Archbishop Nelson J. Pérez delivered a message of hope to 16,000 youths at the National Catholic Youth Conference's closing Mass in Indianapolis. The Archbishop emphasized that Jesus is the 'king of our hearts' and a source of guidance, light, and sustenance. He highlighted that Jesus' kingship differs from worldly rulers, with his throne being a cross and his crown made of thorns. Archbishop Pérez stated that the church views Christ's crucifixion as a victory due to his resurrection.
21 days ago
The National Catholic Youth Conference (NCYC) gathered 16,000 Catholic teenagers from across the U.S. at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis from November 20-22, 2025.
The event featured worship, speakers, and a unique digital interaction with Pope Leo XIV, emphasizing faith, hope, and personal encounters with Christ.1
Philadelphia Archbishop Nelson J. Pérez preached at the closing Mass on November 22, 2025, on the feast of Christ the King.
He described Jesus as the "king of our hearts," a shepherd in lost moments, light in darkness, and bread for the soul.1
Archbishop Pérez contrasted worldly kings with Christ's throne of the cross, crown of thorns, and nailed hands, proclaiming his death and resurrection as a victory of goodness.
He urged youths to embrace this victory in their Christian journey, repeating "Viva Cristo Rey!" with the crowd responding "Que viva!"1
Drawing from Pope Leo XIV's video message, the archbishop encouraged daily silence through adoration, Scripture, or prayer to build a relationship with Jesus and entrust struggles to him for greater joy and freedom.
He ended with a prayer thanking God for the pope's virtual presence and Christ's kingship.1
On November 21, 2025, the conference held a central Eucharistic adoration session in the stadium, focused on inner healing.
Emcee Gian Gamboa introduced it as essential for giving from a place of wholeness.1
Sister Miriam James Heidland of the Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity spoke on healing as an encounter with God's love and truth that restores dignity and exposes lies hidden by secrets.
She emphasized this happens where God dwells within, allowing the Lord to speak directly.1
Archbishop Timothy P. Broglio read from John 6:35-58, stressing the need to partake in the bread of eternal life for union with God, challenging participants to grow in faith despite disbelief.1
Indianapolis senior Nolan McCracken shared a testimony on November 20, 2025, framing his spiritual growth through Newton's three laws of motion.
He described his early high school years as spiritually "at rest," focused on grades over faith.1
Switching schools accelerated his disconnection from God, but attending Mass with family and a junior retreat opened him to God's "external force," leading to reliance on divine love.
McCracken invited peers feeling stuck to accept Jesus, assuring they are held in his care.1
Attendee Karyna Lopez from the Diocese of Jefferson City, Missouri, called her second NCYC experience transformative, feeling the Holy Spirit's strength and inspiration.
She highlighted the joy of Pope Leo XIV's wisdom during the digital encounter.1
Throughout the closing Mass, youths showed fervent faith, kneeling in prayer and raising hands during Communion amid praise music.
Over 20 bishops and 250 priests concelebrated, applauding the participants' energy.1
As the liturgy ended, the house band played worship songs, filling the stadium with joy as teens prepared to return home inspired.
The event reinforced themes of Christ's kingship, healing, and communal witness to love.1
Christ’s kingship: a spiritual, not worldly, authority
Good morning, my friends! As we gather here on this glorious Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, the end of our liturgical year invites us to lift our eyes to the true sovereign of all creation. Today’s theme—Christ’s kingship: a spiritual, not worldly, authority—challenges us to rethink what power really means. In a world obsessed with thrones of influence, wealth, and control, Jesus reveals a kingship that triumphs through humility, truth, and love. It's a kingship that doesn't conquer by force but transforms hearts, echoing the words He spoke to Pilate: "My kingship is not of this world." Let's explore this profound mystery together, drawing from the heart of our faith.
Imagine the scene: Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, stands before Jesus, bound and accused. "Are you the King of the Jews?" he asks, his voice laced with skepticism and power. Jesus doesn't deny it; instead, He turns the question back, revealing the depth of His mission. "For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice." Here, in the shadow of the cross, we see the paradox of Christ's reign. He's not the king the world expects—no armies at His command, no palaces or crowns of gold. His throne is the wood of the cross, His crown a wreath of thorns, His scepter a reed of mockery.
The readings today bring this into sharp focus. The prophet Daniel visions a Son of Man given "dominion and glory and kingdom," an everlasting rule that no force can destroy. Saint Paul echoes this in his letter to the Colossians, describing how God has "delivered us from the dominion of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." And in the Gospel, Jesus clarifies to Pilate that His authority isn't forged in the fires of earthly conquest. It's spiritual, born from obedience to the Father's will, manifested not in political domination or economic empires, but in the quiet power of sacrifice.
This kingship fulfills the ancient prophecies, as Daniel foretold a reign served by "peoples, nations, and languages"—a universal call that transcends borders and cultures. Yet, it's not imposed; it's invited. Christ, the firstborn from the dead, restores our original dignity as children of God, ruling over a new humanity through His resurrection. The Catechism reminds us that Christ is Lord and King precisely because He is the origin and goal of history, judging with justice while calling us to pray, "Thy kingdom come." In this spiritual authority, there's no coercion—only the gentle pull of truth that draws those who listen.
To grasp this, let's turn to stories that illuminate the difference between worldly power and Christ's way. Think of King David in the Old Testament, anointed yet fleeing from Saul's spears, or Solomon, whose wisdom outshone his throne. But Jesus surpasses them all. Recall the early Church: amid Roman emperors who demanded worship as gods, Christians like Saint Polycarp faced the arena not with swords, but with faith. When the proconsul urged him to deny Christ, Polycarp replied, "Eighty-six years I have served Him, and He never did me any wrong. How can I blaspheme my King who saved me?" Executed for his loyalty, Polycarp embodied the spiritual kingship that conquers death itself.
Closer to our time, consider the life of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, a young man from a wealthy Italian family in the early 20th century. Surrounded by the glamour of high society, he could have chased worldly influence—politics, fortune, acclaim. Instead, he climbed mountains not for glory, but to pray and serve the poor in Turin’s slums, carrying coal to widows and medicine to the sick. When he died young from polio in 1925, thousands of the poor he helped mourned him, revealing the quiet kingdom he built through acts of love. Frassati heard Christ's voice of truth and lived it, showing us that spiritual authority isn't about ruling others but serving them, as Jesus washed feet instead of demanding obeisance.
Or picture a modern analogy: in our digital age, influencers amass followers through viral posts and curated lives, wielding a fleeting power that fades with the next trend. Contrast that with Mother Teresa, who spoke to the world not from stages of fame but from the streets of Calcutta. Her "kingship" was in embracing the dying, whispering God's love to the abandoned. She didn't conquer empires; she healed brokenness, proving that Christ's reign—a kingdom of truth and life, holiness and grace, justice, love, and peace—grows in the soil of humility. These stories weave together the threads of Scripture and tradition, showing how the King's authority invites us into a realm where love overcomes sin, death, and fear.
So, what does this mean for us, here and now? In a world where authority often means control—think of politicians promising security through division, corporations equating success with accumulation, or even social media dictating worth by likes—Christ's kingship calls us to a counter-cultural life. His rule isn't about escaping the world but transforming it from within. As the Catechism teaches, we await the day when all is subject to Him, vigilant in faith while keeping busy with good works that merit from God's own goodness. Our merits aren't self-made; they flow from His grace, manifested in daily choices.
Consider your own life: perhaps you're navigating a workplace where ambition trumps ethics, or a family strained by conflicts over power and possessions. Christ's spiritual authority reminds you that true victory comes not in winning arguments or hoarding resources, but in forgiving as He forgave from the cross. He experienced our deepest miseries—injustice, betrayal, abandonment—yet responded with a love that "forgives all things, hopes all things, sustains all things." In marriage, parenting, or community, this means leading with service, not dominance, honoring the dignity of each person as part of His kingdom. The Church, tasting the first fruits of this reign on earth, urges us to pray "Adveniat regnum tuum"—Thy kingdom come—not as a distant hope, but as a present reality we build through justice and peace.
This isn't abstract theology; it's practical. In our parish, it looks like volunteering at the food pantry, advocating for the unborn, or simply listening to a neighbor in need. Christ's kingship judges our works at the last day, not by worldly standards, but by how we've loved. He doesn't disregard our freedom; He paves the way with humble love, inviting us to join His eternal dominion.
My brothers and sisters, as we approach the end of this liturgical year, let this Solemnity stir your hearts. Don't settle for the fleeting authorities of this world—they promise much but deliver chains. Instead, crown Christ as your King today. Start small: in your morning prayer, echo the Our Father with renewed fervor: "Thy kingdom come." Commit to one act of spiritual authority this week—perhaps forgiving a grudge, serving the overlooked, or speaking truth in love amid falsehoods.
Examine your conscience: Where have you sought worldly power—at home, work, or in your heart? Repent and turn to the Cross, where the true King reigns. Let His voice of truth guide you, for everyone who belongs to the truth hears it. As we prepare for Advent, may this kingship renew your hope, drawing you into the kingdom that will be revealed in fullness when God is all in all.
Today, we've seen Christ's kingship as spiritual authority—not of conquest, but of love; not worldly thrones, but the cross of redemption. From Daniel's vision to Pilate's courtroom, from papal homilies to the Catechism's wisdom, the Church proclaims: He is King, and His reign transforms us. Go forth, then, as citizens of this eternal kingdom, living its values of truth, justice, and peace. May the Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, bless you and keep you always under His gentle, victorious rule. Amen.
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