Father Richard explains the Hebrew scapegoat ritual and how the pattern continues to play out in secular contexts today: 

In Leviticus 16 we see the brilliant ritualization of what we now call scapegoating, and we should indeed feel sorry for the demonized goat. On the Day of Atonement, a priest laid hands on an “escaping” goat, placing all the sins of the Israelites from the previous year onto the animal. Then the goat was taken out into the wilderness and left there. And the people went home rejoicing, just as European Christians did after burning a supposed heretic at the stake or white Americans did after the lynching of Black men. Whenever the “sinner” is excluded, our ego is delighted and feels relieved and safe—for a while at least. Usually, the illusion only deepens and becomes catatonic, conditioned, and repetitive—because of course, scapegoating did not really work to eliminate the evil in the first place. [1]  

As a Christian, I do believe that Jesus’ death was a historical breakthrough. It is no accident that Christians date history around his life. Afterward, we could never see things in the same way. The seeds of the gospel were forever planted into human history, but some followers of other religions seem to have “watered the seeds” more than many Christians. It seems to me the Christian West was so destabilized by the gospel that it had to go into “overdrive” to hide its shadow and cover its fear and its need to hate others. All this despite the teachings of its designated God! The central message of Jesus on love of enemies, forgiveness, and care for those at the bottom was supposed to make scapegoating virtually impossible and unthinkable.  

Many Christians, with utter irony, worshipped Jesus the Scapegoat on Sundays and, on the other six days of the week, made scapegoats of Jews, Muslims, other Christian denominations, heretics, sinners, pagans, the poor, and almost anybody who was not like themselves. One would have thought that Christians who “gazed upon the one they had pierced” (John 19:37) would have gotten the message about how wrong domination, power, and hatred can be. The system has been utterly wrong about their own chosen God figure, yet they continue to trust the system.  

Scapegoating depends upon a rather sophisticated, but easily learned, ability to compartmentalize, to separate, to divide the world into the pure and the impure. Anthropologically, all religion begins with the creation of the “impure.” Very soon an entire moral system emerges, with taboos, punishments, fears, guilts, and even a priesthood to enforce it. It gives us a sense of order, control, and superiority, which is exactly what the ego wants and the small self demands.  

The religious genius of Jesus is that he utterly refuses all debt codes, purity codes, and the searching for sinners. He refuses to divide the world into the pure and the impure, much to the chagrin of almost everybody—then and now. [2] 

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When Jesus was born, angels sang his praises and kings fell on their knees with royal gifts. He was the object of sincerest worship. Near the end of his life, a similar scene unfolded. Men again fell on their knees before Jesus and gave him royal gifts. Their voices praised him and they called him “King.” This time, however, their worship was utterly insincere. The Roman soldiers who celebrated strength and power spit in Jesus’ face and ridiculed this weak, pathetic excuse for a king. He was a buffoon compared to Caesar who lived in a palace, commanded armies, conquered cities, and inspired the worship of millions. Jesus was the antithesis of all that their world valued, so they used him as an oddity for their amusement. They dressed him as a king and pretended to be his subjects, but he was merely a clown in their circus of cruelty.  Like the Roman soldiers, we are eager to worship the powerful, the beautiful, and the triumphant. That is why we prefer to imagine Jesus in the guise of earthly kings or his post-resurrection glory. Popular images of Jesus in our culture depict him as healthy and strong; an attractive man with a chiseled chin and brawny arms. Sometimes he’s even flanked by the symbols of imperial power—flags, eagles, guns, and fighter jets. This mighty American Jesus is also a clown; a mockery of the true Christ. But while the Roman soldiers who adorned him with imperial symbols intended to insult Jesus, ironically many who drape him in the flag today do not. A powerful Jesus who shares our political and cultural enemies is easy to worship, but the gospels challenge us with a different question. Are we willing to worship a weak, humiliated, and broken Jesus? Are we willing to pledge our allegiance to the Jesus covered in spit and blood, wearing a crown of thorns, robed in contempt, and despised by the world? We cannot embrace the Jesus of majesty and reject the Jesus of mockery. They are the same.The Apostle John learned this when he was given a vision of heaven. One of the elders announced with majestic language the arrival of Jesus, “Behold, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, the Root of David, who has conquered.” But when John turned to look at this almighty, triumphant King he saw a Jesus of utter weakness: “I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain.”  DAILY SCRIPTURE MATTHEW 27:27–31  REVELATION 5:5–6 WEEKLY PRAYERKarl Barth (1886–1968) O Lord God, our Father. You are the light that can never be put out; and now you give us a light that shall drive away all darkness. You are love without coldness, and you have given us such warmth in our hearts that we can love all when we meet. You are the life that defies death, and you have opened for us the way that leads to eternal life. None of us is a great Christian; we are all humble and ordinary. But your grace is enough for us. Arouse in us that small degree of joy and thankfulness of which we are capable, to the timid faith which we can muster, to the cautious obedience which we cannot refuse, and thus to the wholeness of life which you have prepared for all of us through the death and resurrection of your Son. Do not allow any of us to remain apathetic or indifferent to the wondrous glory of Easter, but let the light of our risen Lord reach every corner of our dull hearts. Amen.

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