Two previous columns have explored scapegoating as an ancient and well-documented process by which blame is assigned to a vulnerable victim held responsible for troubles threatening the equilibrium of a community—or the power and position of those in authority. As pervasive as this practice has been, and still is, it can never achieve its purpose. It never truly restores order. It only generates a continuing cycle of violence and victimization.
For scapegoating to succeed, a victim must be found guilty of behavior deeply offensive to the values of the community. The victim must be portrayed as an outsider—an alien in some way. By purging the community of the victim, order appears to be restored, at least for a time.
The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ expose the powerlessness of scapegoating. They also reveal the way those who follow Jesus in the way of the cross are called to resist its seductive promises and to confront, with peaceful courage, the evil it produces.
If this sounds familiar, it is because it reflects, however crudely, the work of René Girard (d. 2015). Girard began as a literary historian but became a profound anthropologist and theologian whose work on scapegoating has influenced many, myself included.
Girard often turns to ancient myths to illustrate his point, but the lesson may be clearer when we look at more recent history.
The Salem witch trials of 1692–93 led to the deaths of twenty people accused of witchcraft—alleged, but never proven. A climate of fear—disease, conflict with Native peoples, economic hardship, and a weakening social order—created the conditions for the community to search for someone to blame. In a kind of collective hysteria, suspicion fell upon men and women whose eccentricities set them apart. They were innocent victims, burdened with moral guilt that justified their deaths as a necessary sacrifice to restore equilibrium. The reasoning was simple: if these “witches” had not caused our suffering, we would not be in distress. Therefore, they had to be eliminated. This is scapegoating in its classic form.
Jewish communities, for centuries, have been among the most frequent and vulnerable targets of scapegoating throughout Europe. There distinctive clothing, unique language, and commitment to ancient Jewish practices or enough to set them apart and target them as the scapegoat to be accused of responsibility for all manner of violence and other troubles.
In the United States, we have found our own victims: American Indians, people of color, immigrants fleeing hardship, and others like them including Jews. Again and again, they have been made to bear blame for conditions for which they held no responsibility, declared guilty, and punished so that the dominant society might imagine itself restored to equilibrium.
It is difficult to comprehend, but ordinary people can participate in the most grotesque forms of scapegoating while believing they have purged threats to their well-being. It is estimated that nearly 4,000 Black men and women were lynched in the United States, with the practice peaking in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and continuing into the 1940s. Families could gather to witness a lynching and return home with a sense of self satisfied reassurance that a perceived contagion had been removed.
Jesus himself became the victim of scapegoating. He was condemned for all the usual reasons, yet the authorities could not demonstrate his guilt for the unrest among the people. Even the governor found no just cause to condemn him. He was not only an innocent victim; he was The innocent victim. And yet he refused the role assigned to him. He did not defend himself. He did not condemn those who condemned him. In Luke’s Gospel, he prays from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” In his resurrection, he reveals the futility of scapegoating and the emptiness of sacrificial violence. More than that, he shows that following him in the way of the cross is the only path to lasting hope and to a renewed capacity for peace and mutual concern.
This means that those of us who claim to be Christians are called to reject every form of scapegoating—to refuse participation in mob hysteria demanding vengeance, and to stand with peaceful courage against every force that pushes in that direction.
The old proverb is right: it is easier said than done. Some of the first words we learn are, “I didn’t do it,” “It’s not my fault,” and “It isn’t fair.” The impulse to shift blame is learned early and never entirely leaves us. Even as we mature and become more sophisticated in our thinking, the search for someone or something to blame remains close at hand. We are quick to punish others in the hope that doing so will restore order to our lives. To be sure, some are genuinely guilty, and some are the proximate cause of harm. But that very truth tempts us to assign guilt where it does not belong.
To follow Jesus in the way of the cross is to confess our participation in scapegoating and to recommit ourselves to a life shaped by justice, mercy, and humility before God. It leaves no room for the easy condemnation of others. It also calls us to confront public policies, public opinion, and public actions that depend upon scapegoating—and to do so by refusing to cooperate with them.
In recent weeks, a striking example of this has emerged in the response of many people in Minneapolis and Saint Paul, who have refused to participate in the victimization of immigrant communities. Through peaceful demonstrations, they have resisted being drawn into self-righteous violence. Through organized efforts, many have sought to provide safety and protection for vulnerable neighbors. Were they perfect? Certainly not. They are, like all of us, human. Nevertheless, their actions offer a compelling example of people—whether consciously or not—walking in the way of the cross.
As Holy Week approaches and Easter draws near, this lesson deserves our attention. We will celebrate with joyful hymns and loud alleluias, but the deeper call is to follow Jesus by refusing to cooperate with scapegoating in any form—especially when it appears at the national level.