WITH the celebration of the Solemnity of Christ the King, we are reminded to really develop and enliven our belief that Christ is the real and ultimate king for all of us. He is king not only to Catholics but to all of us and the entire universe. As such, we too share in Christ’s kingly office.
And his kingship is not only something social, political, economic, cultural, etc. His kingship extends to the spiritual, moral and supernatural dimensions of our life. He rules all aspects of our life—from our most internal thoughts and desires, to our most global and cosmic concerns. There is nothing in our life where Christ is not expected to reign. We are actually nothing without him.
It is only when we acknowledge and live this truth of our faith that we too can consider ourselves as king too in him. Thus, we share in his mission of human redemption, by uprooting sin and sanctifying all aspects of our life. We are supposed to actively participate, in accordance to one’s state in life, in the mission of Christ which is now the mission of the Church, and the mission of each one of us.
We need to do our part to make Christ our King. We can do this by making little conquests in our spiritual life everyday. We need to understand that our life will always involve some struggle. In fact, it is and should be a daily affair. Failing in that struggle does not only mean getting stuck at a certain point. It certainly means we have retrogressed. In this business of struggle, if we don’t advance, we actually retreat.
We should therefore be reminded of our duty to hone up our skills in spiritual warfare. Christ already hinted this much when he said: “from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent bear it away.” (Mt 11,12)
We have to understand though that to be violent in this sense does not mean to be destructive but rather to be constructive, driven by love and the desire to be united with God and with the others in a way proper to us as children of God and brothers and sisters among ourselves.
Our life here on earth cannot but be in some form of struggle. Aside from our innate urge to grow and develop that requires some effort, we also have to contend with enemies whose sole intent is precisely to bring us down, to divert us from our proper path toward holiness. This is not to mention that our ultimate goal is to reach heaven, which definitely will require effort and struggle, and of course God’s grace.
We need to make little conquests everyday in every front of this spiritual warfare. It can be in the battle for faith, hope and charity. It can be in the way we pray and in the offering of sacrifices.
Any progress or victory in any battle or skirmish, no matter how small, counts. As long as we struggle constantly, our spiritual life will always advance. If we persevere in our spiritual warfare, our fidelity to any commitment is assured, for God on his part will always give us what we need. Things would just depend on us.
Any progress in the virtues will always go a long way in our spiritual life. We need to remind ourselves strongly that everything that we do should always be for God’s glory and not for our own glorification.
This is how we make Christ our real King!
A long celebration
At the first blush of September, when radio stations across the country start playing “Ang Pasko ay Sumapit,” we always feel that familiar mix of delight and unease. Yes, the long Christmas season is part of who Filipinos are, but it raises a question that never quite goes away: have we stretched the celebration too far for our own good?
I say this as someone who grew up with parols blinking above sari-sari stores long before Halloween arrived. Filipinos welcome Christmas the way the rest of the world welcomes the changing of seasons—automatically, almost instinctively. Once the “ber” months roll in, the air shifts, and households start rummaging through old boxes of lights and ornaments. I feel the charm of it, that warm tug that Christmas brings, but I also cannot ignore how early this cycle begins and how easily we let it swallow four months of our year.
We wonder if this prolonged cheer is rooted in our yearning for relief. Life here has never been light, and Christmas has always been our easiest refuge—a sanctuary built of lights, songs, and rituals that don’t ask much from the soul except participation. I’ve seen how a simple jingle can lift a tired jeepney driver’s mood or how a lantern outside a home can soften the impact of rising prices. Our long celebration, then, feels like a cultural defense mechanism, stretching joy to counterbalance what burdens us.
Yet this extended season comes with its own weight. By October, malls start rolling out sales and themed events, and you can’t escape the commercial pull even if you try. I have nothing against gift-giving, but the pressure to buy something—anything—for everyone seems to grow louder each year. It turns what should be thoughtful generosity into a frantic spending spree. I often find myself wishing the celebration were shorter because the weeks-long cues seem to prod us into consumption more than reflection.
Christmas parties add another layer to this marathon. Schools, offices, barangays, and even small social groups hold their own gatherings, each with its own exchange gift mechanics and potluck requirements. There is laughter, the reunions, the unguarded moments when people loosen up—but by mid-December, the line between celebration and obligation blurs. People catch themselves moving from one event to another with barely enough energy to enjoy any of them. The season becomes a calendar race, not a quiet savoring of togetherness.
Then comes the food—the glorious, overflowing dishes that define Filipino Christmas tables. I love the bibingka stalls by the sidewalks and the smell of ham sautéing in a neighbor’s kitchen. But I’ve also seen how families strain their budgets to recreate the idealized Noche Buena spread. There’s a silent pressure to match what commercials portray, and people often sacrifice what little they have to meet expectations no one actually demanded. The joy is absolute, but so is the exhaustion that comes with trying too hard.
Still, I cannot deny that this long celebration binds us. It gives towns color, keeps traditions alive, and somehow brings out a friendliness in people that is harder to find the rest of the year. When I walk through streets lit by parols crafted by local hands, hear children practicing carols, or watch a family decorate a modest tree together, I’m reminded why the season feels sacred. Amid all the excesses, a core of sincerity remains—warm, familiar, and unmistakably Filipino.
And maybe that is where the balance must lie. Filipinos can keep this extended Christmas, but we need to reclaim it—strip away the noise, temper the spending, return to the parts of the season that nurture rather than drain, and focus on the real celebrant—the Lord Jesus Christ, whose birth has gifted mankind with a savior and eternal life. A celebration that lasts a third of the year doesn’t have to consume us; it can shape us, gently, into a people who celebrate not because we’re pushed, but because we choose to value what truly matters.