On June 14, 2025, my social media feeds were filled with protesters across the United States rallying under the banner “No Kings.” The multi-location protest was a response to President Donald Trump’s military parade, held that same day. For demonstrators, this parade symbolized the authoritarian aims of the Trump administration. Protestors identified Trump as a king who rules over his people — not a president whose power comes from the people. “No Kings” proclaimed a democracy made visible in the millions of people enacting politics in the streets.
Is “king” the right term for Christ?
Oddly, outside of these protests, progressive Christians rarely use “king” as a descriptor for Jesus (or God, for that matter). This is partially due to how the word reinforces male-centered language for the divine. It is becoming more common to celebrate the “Reign of Christ” on the Sunday in the liturgical calendar once known as “Christ the King” Sunday.
Additionally, instead of the word kingdom, I more frequently hear pastors and congregations use “kin-dom” — a term coined by Latina feminist theologian Ada María Isasi-Díaz. Beyond the gendering of king, terms like reign or kingdom describe God’s world with the assumption of an undemocratic hierarchy, ruled over by a single figure with divinely authoritarian power. Kin-dom, by contrast, conjures an egalitarian world, where people come together as part of God’s family. By coining this term, Isasi-Díaz effectively proclaimed “No Kings.” If progressive Christians are already uncomfortable with king language, why drag it out to protest another example of kingship that provokes their discomfort?
If progressive Christians are already uncomfortable with king language, why drag it out to protest another example of kingship that provokes their discomfort?
Jesus functioned in community
Although progressive Christians usually abandon such king language, the idea of Jesus as a singular hero and savior pervades progressive Christianity. Rooted in interpretations of gospel stories, Jesus uniquely stands against the Roman empire. These interpretations take inspiration from academic biblical scholars who write about “Jesus and Empire,” such as Richard A. Horsley or John Dominic Crossan.
This line of thinking sees Jesus as presenting a “radical” message to poor and oppressed populations. He is a voice for the voiceless, protesting an authoritarian emperor, hell-bent on spreading Roman might across the globe, increasing elite wealth, denigrating foreigners, and celebrating his power through triumphal military processions. (Does this sound familiar?) This presentation of Jesus the “radical rebel” stems from the important recognition that the authoritarianism we see today is nothing new. People have long been in the streets proclaiming, “No Kings.”
People — not just one person. Jesus, as presented in New Testament texts, does appear to contest imperialism. But he was never alone and never the sole voice or leader. Democracy requires people, plural, who lead collectively, not singularly. Biblical scholars and progressive Christians who focus on Jesus and Empire envision Jesus alone as the unique advocate for democratic values in an otherwise authoritarian imperial landscape. This presentation is ahistorical: we have evidence that other Jewish rebels contested authoritarian norms, in addition to the dissent we find in other Roman colonies and among enslaved people.
Jesus, as presented in New Testament texts, does appear to contest imperialism. But he was never alone and never the sole voice or leader.
For example, interpreters frequently cite the gospel story when Jesus turns over tables at the Temple (Mark 11:15–19) as the epitome of anti-imperial protest (“my king flipped tables”). Biblical scholar Katherine A. Shaner has shown how these interpretations ignore how this “political” action erases the mostly enslaved laborers who would have worked those tables. In both the interpretation and the story depicted by the gospel writer, Jesus acts alone: he does not give these laborers a chance to enact their own liberation. “Liberation is never effective if singularly credited and enforced; empire is,” Shaner writes in her 2021 article “The Danger of Singular Saviors.” Jesus the singular hero leaves no room for democratic collaboration. The heroic “radical rebel” Jesus remains a king.
“Jesus is my king” doesn’t go far enough
Some may object to my critique, countering that Jesus the radical rebel is an important antidote to Christian nationalism, which claims a Jesus who thoroughly embraces imperial authoritarianism. In the context of a “No Kings” protest, “Jesus is my king” calls out the hypocrisy of right-wing Christians who willingly embrace Trump as a king figure, despite their professed devotion to Christ, alone, as king. It is true that proclaiming Jesus, alone, as king counters the dangers of Trump’s authoritarian rhetoric and actions. However, Christian nationalism is rooted in the insistence of hierarchy, of Jesus as king. By proclaiming Jesus as their king, these progressive Christians legitimize the underlying authoritarian aspirations of Christian nationalism. We can call out hypocrisy without claiming Jesus as king. As long as Jesus is king, this Jesus still gestures to an undemocratic world.
By proclaiming Jesus as their king, these progressive Christians legitimize the underlying authoritarian aspirations of Christian nationalism.
Finding God by decentering Jesus
There is a more democratic alternative to Jesus as a heroic king and savior. Feminist and womanist theologians have been saying “No Kings” to Jesus for at least half a century. Biblical scholars like Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza and Mitzi J. Smith advocate for a decentering approach to Jesus and other heroic male figures. Decentering moves Jesus from the middle of the circle into its circumference. He joins hands with all the other protestors to be equidistant from the movement’s center. Instead of proclaiming Jesus a singular hero and king, decentering notices the many. Jesus becomes part of a movement with many leaders: “one among many.” This alternative feminist vision of the gospels offers progressive Christians an alternative political interpretation that matches the ethos of the “No Kings” movement. When Jesus becomes one among many dissenters to kingship, progressive Christianity embraces democracy instead of the authoritarian potential of any singular savior. Maybe instead of “Jesus is my king,” progressive Christians could try “Mary + Phoebe + Jesus + Martha = No King!”
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