Christ the King

“Are you a king?” Pilate’s question is a good one. How could anyone look at Jesus and believe he was a king? There he stood before Pilate, bound in chains. He had no armies, no throne, and not even any followers left. He looked nothing like the kings of this world. Yet, Jesus was a king. He is a king—a king like no other.

The kings of this world often seek to enrich themselves, to command servile obedience, and to wield their power to dominate others. But Jesus is different. He is a king who unites with his followers in solidarity. Unlike worldly kings, he uses his infinite power and freedom not to enslave but to choose suffering and death.

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Thirty-third Sunday Per Annum

“Learn a lesson from the fig tree. When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves, you know that summer is near.” Mark 13:28 As human beings, we are naturally curious about the future, and we often seek signs in this world to guide us. We analyze political trends to predict elections. If you’ve ever followed an election closely, you’ll know how, at times, the winner is announced before a single vote is officially counted in a state. The signs are so clear that the counting becomes a mere formality. Similarly, we study financial markets to increase our wealth or determine the best time to make major purchases, like buying a home. In our daily lives, we read subtle cues to gauge moods and decide when it’s best to speak to someone. We are constantly seeking to predict and control our future, striving to ensure everything goes well for us.

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Widow Ministry Reflection - Luke 7:11-17

At the gates of Nain, Jesus meets a widow carrying the weight of grief and vulnerability—and he steps in without being asked. This reflection lingers over Christ’s compassion, his touch that stops the funeral procession, and the startling command: “Young man, rise.” More than a miracle, it is restoration: a son returned, dignity renewed, hope reborn. It also becomes a call to the Church to share that same mercy, especially with the overlooked and sorrowful, trusting that death never has the final word.

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