Commentary on the Gospel – November 23, 2025

Dear brothers and sisters, peace and goodness to you.

We Christians can be a little strange sometimes. We live in the world, but we also follow our own rhythm. The year (the liturgical year) is ending, and next week we’ll calmly be able to say, “Happy new liturgical year.” That’s the kind of thing faith does to us.

Today is the last Sunday in Ordinary Time. In one week, we begin Advent. This feast was established by Pope Pius XI in challenging times—when totalitarian movements were rising in Europe, back in 1925. It used to be celebrated on the Sunday before the Solemnity of All Saints. In the mind and intention of Pius XI, you can detect one last dream of Christendom. That’s why, in the encyclical Quas primas (December 11, 1925), he wrote that, faced with growing atheism and the secularization of society, all people should recognize the sovereign authority of Christ.

The prayer of the day asked that all peoples, scattered by the wound of sin, might submit to the gentle rule of Christ’s Kingdom. The Pope, with the best intentions and quite a bit of optimism, hoped for confessional, Catholic governments in which the authority of Christ and the Gospel would not be questioned.

In 1970, Pope Saint Paul VI changed the title of the feast, which became the Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, to be celebrated on the last Sunday of the liturgical year. Part of the prayer was also changed; now we say: “that all creation, freed from the slavery of sin, may serve your majesty and praise you without end.”

Now, in 2025, our kings don’t have the authority or power they had a century ago. Most of them reign, but they do not govern. Today, on this feast, we Christians want—and we ask God for this—that Christ may reign over the universe; that is, in the hearts and lives of all people. But we must remember that it is we, human beings, who have the responsibility to govern this social and political world we live in. We believe this is Christ’s will—our model—who never intended to make this world his kingdom. That’s why every day in the Our Father we ask God: “Your Kingdom come.”

The first reading speaks to us about a king. David, the youngest of his brothers, is anointed king of Israel in Hebron. He must continue—or improve—the work of Saul, becoming the shepherd of his people. Why does this small story become the first reading for the feast of Christ the King? Perhaps because Jesus is God’s answer to the prayers and expectations of his people. He is the Messiah, the King who “shall rule from sea to sea, from the River to the ends of the earth” (Ps 72:8). If this is true, then why didn’t the Israelites listen to him? Why did the elders of the people want him crucified instead of anointing him as king, as their ancestors had done with David in Hebron? The Gospel gives us the answer: the Kingdom is not only something we desire—it is something we must accept and work for.

History has seen many kings, and most of them tried to govern on false foundations. A human society cannot endure for long if it is built on lies, violence, brute force, the disregard for human rights—especially the rights of the weakest—the destruction of dissent, systematic distrust, and denunciation. Even if propaganda tries to dress it up, such a society is mortally ill. The former Soviet Union, or many Latin American dictatorships, are clear examples. We have discovered how those massive, inhuman states were actually monsters with feet of clay.

In contrast, we are presented with the life of Jesus—a man insignificant in the eyes of the world, with no power other than the persuasive force of his words: no economic power, no army, no pomp of any kind. A most unusual King. Born in a manger, not a palace; a man who worked for his bread. He exercised an authority with a human face. His power was not force but attraction—letting himself be found by everyone. Zacchaeus, the Samaritan woman, Matthew, Mary Magdalene… Many people were won over by Christ’s example and witness. A very different kind of king.

This King is mocked by the leaders of the people using the third temptation of Satan, reminding him that he is God’s chosen one. The soldiers mock the political meaning of the title “Messiah”: a king is supposed to have power (as the devil told Jesus in the desert). But Jesus’ Kingdom is not of this world, as he answered Pontius Pilate. The criminal crucified beside him represents the strongest temptation, because he is suffering with Jesus. It is the most diabolical of tests: “Aren’t you the Messiah?” You have to be deeply rooted in God the Father not to give in, not to abandon the Father’s will.

And in the midst of the trial, there is also a spark of hope. On Calvary itself, the Kingdom of God begins: to the good thief Jesus says that today he will share full happiness with him. The man who never found peace in this world found it at the end of his life—resting with Christ in Paradise.

It is up to each one of us to decide. Do you want to be part of a story filled with hope? The liturgical year is ending. Look at your life and prepare yourself so that Advent, which is already at the door, does not catch you unprepared. You can become a friend of a King who does not inspire fear but tenderness; who does not seek to punish you but to make you happy; who does not limit your freedom but brings it to its fullness… A very different King, who invites you to be one of his own. He is waiting for you. Will you be like the leaders, like the soldiers, like the thief who insulted Jesus—or like the good thief? The choice is yours.

Your brother in the faith,