Feast of Christ the King 2025

 Last month, King Charles traveled to Rome for his first meeting with the Holy Father since his accession to the throne. The visit itself was significant—but afterward he went to the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, where something quieter and more symbolic took place. The monks had prepared a special chair for him: hand-carved, beautifully made, adorned with the royal coat of arms, and engraved with the Latin words Ut unum sint—“That they may be one.”

Those words aren’t just a motto from the basilica. They come straight from the Gospel—John 17:21—where Jesus, at the Last Supper, prays to the Father “that they may all be one.” In other words, that chair wasn’t only a gesture of hospitality to a visiting king; it was a reminder of Christ’s deepest desire for His Church: unity, reconciliation, and the healing of divisions.

But if you stood in that basilica and looked past the royal chair—impressive as it was—you would eventually lift your eyes to the great apse mosaic above the altar. There, Christ is seated in glory, radiant, majestic, enthroned not on carved wood but on the very authority of heaven and earth. And in that quiet contrast—an earthly king receiving a symbolic seat, and the King of the Universe reigning from eternity—you begin to sense the heart of this feast.

Earthly kings are honored with seats of dignity. Christ, our King, chooses a cross.

That contrast carries us straight into today’s Gospel. We find Jesus enthroned in the most unexpected way: not on a golden seat, but nailed to a wooden cross. His crown is made of thorns. His royal proclamation is a sign meant as mockery: “This is the King of the Jews.” And yet it is precisely from this place of utter vulnerability that Christ reveals the depth of His kingship.

Worldly kings sit above their people; Jesus hangs beside the suffering.
Worldly kings rule through might; Jesus rules through mercy.
Worldly kings save themselves; Jesus refuses to save Himself so that He can save us.

And in this moment, a man who has nothing to offer—no resume, no righteousness, no innocence—turns to Him and whispers the heart’s most desperate prayer: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And the answer comes instantly, with the authority only a true King can give: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Right there, on a cross between two criminals, the throne room of heaven opens. The King reigns by forgiving. His crown is compassion. His scepter is mercy. His glory is love poured out to the end.

The first reading prepares us for this. The tribes come to David saying, “Here we are, your bone and your flesh,” recognizing him as a shepherd long before he became a king. And that is exactly how Jesus rules: as the Shepherd who knows His sheep, the One who searches for the lost, the One who calls us His own.

St. Paul takes it further, reminding us that “in Him all things hold together.” In a world that often feels like it is coming apart—politically, socially, personally—Christ is the One who keeps us grounded, centered, and whole. His kingdom is not threatened by elections or borders or turbulence. His reign is not shaken by the instability of this world. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.

So yes, it is meaningful that King Charles was given a chair in a great basilica, marked with Jesus’ prayer for unity. But it is far more meaningful that the true King—Christ—needs no chair. His throne is the wood of the cross. His coronation is His sacrifice. His reign is eternal.

And that chair in Rome—the one carved with “that they may be one”—becomes a reminder that Christ’s kingship is not about domination but about reconciliation. His kingdom is not built on force but on forgiveness. The sign above His head says “King,” but the actions from His heart say “Mercy.”

So as we celebrate Christ the King today, maybe the question for us is this:
Which seat do we approach?
The comfortable chair of earthly prestige and position?
Or the humble throne of the crucified Lord—the place where mercy meets us, forgives us, and sends us out renewed?

May we stand before the true King today, the One who reigns from the cross, who remembers us in our weakness, and who opens Paradise to all who turn to Him.