#129 - Scapegoat Season {Reflections}

A crowd can make good people do ugly things, and sometimes the scariest part is how normal it feels while it’s happening. We start with a haunting detail from Mark’s Gospel: while Jesus is being crucified, random passersby still stop to hurl insults. Why would someone who has nothing to gain join in? What kind of social force turns bystanders into participants, and turns cruelty into a group activity?

We connect that question to a simple story from childhood where a group of friends panics, then saves itself by blaming one outsider. That instinct to preserve unity by choosing a target is exactly what French philosopher Rene Girard explored through mimetic contagion and the scapegoat mechanism. When tension rises, emotions spread, and a community unconsciously offloads its conflict onto one person, the group feels united again, but the “peace” comes at the victim’s expense. It’s an unsettling framework for understanding mob behavior, public outrage cycles, and why cancel culture can feel satisfying even when it’s unjust.

Then we return to the cross and see something shocking: Jesus refuses to retaliate. Instead of returning violence with violence, he absorbs it and speaks forgiveness, exposing scapegoating for what it is. We end with a practical invitation for Lent and beyond: resist the pull of the crowd, stop hunting for scapegoats, admit our own need for mercy, and follow a way that actually heals. If this conversation helps you, subscribe, share it with a friend, and leave a review, and tell us where you see scapegoating showing up today.

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Transcript

Why Bystanders Join Cruelty

A Fifth Grade Scapegoat

Rene Girard And Mimetic Contagion

Jesus As The Scapegoat

Cancel Culture And The Pleasure Of Blame

Forgiveness That Breaks The Cycle

Invitation To Resist The Crowd

SPEAKER_00 0:16

What is up everybody? Hey, this is Ryan. Welcome to our Reflections podcast. Hey, still Lent, and at least when I record this. And we're kind of like, I don't know, I think by accident, I've done a couple of podcasts here that are in the Lenten sort of spirit or theme. And last week I did a talk, our little podcast episode on the madness of the crowds and how uh that great Rick and Morty line, how he says, uh, your booze mean nothing to me because I've seen what makes you cheer. And it reminded me of this other phenomenon that happens when crowds gather. So like the idea last week is like the opinions of the crowd don't maybe don't matter so much because the crowds can be wrong. But there's also like this social contagion, like this sort of manifestation when crowds get together that like it turns into something that's like greater than the sum of its parts. So here's what I mean: there's this crazy scene at the cross. I mean, the whole cross is a crazy scene. But in Mark's gospel, the cross is going on, Jesus is being crucified, people everywhere. And Mark says those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads at him. Like, what? So like there's this whole scene, Jesus being crucified, this tumultuous, you know, the beatings, the floggings, the whipping, the cursing, the mocking, the crown of thorns, all of it. They march him up to the cross. And then it seems like in this moment, like this dark moment of human history, passerbys just start yelling out curses at and insults at him, like rubbing salt in the wound. Like these folks are on their way to the grocery store or whatever, and they just start yelling insults at Jesus. Like, why would they do that? What on earth would compel them to like jump into this madness and this scene? They're just passing by. Like they have things they're doing. And it reminded me kind of of when I was in fifth grade, went to a buddy's birthday party, and uh there's like eight young boys there, eight fifth graders. And hit one of my friend's moms left to go to the store to get some uh I think snacks for us. And while she was gone, so she was a single mother, it was just us. While she was gone, we began to light paper airplanes on fire and throw them off the balcony. You know, like you do when you're in fifth grade and you're bored. Well, she came home and flipped out. Now, mind you, as an adult, I'm like, hey, this was your fault, lady. Like you left us unattended for like an hour. This is on you. But no, I digress. So we were like panicked and we were in fifth grade, and I don't remember how it happened, but over the course of like the next hour, her mom was like, or his mom was like, we're gonna send you all home. And we were like devastated because we wanted to hang out. We all decided to blame it on this one kid who was the the main kid's, it was his cousin. And like already he was like kind of the outsider, we didn't really know him, and we were all friends from school, and he was a family member. So let's just blame him. And we all rallied together to blame this kid. And his mom, the mom of the kid whose birthday party it was, uh, was like, we dropped him off. So she's like, You're all going home. So she dropped him off first, and then we're like, hey, it was his fault, and totally blamed him. Now don't don't stone me. I'm I've grown and matured a lot in my as I've as I'm 46 now. I wouldn't do this now, but we were in fifth grade. And anyway, she um she dropped him off and she's like, I I figured it was probably him, and she's like, You all can stay. And I'm not proud of it, but it was weird how like we all quickly rallied over and against him. And it's weird how crowds operate. I mean, history shows us again and again. When you look at it back through history, that when people gather together, something strange begins to happen. Like emotions spread, opinions spread through the crowds, anger spreads, even like it's not, it's it's it's uh you can't even understand why it's happening. It's almost a mystery. But like individuals stop thinking as individuals and they start to act as this giant mob or amoeba or crowd. And sometimes in these cases, the crowds can become dangerous. Why are these passerbys insulting Jesus? Why would a bunch of friends rally over and against some other kid when we were all to blame? Now, there's this French historian and philosopher named Renee Girard. He studied this phenomenon. He calls it mimetic contagion. And it's kind of complex, you can Google it. But it's this kind of social virus where emotions and desires, they kind of spread from person to person in a uh until the entire group kind of becomes infected and kind of caught up in the whole moment. And when that happens, the crowds often will look for someone to blame. And they look for a scapegoat, is the technical term. They call this a scapegoat. And Girard calls this the scapegoat mechanism. That he argues that this pattern shows up again and again in human history, literature, movies, and in our communities where there's this tension that's felt in the crowd, in the community, rivalry, conflict, anger, violence. And instead of dealing with those things directly, like, you know, head-on, the community instead unconsciously channels all of their hostility and anger and violence towards one single person, uh, the scapegoat. And everyone turns against the same victim, right? Which uh feels good unless you're the victim. And then suddenly the whole crowd unifies again, and they become like they become friends and they become a collective over and against the other person. But the unity that the group experiences comes, of course, at the expense of the scapegoat. Like the party went on with my friend and his at his apartment uh for his birthday, but at the expense of his cousin, who got kicked out of the group, and so it came at the expense of the scapegoat. And we see this, I mean, exactly to a T on the cross. In Matthew's telling of the story, Jesus is hanging on the cross between two criminals, and something odd happens even in that moment. Both criminals in Matthew's gospel, both of them, who in and of themselves, like they're both dying on the cross, and they have like they have like minutes, hours left in their life, they both start mocking Jesus, and they join the crowd who's already mocking Jesus, and they start mocking Jesus. Like, yeah, like that so Jesus becomes, of course, the scapegoat. And like, think about how bizarre that is. These men, they're hours away from death. You might expect them to have like silence or like reflection or contemplation, maybe even regret, um, or like begging to come down. But no, instead they start to pile on Jesus together. It's crazy. And they join the chorus of voices condemning the only innocent man in the whole crowd is Jesus. And they start to rally over and against him. And again, Mark tells it this way that in addition to that, these pastors by, pastor by, pastors by, pastor by, pastors by, also just randomly start hurling insults at Jesus. Like, why would they do that? Well, Girard, Renee Girard, would say that it's because they're caught up in the same contagious movement that had swept through all of Jerusalem that day. The crowd had decided who the enemy was. They wanted Jesus' blood. And once that decision is made, once they've gone forward, the pressure to join the crowd becomes overwhelming for all the people who are just standing there on the fringes and not really caught up in it yet. It becomes like a wave. And even those who have nothing to gain will join in. It's a wild social phenomenon. Yeah, so when tensions rise in a group, in a community, we instinctively look for someone to blame that we can push out until we feel united again. You know, like the enemy of my enemy becomes my friend, kind of a thing. And this is why cancel culture felt so good for people. Because they can combine rally over and against the scapegoat. And it made us feel virtuous at the same time, like, oh, I'm gonna judge that person. And we all pile on, so we all feel good about ourselves while making that person feel like the scapegoat. The problem of cancel culture, too, by the way, is that it doesn't recognize the fact that all of us have done things in our lives that we're ashamed of and for which we should we should get canceled. Like, if we're gonna cancel folks who are unvirtuous, then we should all be canceled, you know what I'm saying? And so Jesus is like the scapegoat in this scene. And if Renee Girard is right, then the scene on the cross reveals something profound about the human condition. Because, like, look who shows up at this cross at the crucifixion. You have Roman officials, Jewish religious leaders. Like, when are Jews and Romans, like the officials, what are they ever friends? They're not. Like the Romans were oppressive rulers over the Jews. You have random passers by in the crowd, you have soldiers, criminals, everybody who would normally not be friends, they rally together over and against Jesus. These groups have nothing in common. In fact, many of them hated each other, but suddenly they're all friends and they're united over and against Jesus. Who, again, is innocent. It's crazy. Even Pilate, as we mentioned last week, he knows that he's innocent. But he's like, if I go against the crowds, they'll come after me. So Pilate himself gives in, not because Jesus is guilty, but because he is afraid of the crowds. Yeah, beware trying to defend the scapegoat. Because if you defend the scapegoat, uh, you might become the new scapegoat. And Pilate is afraid of that. And so even though it was powerful man in the room gets swept up into the social contagion, this madness of crowds, the scapegoat mechanism. And the crowd demands a victim. And Jesus takes on the role of the scapegoat. But here's where the story takes a shocking turn. Jesus doesn't retaliate. You know, the scene actually reveals the innocence of the victim of the scapegoat in this sense, because Jesus is totally innocent and he doesn't retaliate. He could have easily returned violence with more violence, but he's not guilty, he's innocent. And when you're reading it, it's shocking how brutal this scene is. How these people who some of them don't even know Jesus, they're the random passers by hurtling insult at him, like the cross, the thieves on the cross. In Matthew's gospel, anyway, what they don't even know him, probably. And it looks irrational, brutal. And it looks exactly like what it is. It's mob violence. And Jesus responds in a completely unexpected way. He does not retaliate, he doesn't call down judgment. Instead, he absorbs all the violence and he offers forgiveness. He says, Father, forgive them. They don't know what they're doing. And in that moment, it unmasks the powers and the scapegoat mechanism. It pulls the curtain back, and you're like, oh my gosh, what are we doing? Yeah, the cross becomes the moment when the madness of the crowds is exposed for what it truly is: our tendency to unite by blaming and destroying somebody else. And Jesus shows another way. He refuses to participate with the scapegoating. He refuses to return violence with more violence. He chooses this way rooted in forgiveness and mercy and love and new life. Yeah, it's beautiful. And uh the question, though, I guess is it becomes like, why do we still see scapegoating today if Jesus unmasks the powers in this way, the scapegoat mechanism, the evil of scapegoating? I mean, we still see mobs, we still see outrage and violence and cancel culture. Well, I guess I would maybe suggest this, maybe the cross doesn't like magically erase uh our own violent tendencies and instincts of scapegoating overnight. But maybe what you find in the cross is an invitation to live a different life, to resist the pull of the crowd and by the power of the spirit to refuse the temptation of blaming and scapegoating others and realize, hey, look, man, my hands are just as dirty as the guy next to me and the one I'm trying to scapegoat and cancel. Like, I'm just as like I'm also just as dead, and I need a God who can raise the dead just like everybody else. So let's like stop the scapegoating and the pung. Let's just follow Jesus because his way is the only right way. And that I think is what will really truly heal the world. Okay, so there you go. So stop scapegoating and forgive. Alright, love you guys. Peace. Hey, if you enjoy this show, I'd love to have you share it with some friends. And don't forget, you are always welcome to join us in person at Central in Elk River at 8 30, which is our liturgical gathering, or at 10 o'clock, our modern gathering. Or you can check us out online at clcelkriver.org. Peace.