In the 2010 movie The King’s Speech, we meet Prince Albert, Duke of York — known to his family as “Bertie” — who unexpectedly became King George VI, at the very onset of the Second World War.
When we hear the word "King," our minds automatically conjure up images: crowns, gold, and power. A king's authority is often symbolized by the strength of his voice—his ability to speak with command.
The great crisis of Bertie’s life was not a foreign enemy, but his own profound, paralyzing stammer. Though he was called to lead his nation on the brink of World War II … to inspire, and to rally his people … he struggled to speak at all — every halting word betraying his own weakness, fear, and limitation.
This weakness threatened to defined his kingship.
To truly reign, he had to find his voice, a voice trapped within his own vulnerable humanity. His true strength was unlocked only when he embraced and conquered this personal internal struggle.
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King — the final Sunday of our Church year. Next Sunday, we will start a new Church Year, and enter into Advent. But today, the Church asks us not to think of a baby in a manger, but to look at the majestic, eternal King.
This struggle to find true authority brings us to our Scriptures, which reveal a God whose sovereignty is constantly turned upside down.
The First Reading introduces us to the second human King of Israel, King David. The people asked him to be their shepherd and commander. David’s kingship was born out of relationship — “your [own] bone and your [own] flesh.” David had proven his leadership through loyalty, protection, and care for the flock. The Lord Himself called David “a man after [God’s] own heart.” This human kingship pointed to something far greater: leadership defined not by wealth, or power, or palaces, but by a self-sacrificial love for his people.
Our Second Reading explodes this image into the universe. It reminds us that Christ is not just the commander an earthly kingdom; He is the universal King. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. He existed before time began, He created everything, and in him, “all things hold together.” Yet, this King of infinite power reconciles everything to Himself “by the blood of his cross.”
Which brings us to today’s Gospel. If you want to see the King of the Universe enthroned, don't look at a gilded palace. Look to the Cross. The soldiers and the crowds demanded that He use His power for self-preservation, mocking Him with the title: “The King of the Jews.” But Jesus shows us a different kind of sovereignty. His power is revealed in His weakness. He does not command legions; instead, He asks God the Father to forgive His executioners.
The profound act of Christ’s divine reign is revealed in his final words to the criminal hanging beside him. This criminal, who acknowledged his own guilt, saw past the current circumstances to the true authority of God — the authority of mercy saying, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
And what is the voice of Christ the King in his moment of ultimate vulnerability? How does the King of Kings, the Word Made Flesh speak from the cross? It is the purest expression of His divine authority.
Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.
This is the promise of Christ the King to us. His shepherding care, His divine power, and His unconditional mercy all converge on the Cross. His kingdom isn't built on force; it’s built on forgiveness, grace, and mercy.
As we approach this altar to receive the Sacred Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ — let us choose Him as our King and Lord. His kingship is defined by humility and service, and so our own discipleship must be defined by the same.
Like our King, let us seek the lost, speak with mercy, and cling to the Cross. Our “King’s Speech” is found in the living Word of God. He has already promised us Paradise. Let us pray that we may have the faith to say to Jesus: "Remember me," and live our lives as loyal subjects of Christ our Risen King.
