was born. The Magi traveled far, guided by a star, to offer Him royal gifts—gold to honor His kingship, frankincense to acknowledge His divinity, and myrrh to foreshadow His sacrificial death. They fell to their knees, recognizing that this Child was greater than all earthly rulers. Yet while some welcomed His birth, others trembled. History tells us that when royal heirs were born, insecure kings became fearful, even murderous. Herod, threatened by the birth of Jesus, sent soldiers to kill innocent infants in Bethlehem. He feared that a true King had come—one whose throne could not be shaken.
As Jesus grew, He followed a path similar to that expected of royal children in the ancient world. Princes were trained in wisdom, governance, debate, and philosophy. They were expected to converse with scholars and impress the wise. And so we find Jesus, at the age of twelve, in the Temple, “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions,” and all were amazed at His understanding. He did not learn wisdom—He revealed it. Even as a boy, He showed Himself to be the true Son of the King of the universe.
When He began His public ministry, Jesus acted exactly as the prophets had foretold and as a true King would. Earthly kings were often believed to possess the “royal touch,” the power to heal illnesses. Jesus fulfilled this in a divine way, touching lepers and making them clean, calling the blind and restoring their sight, commanding the dead to rise. He fed the hungry not through taxes or armies, but by multiplying five loaves and two fish. He sympathized with the suffering, weeping at the tomb of Lazarus, comforting the widow of Nain, and calming His fearful disciples in the storm.
Jesus also taught with the authority of a King whose kingdom is not of this world. Earthly kings create laws; Jesus proclaimed the Beatitudes, the laws of heaven. He taught that the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, and the persecuted are the true heirs of His kingdom. Through parables, He revealed the secrets of divine life—the Good Samaritan showing mercy beyond boundaries, the Prodigal Son revealing the Father’s endless forgiveness, the Lost Sheep portraying God’s relentless pursuit of each soul. His teaching transformed ordinary lives into sacred stories.
But like every king, Jesus faced temptations—the temptations of power, fame, and control. Satan offered Him bread to win public admiration, a spectacular miracle to gain instant fame, and all the kingdoms of the world in exchange for worship. Many earthly rulers have fallen to such temptations. But Jesus refused them all. He chose not the path of worldly success but the path of humble obedience to His Father. His refusal of fame shows the true strength of His kingship—He came not to be served but to serve.
In His ministry, Jesus confronted evil with the courage of a righteous King. He denounced the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, exposed the corruption of Herod, overturned the tables of those who defiled the Temple, and drove out demons with divine authority. Earthly kings fight earthly battles, but Jesus fought the darkness that enslaves the human heart. His courage was not supported by armies but rooted in truth.
Yet for all the miracles, teachings, and acts of compassion, the true moment of Christ’s kingship is found in today’s Gospel—on a hill called Calvary. There, soldiers mocked Him and crowds jeered. There, He hung on a wooden throne, crowned with thorns. A sign was placed above His head, intended as mockery: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” But in the eyes of heaven, it was the truth. His throne was the Cross, His glory was sacrifice, His royal decree was forgiveness: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And the first soul to enter His Kingdom was not a noble or a scholar but a repentant thief who prayed, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” To him the King of Mercy answered, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
This is what makes Jesus truly the King of Kings. He was foretold by the prophets, worshiped by the Magi, feared by earthly rulers, wise beyond human learning, healer of the sick, feeder of the hungry, comforter of the sorrowful, teacher of eternal truth, conqueror of temptation, challenger of evil, and Savior through His death. He rose in glory, ascended in majesty, and will return in triumph. His kingdom is everlasting because it is built not on force but on mercy, not on violence but on forgiveness, not on wealth but on love.
This feast reminds us that if Christ is truly our King, then we must live as citizens of His Kingdom. As we honor Christ the King today, let our hearts proclaim, not only with our lips but with our lives, that Jesus reigns. He reigns when we forgive, when we serve, when we love, when we stand with the poor, when we resist temptation, when we spread hope in a world of fear. Let us therefore renew our faith in Him who reigns from the Cross, who lives in glory, and who will return in majesty.
Satish