Lectionary Commentaries for November 23, 2025
Christ the King

Juxtaposition of this text and Christ the King Sunday is a crucial one for the Christian faith. Each one informs the other: The scene on the cross gives shape to what Christ’s reign really looks like in humility and sacrifice, while highlighting the power Jesus shows during his own death by extending mercy to those hanging with him. 

The tension between these two is felt differently at various points in history as the Christian faith has expressed itself in a wide variety of power contexts. Preachers will know which elements of the story speak powerfully to their people, but potential points of emphasis in our current shared context might include: 

1. 1. the role of relationship in Jesus’ reign or power, 
   2. the expectation of extending grace to those around us, even when it is difficult, and 
   3. the contrast between the world elevating power and prestige and the story of Jesus elevating mercy and self-sacrifice. 

Power in relationship 

The setting of the interaction between Jesus and the other two men signifies the gravity of the moment. Jesus, the innocent one, is placed among those deemed guilty. Those around Jesus, including one of the criminals, mock him, emphasizing his rejection and humiliation. Jesus suffers in public while people watch, something most of us resist with all of our might, retreating to the safety of solitude to experience our deepest struggles. 

Despite the setting of vulnerability, rejection, and physical pain, Jesus uses his power to intercede on behalf of others, first in verse 34 and again in verse 43. Jesus’ instinct to reach out to those who are at the very end—of life, of their rope, of their ability to care or to function—emphasizes that no one is beyond the reach of God’s mercy, and that the cross is the means to making the connection. Relationship is at the core of this kingdom. 

For many people, these recent months and years have been marked not by relationships but by fracture and isolation, sometimes out of frustration, other times out of fear. What does it look like to prioritize relationships in our current context—nurturing healthy ones; grieving damaged ones, repairing them when it is possible, creating new ones when it is not; reaching out to those who are at the very end? 

Unmerited grace 

Remarkably, it is in this moment of humiliation and connection that Jesus embodies the ultimate act of love and forgiveness. Using his power to grant mercy to others, even those actively hurting him, underscores how deeply grace is indicative of the reign of Christ. And it compels those who follow Jesus to take this call seriously in their own lives and relationships. 

Recognizing that Christ’s reign brings not only personal salvation but also a call to work on behalf of the common good of our neighbors, preachers can guide communities to ask themselves the hard questions. 

How do we respond to the King who reigns from the cross? 

Are we ready to extend grace to those around us, even when it is difficult? 

What if they actively work against our best interests? 

Are we willing to embrace the radical love that Jesus exemplifies? 

Honesty with these questions will mean seeing ourselves in an unflattering mirror. Our resistance to these questions signifies our limitations and our need for Jesus’ forgiveness. We begin to see that it is only God’s action that can move us to acts of true selflessness, participating in the reign of Christ. The recognition of this power reflects the realization of the man crucified near Jesus who asks to be remembered and is comforted. 

Elevation 

The lofty language of kingdom and reign naturally lends itself to the ideas of elevation and being “lifted up.” Indeed, the image of Christ as King is intended to emphasize the sovereignty of Christ over all creation, including earthly leaders who pretend to wield ultimate authority. Such power in the hands of humans often leads to corruption and injustice. But power placed with Jesus produces a reign of mercy and justice. Watching Jesus transforms our understanding of power and authority. Jesus, lifted up on the cross, reveals that true power lies in self-giving love. 

No longer beholden to what the world lifts up, those who witness Christ’s elevation in the preached Word of God are freed from the hierarchies and pressures of this world, transforming their understanding of power and authority. Participation in the Reign of Christ means freedom to speak on behalf of the marginalized, call out injustice, and advocate for those left behind by those in power. It is the end of the liturgical year. What else might God’s kingdom bring to an end to make room for something new? 

“Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock …, I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply” (Jeremiah 23:3).

These words of comfort, tenderness, and hope ring out amid the woe oracle directed against the shepherds (leaders) of the people, who have scattered and destroyed the flock. They have not attended to the flock as they ought, and the Lord will intervene. 

There is no place for corrupt leadership, oppression, and dishonest gain in the kingdom of God. Those who pursue their own interests, those who turn a blind eye to the plight of the weak, those who seek dishonest gain or profit through unethical means, were all called out in Jeremiah 22, the chapter preceding our lectionary text. God’s ethical demands are a concern throughout the prophetic corpus. The prophets make clear that justice and righteousness must be practiced within God’s community at all levels of society. 

In Jeremiah 23, the Lord places the responsibility of social disintegration and the fall of the nation on its leaders. Since they have failed, the Lord will do the work of a shepherd among God’s people. God becomes the subject of various verbs, such as “gather,” “bring back,” and “raise up.” The people have always belonged to God, but here, God claims specific ownership over them with regard to the work of rescue and redemption that God will also undertake. They are described as “my people” and “my flock” in relation to God.

The word “remnant” is also used to apply to the people of God. “Remnant” in the prophetic tradition speaks both of suffering and of hope. A remnant, being a portion of a greater part, hints at the suffering the people had gone through and the loss of population the nation had suffered. Only a remnant survived the Babylonian exile. 

On the other hand, their survival is a sign of God’s faithfulness. God preserves a remnant in the face of Babylonian destruction and promises that this remnant will return to the land and multiply. In Isaiah 37:31, it is promised that the remnant will take root downward and bear fruit upward. Having weathered a season of suffering, the remnant will be brought home and will once again grow and be fruitful. Despite human failure, there is a promise of restoration. 

The proclamation that the remnant will be “fruitful and multiply” in verse 3 hints at the Edenic conditions to which the Lord will restore the people. There they shall no longer fear, nor be dismayed, and none shall be missing (verse 4). The Lord pays attention to every single person of the flock.

Having suffered at the hands of human leadership, both in Judah and at the hands of the Babylonians, it is comforting, healing, and empowering to know that God would take on the task of gathering and bringing God’s people home. Though shepherds in the past have failed, God will again oversee and raise good shepherds for the people (verse 4). 

The prophetic voice moves on to speak of a further future in verse 5. In that day and in that land, the Lord will raise up for David a righteous branch. Since this text is assigned to Christ the King Sunday, it is natural to connect the righteous Branch of David with the person of Christ when we read verses 5–6. In Jeremiah’s time, however, the expectation and hope were for the reinstatement of the Davidic throne. It was hoped that a king who would rule wisely, justly, and righteously would come from the Davidic lineage. 

Historically, the restoration of the Davidic monarchy did not come to pass. Zerubbabel, a descendant of David (a grandson of King Jehoiachin), returned to Judah during the reign of Cyrus of Persia and was made the provincial governor of Judah. The temple was rebuilt under Zerubbabel’s leadership (the foundations were laid in 535 BCE, and work was completed in 515 BCE). Though the Judeans enjoyed some degree of autonomy during the restoration period, the land and the people remained part of the Persian Empire. 

In time, the righteous Branch of David was interpreted to refer to the ideal and perfect reign of the coming Messiah. 

For similar communities suffering at the hands of ill leadership today, this text gives us hope that the righteous Branch of David will spring up and bring about the just and righteous kingdom of God in a time to come. 

Try as they might, human leaders rarely meet the prophetic expectations of justice and righteousness. Poor and unjust leadership continues to cause upheaval and various degrees of social disintegration in our world today. Thus, we wait in hope for the rule of the righteous Branch who will stand in stark contrast to the leadership of Jeremiah’s time. When that day comes, justice and righteousness will be executed in the land, and we will live in a rightly ordered world where we can flourish, be safe, and be fruitful.

While we wait, we would do well to emulate the leadership of the righteous Branch. Justice and righteousness are not a choice, but a part of our character and identity. While we wait for the ideal King, we are agents and participants in God’s kingdom. Despite our imperfections, we are called to attend to issues in our communities that are within our spheres of influence, that require the kind of justice and righteousness the Lord demands of us who are God’s people.

One should also be mindful of communities that are currently powerless in the face of egregious injustices, oppression, or violence. Righteous people can do all that is humanly possible, but at times, oppressors appear to have the upper hand. The Lord’s intervention may not be apparent now, but the Lord will attend to evil doings (verse 2). We can hold on to the image of God as shepherd and trust that the Lord, who is faithful and compassionate, attends also to those who have suffered losses (the remnant). Our hope for the sure and certain reign of the righteous Branch of David must continue to be a source of strength and perseverance that propels us forward.

The days are surely coming when the righteous Branch of David shall reign as king. The promises of our God are sure and certain.

Luke 1:68–79 marks the Benedictus—also known as the song of Zechariah.¹

It is one of three canticles—the other two being Mary’s Magnificat and the Song of Simeon—in the first two chapters of Luke. This song pronounces praise for the birth of John the Baptist. John’s birth marks a reversal of fate for Zechariah and Elizabeth after their period of lack, and it announces the beginning of a reversal of fate for humanity, who stands in a period of spiritual lack and in need of God’s deliverance.

The Benedictus receives its name because of its beginning with “Blessed be…” (helogetos).

The liturgical format is reminiscent of the barakah formula in the Hebrew Bible, which begins with an initial statement of praise (Luke 1:68a), followed by the reason for said praise (1:68b–74), and concluding with a formula for praise (1:75–79). Francois Bovon observes that the passive verb “blessed” leaves the subject of the blessing in “theological suspense.”² Consequently, both the works of God and the audience of God’s work can express praise.

Here, the works of God are not only God’s blessing of Israel and their deliverance from enemies but also the maintenance of the covenant and the birth of John. In this way the author signifies human capacity to be God’s praise in our ability to live in communion with God.

Similarly, but with some nuance, we as human beings have the ability to bear witness to God’s work in history. We see God’s ability to step, to be attentive, to deliver, and to redeem; and as a result of what we see, we are able to offer praise. In this Lukan text, such praise unfolds in three parts: through God’s visit, God’s deliverance, and God’s might.

In verse 68, the verb (episkeptomai) often translated “looked favorably upon” may also be translated as “visited.” This verb appears in the Septuagint (LXX) in Genesis 21:1, when God shows up for Sarah and interrupts her prolonged season of barrenness.

It is the same verb in Ruth 1:6 when God ends the famine in Bethlehem. God’s visit is something more than simple presence; it is about more than merely seeing. When God visits God’s people, God makes God’s self manifest in their lives. God shows up to interrupt misery and lack with the intention to restore and sustain the people.

And so, the author reminds us that God visited Israel and “redeemed them” (Luke 1:68b). This redemption takes the form of raising up a “horn of salvation” (commonly translated as “mighty savior”). The horn in ancient Israel signifies a show of strength. Most often this strength was demonstrated in military might.

For example, in Deuteronomy 33:17, the author says of Joseph, “His horns are the horns of a wild ox; with them he gores people.” Here the author signifies God’s chosen as having a superhuman strength that pushes back their opponents. Joseph’s victory is assured because God has endowed him with these horns of strength.

In a more militaristic context, in Joshua 6:20 the priests’ blowing of the horn is a sign for the people that there is an impending sign of God’s might. Following this sound, the walls of Jericho fall. The horns are the signal of Israel’s strength as they prepare to invade this territory. There is no counter-response significant enough to subdue them.

In Luke 1, the horn is placed in the “house of [God’s] servant David.” Such an allusion points the reader to 1 Samuel 2; in Hannah’s prayer, she speaks of God’s ability to reverse fortunes and bring about unexpected outcomes for those who live for God. This prayer culminates at 1 Samuel 2:10 with God’s horn (LXX) resounding, which is a sign of the king’s strength on earth.

In Luke 1, the horn becomes a signification of a different manifestation of God’s strength. Here God’s might is a signal of redemption and salvation.

All of this theological reflection in Luke 1:68–79 happens outside of time. Prior to this text and following it, there is a narrative chronology. However, in this moment the author breaks time to speak to God’s amazing capacity to operate across and within chronological time.

This brief text takes the reader through the exodus, into the monarchy, across the prophetic tradition of ancient Israel, and into the hope for a new promise fulfilled first through John the Baptist and then through Jesus. As such, the text reminds us that we live in a cycle of both the declaration and fulfillment of God’s promises in prophetic utterances.

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for November 24, 2019.
2. Francois Bovon, Luke 1: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 1:1–9:50, Hermeneia, ed. Helmut Koester (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), 72.

[Note: This will address 1:1-20.]

Colossians is a beautiful tribute to the cosmic, triumphant Christ. It is both transcendentally inspirational and eminently practical. Unfortunately, scholars often treat Colossians as “deutero-Pauline” (or pseudonymous), and thus it gets neglected in Pauline studies. But many preachers will know that it is a magisterial letter with so much to offer in terms of worship, doctrine, and a life lived in faith, hope, and love.

A prison letter

If there is one thing most Christians will know about this text, it is that Paul was in prison (4:18: “remember my chains”). This was not an uncommon experience for Paul (2 Corinthians 6:5). He was not ashamed of it, because he knew he would face hardships as a devoted servant of Christ. But he also knew he was not alone (Colossians 4:10), and his spirit was buoyed by the affection and prayers of many (4:2-3; see also Philippians 1:19).

St. John Chrysostom argued that the prison letters were the most precious of Paul’s writings, because the weight of his chains clarified his faith and convictions and what was worth suffering for, worth dying for; Chrysostom wrote: “Oh! Those blessed bonds! Oh! Those blessed hands which that chain adorned!”¹ Colossians is all the more valuable because Paul went to great pains to encourage a church facing significant challenges.

False teaching (also known as The “Colossian Heresy”)

Speaking of challenges, we learn from the letter itself that one of the reasons Paul wrote to the Colossians was to repudiate a false teaching, sometimes called the “Colossian Heresy” (see Colossians 2:4, 8–9).  While scholars disagree about the exact nature and origins of this false teaching, I have come to describe it as a “transcendent-ascetic philosophy.” These other teachers were trying to convince the Colossian Christians that true heavenly wisdom and spiritual perfection can only be reached by elevating oneself above the body and material realm and, in fact, that only by subjugating the weak body can we be truly free from the hegemony of troublesome spirits and powers.

Paul’s letter was responding to this by redirecting their interest in wisdom and knowledge toward Christ, who is the “fullness” of God, and by asserting that our fulfillment is found in Christ.

Combating heresies with thanksgiving

Ancient theological heresies often operate like modern-day conspiracy theories: They utilize fear to move people to act. Apparently, the Colossian Heresy amplified fears about harmful spiritual powers and entities in order to inspire the Colossian believers to adopt this transcendent-ascetic philosophy. Paul begins to counter this from the start of his letter by dwelling on what is good and true right here and now: We can give thanks to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ because of a secure hope that is reserved for us in the end (1:3), for the grace of God received in the gospel (1:4–6), and for a community of love and care in the church (1:7).

Paul spends ample time, in this passage and throughout the letter, underscoring the future inheritance awaiting Jesus’ people (1:9, 12). Keep in mind, for ancient people, being an heir was not primarily about receiving money; it was about the honor and security that is experienced by being part of a family. Believers can thank the Father because the Son has redeemed us from darkness and relocated us safely and permanently into his royal family (1:13–14). Paul’s tone throughout is victorious jubilation—worry less, celebrate more!

The Cosmic Christ Hymn

Colossians 1:15–20 is one of the most beautifully articulated tributes to Christ in the New Testament. Some scholars think it is pre-Pauline liturgy; some (like me) think Paul probably wrote it himself. Some think it is a hymn or poem; some don’t. What is most obvious is that Christ is honored as God’s most glorious agent and the one most deserving of our worship. It was determined by God that “he might come to have first place in everything” (1:18c).

The part I want to draw the most attention to is the ending (1:20). If the Colossians were convinced by the false teaching that they needed to “transcend” this body and this earth and experience spiritual heights, they would undoubtedly be interested in a cosmic, glorified Christ. But Paul connects the supremacy of Christ with Christ’s gritty work on earth by mentioning how reconciliation was achieved by “making peace through the blood of his cross” (1:20). Blood and cross. These things are not “otherworldly” at all; these are symbols of death and degradation. Paul was reminding the Colossians that while we may sometimes think greatness lies in achieving “higher heights,” Christ proved his true greatness in the depths of his descent to humbly save sinful humanity, to die in loving service for us.

Tips for preaching on Colossians 1:1–20

#1: Don’t be afraid to get “spiritual.” Sometimes preachers try to “demythologize” the Bible to make it more palatable or interesting to “modern-day man.” But I think most people today are open to and interested in “spiritual things.” Colossians has so much to say about how we think about spiritual powers and what goes on in the invisible realm all around us. Lean in, don’t shy away. Christians believe in a triune God, angels and demons, principalities and powers, good and evil forces. There are healthy and unhealthy ways to talk about these things, but it does no one any good to ignore these topics.

#2: Emphasize the things we know for certain: faith and love in Christ. There is so much that we (preachers) don’t fully understand about angels and demons, heaven and hell, things long past and things to come. Don’t spend 90 percent of your sermon time on speculation. Focus on what we know for sure: We are called to grow in faith in Christ and in love for each other (1:3–6).

#3: Point to Jesus Christ. I know that sounds obvious, and even cliché, but that is what the Cosmic Christ Hymn (1:15–20) is all about—recognition of Jesus as God’s supreme agent of creation, sustainer of life, head of the church, trailblazer of the resurrection life, bursting with the fullness of God, and the one who shed his blood on a Roman cross to make peace with those who made themselves enemies of God.

#4: Talk about the physical body. There will always be a temptation to reject the physical body and escape to another world—we often do this today through our phones and other devices. The Colossians may have wanted to live in the clouds; are we any wiser trying to live in “the (digital) cloud”? The Cosmic Christ Hymn underscores the importance of Christ’s incarnation, his moving down toward us and living in a body. Henri Nouwen offers a helpful reminder of why we need a healthy theology of the body.

The greatest mystery of the Christian faith is that God came to us in the body, suffered with us in the body, rose in the body, and gave us his body as food. No religion takes the body as seriously as the Christian religion. The body is not seen as the enemy or as a prison of the Spirit, but celebrated as the Spirit’s temple. Through Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection, the human body has become part of the life of God.

It is in union with the body of Christ that I come to know the full significance of my own body. … It is a home where God wants to manifest the fullness of the divine glory. … I wonder how I can bring this good news to the many people for whom their body is little more than an unlimited source of pleasure or an unceasing source of pain. The feast of the Body of Christ is given to us to fully recognize the mystery of the body and to help us find ways to live reverently and joyfully in the body in expectation of the risen life with God.²

In a world today of so many distractions, so many “self-help” philosophies and “life hack” fixes, a sermon on Colossians 1:1–20 offers the clarifying opportunity to give the people of God just one thing to focus their attention on: Christ, the incarnate and beloved Son, who gave his blood on a cross to generously offer to us joy-filled resurrection life, in the most complete way in the Eschaton, but in a very real way as well here and now.

Recommended resources

Gupta, Nijay K. Colossians. Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Macon, GA: Helwys, 2013.

Notes

1. “Homily 8 on Ephesians,” New Advent, accessed October 10, 2025, https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/230108.htm#:~:text=Oh!%20Those%20blessed%20bonds!%20Oh!%20Those%20blessed%20hands%20which%20that%20chain%2modern-day0adorned!.
2. In The Essential Henri Nouwen, ed. R. A. Jonas (Random House, 2009), 21–22.