“Today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Lk 23:43)

On this final Sunday of the liturgical year, the Church lifts our gaze to Christ the Universal King—He who conquers not by force, might, or violence, but by self-giving love. Pope Pius XI instituted this feast in 1925 to reassert Christ’s kingship in a world shaken by secularism, dictatorships, and war. A century later, the world still wrestles with the same temptations to power without God. Today, we are invited once more to recognize not only that Christ is King, but how He reigns. The readings unfold the mystery of His kingship. In 2 Samuel, Israel acknowledges David as the Lord’s chosen king, a kingship that ultimately finds its fulfillment in Jesus, the Son of David whose reign “will have no end.” Colossians then lifts the veil higher: Christ is not simply another ruler—He is the image of the invisible God, the beginning and the end, the One through whom and for whom all things were created. His authority is cosmic, yet His heart is tender. And in the Gospel, His throne is the cross, His crown is made of thorns, and His first royal decree is mercy: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” This solemnity confronts us with a paradox: Jesus is a King utterly unlike the kings of this world. • Earthly kings arise in palaces; Christ enters history in a manger. • Earthly kings are robed in splendor; Christ hangs naked on a cross. • Earthly kings surround themselves with nobles; Christ chooses the company of sinners. • Earthly kings wield power to be served; Christ uses power to serve. His kingship is not political, economic, or territorial. It is a spiritual kingship—a reign of truth, mercy, love, and eternal life. He is the King who dies so that His subjects may live. In a world where leaders still cling to power for control, prestige, and revenge, Christ reveals a radically different model: leadership as service, authority as sacrifice, and greatness as humility. If presidents, prime ministers, monarchs, and all who hold influence patterned themselves on the crucified King, the world would be more just, compassionate, and humane. But this feast also calls each of us to a personal response. The two thieves on Calvary reveal two ways of relating to Jesus: one mocks Him, the other recognizes Him. The repentant thief speaks the simplest, most beautiful prayer: “Jesus, remember me.” And with breathtaking tenderness, Jesus responds with a promise immediate and eternal: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” The King who reigns from the cross grants salvation to a man with nothing to offer except trust. In our own lives, we can easily mock Christ’s kingship—not with words, but by how we live: when we treat holy things casually, neglect the sacraments, embrace idols of power or pleasure, or allow sin to dominate our choices. Yet Jesus remains the ever-merciful King who waits for the smallest turning of our hearts. Today, as the liturgical year closes, we are invited to renew our allegiance. To say with sincerity: “Jesus, remember me. Be my King.” For the one who surrenders to Him, the promise remains unchanged: Paradise begins today. Christus vincit. Christus regnat. Christus imperat. Christ conquers. Christ reigns. Christ rules.