Daily Reflection

Reflection for November 23, 2025

The King on the Gibbet

On this solemnity, the Church invites us to gaze upon a throne. It is the Cross. Our King is crowned, not with gold, but with thorns. His royal court is composed of soldiers casting lots, leaders who scoff, and a crowd that stands watching. The inscription above His head, "This is the King of the Jews," is intended as a cruel joke, but it proclaims a truth deeper than any could imagine.

In this scene of utter dereliction and humiliation, the kingship of Christ is revealed in its fullest, most paradoxical glory. The world’s idea of power is turned upside down. The saving power of God is not displayed in a show of force that shatters the wood of the Cross, but in a love that endures it.

The Threefold Mockery and the Response of Mercy

The Gospel presents three voices of temptation and rejection, echoing the temptations in the desert:

The Leaders: "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God." They demand a sign, a messiah of spectacle and self-preservation.

The Soldiers: "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself." They mock a kingship that does not involve conquest and domination.

The Criminal: "Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us." He represents the temptation to use God for our own temporal deliverance, to see faith as a transaction for personal gain.

In the face of this threefold challenge, Jesus is silent. He does not answer their taunts with words. Instead, He answers with action—the ultimate action of self-emptying love. His kingship is not about saving Himself, but about saving others.

The Thief's Act of Faith and the King's First Decree

Then, a fourth voice breaks through. It is the voice of the "good thief," a man we know as St. Dismas. In the darkness, he sees a light that no one else can see. Surrounded by the logic of power and despair, he makes an astonishing act of faith.

He first acknowledges his own sinfulness and the justice of his punishment, a profound act of humility. Then, he turns to Jesus and, seeing beyond the blood and the nails, he professes: "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

Consider the faith in this statement! He looks at a dying, condemned man and sees a King on the verge of entering His kingdom. He looks at the instrument of torture and sees a gateway to paradise. This is a vision of pure faith.

And to this faith, the King responds with His first royal decree from the throne of the Cross. He does not say, "I will consider it," or "Perhaps later." He proclaims with divine and absolute authority: "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

This is the essence of Christ's kingship. It is a kingship of immediate, unmerited, and overwhelming mercy. His first subject in His kingdom is not a saint, not a scholar, not a apostle, but a repentant criminal. His power is made perfect in mercy.

Where is His Kingdom?

The Kingdom of Christ the King is not a territory; it is a relationship. It exists wherever a human heart, in its own poverty and brokenness, turns to the crucified Lord and says, "Remember me." It is established in the moment we acknowledge our need for a Savior and recognize His kingship not in worldly success, but in sacrificial love.

This solemnity asks us: On which side of the Cross do we stand? With the scoffers, demanding God conform to our narrow ideas of power and rescue? Or with the good thief, who in humble faith, saw a King in the broken body of Jesus and entrusted his entire being to Him?

We are invited to make the prayer of St. Dismas our own: "Jesus, remember me." In our failures, our doubts, and our final moments, we can turn to this King who reigns from the Cross, trusting in His promise of paradise. For His Kingdom is the Kingdom of mercy, and its gates are forever open to those who, in faith, ask to enter.

A Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, King of Mercy,
Your throne is the Cross, and Your crown is of thorns.
You reveal Your power not in saving Yourself, but in saving us.
Help me to see Your kingship in the moments of my own suffering and helplessness.
Give me the humility of the good thief to acknowledge my sins,
and the radical faith to recognize Your Kingdom even in the darkness.
When I am tempted to doubt Your power, remind me that Your promise of paradise is stronger than death.
Jesus, remember me, a sinner, and welcome me into Your eternal Kingdom.
You who live and reign forever and ever. Amen.