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Reflection By Dawn Heldt, Learning & Teaching Coach - Religious Education. St Peter's College First Reading 2 Samuel 5:1-3, Second Reading Colossians 1:12-20, Gospel Luke 23:35-43
Background to the Gospel:
In this conversation, we hear one of the criminals challenging and questioning Jesus about his power. We also hear the other criminal defending Jesus and pointing out that Jesus had done nothing wrong. The good thief simply asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. Jesus promises him that he will be remembered and that being remembered by God is paradise. The Kingship of Christ is not about earthly power, land, buildings, riches or might. The power of Christ the King is seen in his remembering and holding every person in this world close; calling each one of us by name.
Reflection
Standing at the foot of the cross in this passage, we are confronted with a king whose power looks nothing like the power of this world. Instead of armies, he is surrounded by pain, suffering, and mockery. Instead of a throne, he hangs on a cross. Instead of using strength to save himself, he uses love to save others. And yet, it is precisely here—at his weakest moment—that the true power of Christ the King is revealed.
When the criminal turns to Jesus and says, “Remember me,” it is one of the simplest and most vulnerable prayers in all of Scripture. He has nothing to offer—no good deeds, no defense, no promises of change. He has only one plea: remember me. And Jesus responds not with judgement, but with a promise: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
This moment shows the kind of king Jesus truly is. He is the King who hears even the faintest cry. He is the King who sees beyond sin and shame to the heart that longs for mercy. He is the King who remembers every person—not just the strong or the righteous, but the broken, the afraid, the forgotten. His power is not in domination but in compassion; not in commanding obedience but in knowing and calling each one of us by name.
In a world where people can easily feel unseen or unimportant, this passage reminds me that Christ holds every human life with tenderness. He remembers us even when we feel unworthy. He looks at us with the same eyes of mercy he turned toward the criminal at his side. His kingdom is made not of walls or weapons, but of relationships—of a love that refuses to let anyone slip away unnoticed.
Christ the King shows his power not by saving himself, but by saving others. Not by proving who he is, but by remembering who we are: beloved, known, held. His kingship is shaped by mercy, and his crown is love. And in that love, he whispers to each of us personally, “You are mine. I know you. I hear you. I see you. I remember you. Come with me.”
