The Insurrectionist & The Scapegoat

Pilate called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, and said to them, “You have brought this Man to me as one who incites the people. And truly, I, having examined Him before you, have found no fault in this Man concerning those things of which you accuse Him. No, neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us. Look, nothing worthy of death has been done by Him. I will therefore chastise Him and release Him.” For he was obligated to release one man to them at the feast.

But they all cried out at once saying, “Take this Man away and release Barabbas to us!” This man had been thrown in prison for an insurrection in the city and for murder. Therefore Pilate spoke to them again, desiring to release Jesus. But they cried out, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” He said to them a third time, “Why, what evil has He done? I have found in Him no cause worthy of death. I will therefore chastise Him and release Him.”

But they insisted with loud voices, asking that He be crucified. And the voices of these men and of the chief priests prevailed. So Pilate gave the sentence as they demanded. He released to them the man who was thrown in prison for insurrection and murder, whom they asked for. But he sentenced Jesus according to their will.

—Luke 23: 13-25

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes during the lectionary reading on Palm Sunday.

Two thousand years later and we are faced with the same bloody choice. You can either have Jesus or the insurrectionist. You cannot serve two masters. The choice is yours: peace, justice, and love, or follow the convicted criminal, con artist, and despot into the abyss.

Why are we still here? Why, as we pause to observe the death of God, are Christians still choosing the insurrectionist and crucifying their Christ? Why are religious conservatives still drawn to a strong leader and in need of a fall guy?

René Girard's scapegoat theory provides a compelling lens through which to not only view the crucifixion, but the ongoing victimization of today’s imperial scapegoats.

Scapegoating is the practice of unreasonably blaming an individual or group for societal problems, often to deflect responsibility from the in-crowd. The term originates from an ancient ritual described in Leviticus 16, where the Jewish people symbolically burdened a goat with their sins and sent it into the wilderness to die. Girard later expanded on this idea with his scapegoat mechanism theory, which explores how societies use scapegoating to resolve internal conflicts and restore order.

It is an archaic, political function seen in every cultural milieu, notably in Trump’s America. Whether it’s today’s Trump or yesterday’s Barabbas, the strongman (insurrectionist) exploits the “other” in order to maintain power, avoid self reflection, and bypass accountability.

Girard posits that human beings have a tendency to imitate each other's desires, leading to rivalry and conflict. When this conflict reaches a tipping point, the community comes together against a patsy, who they blame for the chaos and sacrifice in order to restore peace. This act of scapegoating is both violent and cathartic, providing a temporary release of tension and a false sense of resolution and self-righteousness. By creating a common enemy, scapegoating unites a group and strengthens social bonds. The process, going on now for thousands of years, enables individuals to avoid their own sins by projecting them into others. By blaming and shaming others, the privileged maintain their perceived superiority. Scapegoating deflects, divides, and coalesces power.

“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,” writes Father Richard Rohr. No wonder conservative Christians love Trump. Grievance and scapegoating are Trump’s defining attributes. Trump’s version of scapegoating “displaces blame onto vulnerable groups. Instead of bringing the community together in reflection and renewal, it tears society apart through fear and hatred,” warns Andrew Springer.

Trump’s scapegoats are legion.

Over the last ten years Trump has blamed immigrants, the LGBTQIA community, People of Color, women, higher education, scientists, Episcopal priests, DEI, the U.N., mainstream media, China, and former Presidents Joe Biden and Barak Obama for all of America’s problems. It’s the malignant narcissist’s way of dealing with problems he has no desire or ability to solve. Instead of taking ownership and finding solutions, scapegoating allows Trump and his henchmen to pass the buck, cop out, lie, and move the goalposts. He’s never taken personal responsibility for anything. Everything is always someone else’s fault.

Religious fundamentalists are similar, which is one of the many reasons why they adore Trump. Birds of a feather and all. It’s why the white evangelical church is so fixated on homosexuality. Instead of getting their own house in order, instead of taking a long hard look at their patriarchal systems of oppression and affinity for white supremacy, they redirect their sins onto other people. “These are clever people, moral judgment is their business, it is what they do, but they see sin as something out there. Sin is other - other people, other ways of life,” preaches The Very Reverend Dr. David Hoyle, Dean of Westminster Abbey. These moral charlatans “preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others.” This is spiritual scapegoating 101.

As Christians all over the world pause this week to live into the Paschal Mystery, this idea of scapegoating the least of these is even more poignant.

The parallels between Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion with our current political events in the United States are uncanny. Whether it is Rome or America, the empire follows the same playbook.

Take, for example, ICE’s masked, covert kidnapping of People of Color as they roll up and haul people away in unmarked cars. Evil needs anonymity, it’s just another way of avoiding accountability. Like their modern counterparts, the Jewish soldiers sent to arrest Jesus surprise him at night, intending to disorient their victim while avoiding the outcry of witnesses. Or observe Trump’s blatant attempts to circumvent due process. The Jewish establishment of Jesus’ day set the precedent. Jesus is brought before the highest Jewish court, only to be held in contempt by a corrupt judiciary. Sound familiar?

More directly, Rome’s “imperial gloat” is analogous to Kristi Noem’s photo op at the hellacious El Salvadoran concentration camp. Two thousand years ago, Jesus was flogged, tortured, stripped naked, and hung nude on a cross for all to see. Today, all it takes is a social media post and a well-timed interview by Fox News to get the same message across. Whether it is Jesus hanging naked on a cross or a few hundred Hispanic men stripped down to their boxers, the message is the same. This is imperial theatre, designed to display domination and single out our national scapegoats. In language that would make Pilate proud, Noem gleefully announced, “If you come to our country illegally, this is one of the consequences you could face,” as she posed in front of a crowded cell filled with scapegoats.

But let’s not forget about Barabbas, the original insurrectionist.

The story of Barabbas's release by Pilate appears in all four canonical gospels. Mark tells us Barabbas belonged to a band of rebels “who had committed murder in the insurrection.” He’s obviously a violent revolutionary, someone willing to break the law to gain power. No doubt, he would have been a hero to first century incels. After Jesus is arrested, the Jews demand Barabbas’ release. How eerily similar to Trump’s pardoning of the January 6th terrorists.

In direct opposition to the insurrectionist is the scapegoat, the one who takes on the sins of the world. According to theologian Jennifer Garcia Bashaw:

Jesus willingly becomes a scapegoat to draw attention to the scapegoaters; he submits to death on a cross to draw attention away from the scapegoats.… In his life, Jesus championed women, befriended and healed the poor and the disabled, and welcomed in the outsiders. In his death, Jesus becomes the woman, the infirmed, and the outsider. The Jesus who saved women from society’s shaming was himself publicly shamed, stripped naked, and despised. The Jesus who healed sick and disabled bodies became disabled himself, flesh pierced and torn, weakened and held captive by nails and his failing body.… If Jesus’s life reversed the fate of victims he had met, then his death reverses the fate of future victims. He becomes the scapegoat to end all scapegoats—and exposes the truth that could end human blame and violence once and for all.

Amen.

Growing up evangelical, none of this theology was available to me. My religious leaders taught me to see the cross as a divine transaction between a violent God and his willing patsy. We fucked up and somebody had to pay. God was so mad at us that he needed to kick someone’s ass to make things right. Unfortunately for Jesus, he was the closest-at-hand.

It’s an insane theory when you pause to think about it. For thousands of years, human beings have believed the only way to produce peace is to kick the shit out of somebody. Somebody who can’t fight back. We’ve done a masterful job projecting our rage into God. But in reality, we are the ones who are wrathful, not God! According to Catholic theologian and priest James Alison:

“Yes, there is a group that needs wrath assuaging – it’s us. We are the people who tend to maintain our peace by casting the “someone” out and then very shortly after doing that we have to do it again because our wrath keeps going. What we have in the crucifixion is God saying: ‘Actually, I will come into the midst of your game. I will enter that place of shame, of agony. The place where you cast out other people. The place which the accuser has set up – the accuser being the whisperer behind the lynch. And I will undo his power by showing that actually, it is the innocent one that you have killed.’”

Once we realize every cast-out, rejected, condemned, and shamed scapegoat in Trump’s dictatorial regime isn’t an object of contempt but is rather Christ himself embodied in the least of these, we have the power to forever erase this eternal game of blame. When viewed through the lens of the cross, rather than being objects of derision, the immigrant, the LGBTQIA individual, the Person of Color, the nameless victims in El Salvadoran death camps are the living Christ in our midst. Whatever we do to these scapegoats, we are doing unto God.

This week, as you move deeper into Holy Week, remember Jesus the scapegoat—Jesus the eternal victim of the strongman’s tactics. More importantly, remember the scapegoats among us.

There’s a million ways to crucify God. "Crucify them,” Trump Christians shout as they watch immigrants board deportation planes. “Crucify them,” as religious fundamentalists look on in disdain at the Pride parade. “Crucify him,” as a Black man takes a knee. “Crucify her,” as an Episcopal priest preaches truth to power.

As followers of the crucified Christ and not the violent insurrectionist, we are freed from the perpetual cycle of blame, projection, and violence. Friday of Holy Week is only “Good” if we recognize Jesus was the victim to end all victims.

Gary Alan Taylor