
By Johnny Zokovitch
How fitting in these days of “No Kings” protests that this Sunday we celebrate a feast that, despite the name, provides us the analysis that both underpins the slogan and indicts the current administration as being utterly irreconcilable with the example of Jesus.
On the Solemnity of Christ the King, the first reading from 2 Samuel and the gospel reading from Luke offer a strange juxtaposition. One of the biggest misunderstandings of the early disciples was their expectation that Jesus would be the new David, a warrior-king to deliver liberation from the Romans for his people Israel. Over and over again we find the disciples’ wrestling with the apparent incongruity of Jesus’ embodiment of Messiah with the traditional understanding that posed David as template.

The contrast is made strikingly clear in today’s readings: In his moment of victory, the tribes of Israel flow to David to pay him homage and anoint him king after he has slain his enemies and consolidated power by military might. In Jesus’ seeming moment of defeat — crucified as a common criminal — the rulers of Israel “sneer” at him as he is humiliated and tortured and the Roman soldiers mockingly call him “the king of the Jews” (oddly enough placing two supposed enemies — the leaders of Israel and the might of Rome — on the same side). One of the criminals sharing his fate puts an even sharper point on it, using the very term that evokes the specter of David — calling Jesus “the Christ,” i.e. “the anointed one.”
One of the consistent themes of the gospels is how Jesus frustrates the expectations of the disciples, the very people who have placed their faith in him and linked their future to his. The disciples long for a Messiah who comes in power to set things right, meting out justice by any means necessary, striking down their oppressors, instituting a new regime, and, in the process, elevating their own status. They are like the Israelites before them begging Samuel to give them a king — despite warnings that a king means losing their sons to war, that their daughters would serve his whims, that they all would sacrifice the work of their hands in taxes for the king’s benefit, and they would, in fact, become slaves. Indeed, maybe it is this predilection to long for a savior who is fundamentally bad for us that will lead the crucified Jesus to assert, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
The chasm between King David and Jesus Christ the King is so vast that it thoroughly guts the word “king” of every understanding that traditionally adheres to it; to even use the word “king” for Jesus seems absurd. Jesus, rather, is indeed “no king” – at least not in any way that we have witnessed throughout history.
This is a valuable revelation in our current reality where the desire for a king — an autocratic, power-hungry strong man — is so prevalent among those in our nation who identify as Christian. The political implications of Jesus challenge such a notion for any who would truly be his disciples — whether 2,000 years ago or today. Jesus’ example is nothing akin to the warning Samuel issues to the Israelites about what it is they can expect from their longing for a king.
Unlike our current president’s aspirations to rule as if he is a king, Jesus in Luke’s gospel today sacrifices himself for his people and identifies not with those in power (i.e. rulers, soldiers) but with those on the margins or underside of society (criminals). He remains loyal to the God of peace and compassion, even when threatened with violence and humiliation, instead of striking out at his enemies from vengeance and pettiness. And he confronts unjust power with strategies and tactics rooted in nonviolence that respects the dignity of every human being.
Like the Judean leaders in John’s gospel responding to Pilate, “We have no king but Caesar,” many (most?) US Christians seem eager to proclaim, “We have no king but Trump.” But for those of us with eyes to see and ears to hear, we reply, “We have no king (period). We have Jesus.”
Johnny Zokovitch is the former executive director of Pax Christi USA. He currently serves on the board of the Pax Christi International Fund for Peace and is in pastoral leadership at St. Cronan Catholic Church in St. Louis.

Thank you Johnny. 🙏🙏👍🏻
Thanks Jesse!
Johnny, I am so very happy and grateful that you have ‘taken up the mantle’ of your extraordinary friend and spiritual mentor, Fr. Joe. I appreciate your experience, your depth of understanding and your wisdom. Your voice is needed in these times. Continued blessings, my friend!
Thanks so much Mary Ellen. Grateful for your encouragement!
Wonderful reflection John. I am, by admission, a horrible “Cafeteria Catholic.” As I picked hymns to enhance this past Sunday’s readings, I realized that Christ the King Sunday is a time of tongue biting for me. I have relatives who faithfully serve a large (wealthy) parish named Christ the King — a wonderful church, yet I always wince just a little at the huge golden crown that is suspended above their ample marble altar. When I use the CC term in the first sentence above, it’s because I am a bit chagrined by the vestments, the mitres, the staffs, the incense … the pageantry that so often marks our liturgy. I would be so comfortable if the celebrant was attired in a Franciscan Habit and the blood of Christ was offered in a simple wooden goblet rather than a golden chalice.
Don’t get me wrong. I love our Church, but wish we were a bit more influenced by the early church of the first century (the Way) rather than something modeled after ancient monarchies.
I like to think I follow the Jesus of Matthew 4:10. I tend to think He wants us to walk beside him rather than lay prostrate on the ground before him. Your column expresses this idea beautifully.