Lamb of God or Scapegoat of Humanity?

It seems that we have to linger a bit on the death of Jesus. That sabbath day that he spent entirely in the grave, dead. I think for us as Christians, there is a special symbolism for this particular sabbath day in the Old Testament: Yom Kippur; the sabbath of sabbaths, (in Hebrew, Shabbat Shabbaton, “Sabbath of solemn rest”) (Leviticus 16:31; 23:32). 

Humans are a peculiar species. It seems that we carry so much guilt inside of us that we are usually unaware of. How do I know? Take the elaborate sacrificial system that the Israelites established to rid themselves of guilt and sin: 

“Tell the whole community of Israel that on the tenth day of this month each man is to take a lamb for his family, one for each household… The animals you choose must be year-old males without defect… Take care of them until the fourteenth day… and slaughter them at twilight. Then they are to take some of the blood and put it on the sides and tops of the doorframes…” (Exodus 12:3–7) 

“On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn… But the blood on your doorposts will serve as a sign… When I see the blood, I will pass over you.” (Exodus 12:12–13)

“It must be eaten inside the house; take none of the meat outside. Do not break any of the bones.” (Exodus 12:46)

The New Testament picks up on this imagery as Jesus proclaimed the lamb of God: John the Baptist identifies Jesus with the sacrificial lamb, introducing this central image early in the Gospel narrative: 

“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29)

Paul explicitly links Jesus with the Passover lamb:

“For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.” (1 Corinthians 5:7)

“These things happened so that the scripture would be fulfilled: ‘Not one of his bones will be broken” (John 19:36 ).

This refers to Exodus 12:46, tying Jesus directly to the Passover lamb.

And as we saw before, the imagery of revelation emphasizes the victory of the lamb:

“Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne…” (Revelation 5:6)

Once the Israelites left Egypt for the promised land and they built the tabernacle in the wilderness, they instituted an individual sin offering in the temple: 

“If someone brings a lamb as their sin offering, they are to bring a female without defect. They are to lay their hand on its head and slaughter it… The priest shall take some of the blood… and pour the rest at the base of the altar… In this way the priest will make atonement for them for the sin they have committed, and they will be forgiven.” (Leviticus 4:32–35)

This imagery of the sacrifice in the tabernacle and later on in the temple is also used in the New Testament, where we read: 

“It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins… We have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” (Hebrews 10:1–10)

“He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves; but he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood… to cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death.” (Hebrews 9:12–14)

The most Holy place was the innermost part of the temple. In fact, only the high priest could enter it and on only a single day of the year: 

“Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come whenever he chooses into the Most Holy Place… or else he will die.” (Leviticus 16:2)

On Yom Kippur, and only on that day, the High Priest entered the Most Holy Place (behind the veil) to sprinkle blood on the Ark of the Covenant (the Mercy Seat) to atone for the sins of the people. This meticulous act is described in detail in Leviticus 16: 

“Aaron is to offer the bull for his own sin offering to make atonement for himself and his household.Then he is to take the two goats and present them before the Lord at the entrance to the tent of meeting.He is to cast lots for the two goats—one lot for the Lord and the other for the scapegoat.Aaron shall bring the goat whose lot falls to the Lord and sacrifice it for a sin offering. But the goat chosen by lot as the scapegoat shall be presented alive before the Lord to be used for making atonement by sending it into the wilderness as a scapegoat.

“He shall then slaughter the goat for the sin offering for the people and take its blood behind the curtain and … He shall sprinkle it on the atonement cover and in front of it.In this way he will make atonement for the Most Holy Place because of the uncleanness and rebellion of the Israelites, whatever their sins have been…

“When Aaron has finished making atonement for the Most Holy Place, the tent of meeting and the altar, he shall bring forward the live goat.He is to lay both hands on the head of the live goat and confess over it all the wickedness and rebellion of the Israelites—all their sins—and put them on the goat’s head. He shall send the goat away into the wilderness in the care of someone appointed for the task.The goat will carry on itself all their sins to a remote place; and the man shall release it in the wilderness.

The imagery of the sacrificial lamb and its symbolic representation in the sacrifice of Jesus is known in the Seventh-day Adventist Church. This is where I learned about it. But it seems to me that these is another symbol for how we as Christian relate to our guilt and our belief in Jesus, and that is the symbol of the scapegoat. 

Leviticus mentions two goats, one for sacrifice in the most Holy place and one that gets released in the wilderness. They go hand in hand, they go together. The sacrifice at Yom Kippur cleanses the sins of everyone, not just one individual. Both goats are important for the forgiveness of sins of the whole nation. In Christianity, we mostly use the imagery of the lamb of God to refer to the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, but it seems to me that a lot of the time, we treat Jesus as our scapegoat. Azazel, where the scapegoat is sent to, is traditionally interpreted as a desolate place or a demonic figure. This is literally where the word “scapegoat” comes from—a mistranslation of “Azazel” in the early English Bibles as “escape goat.”

These two goats offer two different mechanisms for the removal of guilt and sin. 

The sacrificial goat was killed and its blood was taken by the high priest into the Most Holy Place and sprinkled on and before the Ark of the Covenant (Leviticus 16:15–16). This act of blood sacrifice atoned for the ritual impurity and transgressions of the people. The focus here is on purification — especially of the sanctuary itself, which had been symbolically defiled by the sins of the people throughout the year. The guilt addressed by this goat is the objective, ritual, and legal liability of sin before God.

“Then he shall slaughter the goat of the sin offering… and do with its blood as he did with the blood of the bull, sprinkling it on the atonement cover and in front of it” (Leviticus 16:15). 

This goat deals with the heavenly or divine side of sin — the need for reconciliation between God and the people through substitutionary blood. The mechanism is legal and sacrificial.

The second goat was not killed. Instead, the high priest laid both hands on its head and confessed over it the sins of the people, symbolically transferring their guilt onto the animal. Then, the goat was led away into the wilderness “to Azazel,” carrying the sins of the people far from the camp (Leviticus 16:21–22). This ritual did not purify the sanctuary but instead removed the people’s moral burden, their psychological and communal sense of guilt.

The scapegoat’s mechanism is transferal and exile — it carries sin away, outside the camp, never to return. It signifies cleansing from moral stain, the expulsion of guilt from the community and from individual conscience.

To summarize: The first goat satisfies the legal demand of justice and restores purity to the sanctuary through blood. The second goat addresses the emotional and communal need for guilt to be removed — forgotten.

René Girard, a French philosopher of social science whose work belongs to the tradition of philosophical anthropology, explored how human societies rely on scapegoating to resolve conflict and maintain order.  He spoke of “Mimetic Desire.” We humans don’t really know what we desire, but when we see someone possessing and enjoying something we don’t, then we desire the same things. We imitate each other’s desires. This is what happens when you live in society. And because there are limited resources, we end up in rivalry and conflict. But in order for society to restore peace, it uses a scapegoat. A person, or a group of people, is blamed for all the ills of society, and their banishment is sought in order to restore peace. (Does this ring any bells with respect to the current political environment all over the world?)

It is fascinating to think of how things worked out at the time of Jesus’s crucifixion. The Jews and Romans were mortal enemies. They hated each other to the bone. The Jews made trouble for the Romans at every possible point and the romans had to crush any sign of rebellion with an iron fist. But on that day, Jews and Romans became friends. They became of one mind and they had a single purpose, the torture and crucifixion of Jesus. By laying guilt and sins on one individual, and committing a communal act of violence, the whole society could live in harmony and peace. This is precisely the mechanism and power of scapegoating. 

But Girard sees some fundamental differences in the regular scapegoat mechanism and the one that Jesus underwent on the cross. According to Girard, all mythic and ritual systems rely on a scapegoat—an innocent victim upon whom collective guilt is projected—to restore social order. These systems hide the victim’s innocence, thereby justifying communal violence. In contrast, the Gospels reveal Jesus as completely innocent. Despite being condemned by religious leaders, sentenced by Roman authorities, and derided by the crowd, the texts insist on his faultlessness, exposing the injustice inherent in scapegoating.

Jesus consciously accepts his role as a scapegoat, yet he subverts its traditional function. In contrast to myths where the victim’s death is seen as necessary for restoring order, Jesus’ death results from collective sin. His declaration in John that no one takes His life, but that He lays it down of His own accord, encapsulates His deliberate self-sacrifice. By refraining from retaliation and instead forgiving his executioners—“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”—Jesus breaks the cycle of mimetic violence, undermining the moral legitimacy of the scapegoating process.

The resurrection further vindicates Jesus and confirms that the violence inflicted upon him was not sacred but a human failing. Unlike traditional myths where the scapegoated remains dead or is only posthumously deified, the resurrection decisively breaks the cycle of violence. Girard argues that the cross, by unmasking the scapegoating mechanism, does not perpetuate sacrificial violence but undoes it entirely. He famously states that the Gospels are “not myths; they are the undoing of myth.” Through his death and resurrection, Jesus exposes the false promise of sacrificial violence and offers a new paradigm based on forgiveness and reconciliation—a transformative vision for human society that calls an end to the cycle of mimetic violence.

Jesus was killed outside the city gates, exemplifying the act of taking the goat away in the wilderness. It cannot remain inside, guilt and sin has to be taken away so that the city will be cleansed. The New Testament writers see Jesus as fulfilling both roles of the two goats — His blood cleanses the heavenly sanctuary (Hebrews 9:12), and He bears our sins “outside the camp” (Hebrews 13:12). Therefore Jesus also, that He might sanctify the people through His own blood, suffered outside the gate, removing our guilt once and for all.

How do we still scapegoat Jesus? Do we use the suffering and death of Jesus to bring us together at church? Are we still scapegoating others, in our homes, churches, and societies? 

Donald: What do you mean by “are we still scapegoating others”?

Michael: Do we still use the suffering and death of Jesus to bring us together at church? I’m wondering if we’re still using the imagery of the crucifixion in a way that lets us get rid of our guilt by saying, “Well, you know, Jesus died on the cross, so we’re okay.” And I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad—because that is what Jesus did—but I’m just trying to make us aware that we are doing it.

And then the second point is: are we still scapegoating others in our homes, churches, and societies? I think we do this more than we realize.

Donald: And what does that mean?

Michael: I think it means that if there’s any sort of conflict or problem—at home, in church, or in society—we pick someone, or pick an act that someone has done, and blame everything on it. That way, we say, “If we fix that, then everything will be good.”

C-J: I think making someone the scapegoat is a way of denying accountability. We just lay it on the head of the goat and say goodbye—we won’t think about it again. But in a sacrifice that requires life, there is accountability because of the relationship. You took a life—a life to cover your lack of responsibility. You’re asking that blood to cover your responsibility because you’re still unwilling to take responsibility yourself.

With Jesus and our relationship with God, it is grace. The other two—scapegoating or substitution—are by the hand of humanity. So we dismiss people we don’t like—especially as you mentioned, in politics: “I’ll just fire this guy. He’s out. Don’t worry about it anymore. Don’t look over here—I know what I’m doing.”

In relationship with God that requires blood, it means I not only acknowledge my sin, but I choose not to continue in my sin. Because once the life is taken from that lamb, it’s not able to have self-destiny. It can’t make changes. It is finished. And I think in our relationship with God, God wants us to choose a relationship that holds us accountable. God wants me to take responsibility for my failings and say, “Now let’s look at that. Why did you make that choice?” Yes, you were forgiven by grace—but why did you make that choice? And how does that choice separate us?

With the scapegoat, there’s no question about why it was sent away. I want power and authority over my life. With Jesus, we submit to God’s authority over our lives.

Kiran: I like this new take on the scapegoat. I never thought about it like this before—about how Jesus exposed scapegoating. And I’m thinking, for example, in our churches, there’s this idea that the condition of the country is because of the Hollywood elites, or political leaders, or atheists, or people who don’t come to church. That’s why we have moral decline. And if we fight against them, then we’ll restore our church—or our country—back to its previous glory. That’s the mentality.

But as you pointed out, if you think about what Jesus did after the resurrection, he asked the disciples to go to every country and embrace the people. So when we move away from that kind of thinking and instead view all people—regardless of race, gender, whatever—as children of God, it creates a different kind of society. It’s scary, because our limited brains can’t compute what that would look like. We only think of the negatives, so we want to stay in our little secure place and blame others.

Another thing I notice in our churches is that we come in blaming others, pointing fingers. But eventually there comes a moment—I’d say it’s the Holy Spirit—where you look inside yourself and realize you’re the one who’s wrong. That’s where repentance comes. That’s why a lot of people come to church in the first place. Otherwise, they wouldn’t. But then we forget. We forget that all we’re supposed to do is look inside and look at Christ. Instead, we go back to looking at others, because that’s our default nature.

We need reminders like the one you gave today—reminders that we’re keeping our eyes on others instead of ourselves and Jesus. And we need to get back to the basics.

C-J: It’s interesting how you said the Romans and Jews hated each other until they agreed that Jesus had to die. Then they were on the same page. Both got what they wanted. Jesus was disrupting what was happening inside the temple—Sadducees, Pharisees, and doctrine—and for the Romans, he was a political threat.

So I think, as Kiran just said, and you as well—when we use examples from Scripture and historical texts, it goes back to that binary mindset: What benefits me most? What’s my agenda? How much am I willing to invest? Because there’s always some level of accountability. Life perpetuates itself. What legacy are we leaving for future generations—through religion, politics, and society?

Our Constitution says there shall be a separation of church and state, but historically, politics mirrored religion. They had to align to survive. We see that over and over again, and it’s supported through economics—tithes, guilt, power—braided together so everyone survives. It just depends how much you’re putting in that pot. How much is required by the government? And when you add God, now you’ve got the mandate of heaven.

It’s all tightly braided. You can’t separate them. We replicate it in our families. The man is the head of the house, women have their roles, children behave a certain way. We internalize that and start to think and act that way. Everything in its place.

Michael: So why? I mean, I didn’t get enough time to really think about this, but I’m wondering—why was that secondgoat even needed? If the sin is taken care of by God, then why do we also need, on the human side, to feel that we got rid of it? That second goat, sent into the wilderness, it’s not about justification before God. It’s about us, as humans, needing to dump our conflict onto someone so we can live together.

C-J: You’re exactly right. With the second goat, there’s no accountability. Just turn the page. When you take a life, that has consequences. It can’t be undone. With the scapegoat, you don’t know if it lives or dies. Maybe it gets eaten by a predator, gets sick, falls off a cliff—you don’t care. It just goes away and is remembered no more. And because it happens once a year, you feel like, “I can do whatever I want, and it’ll go away.”

But taking a life—that’s irreversible. That’s not a “let’s try again” moment. It’s a different level of commitment. It shows what kind of environment you want to create. We create our own misery—God doesn’t do that. Humanity does.

Kiran: The traditional explanation in the Adventist Church is that the lamb represents Christ and the goat represents Satan. Satan is the reason the world is the way it is. So after redeeming people from this planet, the guilt is transferred to Satan, and he’s left in the wilderness to reflect. It’s a harsh environment where he will die.

All these festivals were given to Moses by God, according to the Torah. It’s not like Moses made them up—God told him what to do. These festivals symbolically explain the unfolding of history, from then until the new beginning.

And in Revelation, it says that when Jesus comes again, the resurrected believers go to heaven, and Earth becomes desolate. Satan and his angels are thrown down to Earth to reflect for 1,000 years. That’s the scapegoating part. Then, after 1,000 years, the holy city comes to Earth, and the great judgment happens. Everyone sees the panorama of history and realizes what they did. Then some are destroyed.

But I also want to stay open to the idea that maybe Moses came up with this. Maybe it’s a human projection—that we want to scapegoat. Why do we need the second goat? The first is the lamb, the second is the goat. In the parables, sheep are loyal followers, goats are rebellious. Maybe it’s that simple.

Michael: I’ve thought about that. But here’s the thing: Yom Kippur is the only time a goat is sacrificed, and it’s the only time the high priest enters the Most Holy Place. That’s very important when thinking about Jesus—because when he died, the veil to the Most Holy Place was torn. Jesus is the Lamb of God, but the symbolism of Yom Kippur applies. When a lamb is sacrificed, the Most Holy Place isn’t accessed. But when the goat is sacrificed on Yom Kippur—it is. So that symbolism matters.

Reinhard: To me, all these sacrifices—the ones involving the goat and the scapegoat—are just one type among several. We know that in Israel, there were multiple kinds of sacrifices throughout the year—lambs, goats, bulls, oxen, etc.

But here we’re talking specifically about the sacrifice by an individual or a community who committed a sin or violation. What I want to emphasize is that the point of these sacrifices was to atone for individual and community sin. That’s what God taught the Israelites.

The idea was: when an animal was sacrificed, it was meant to teach obedience. I think God was using this as a way to shape their personality and behavior. But maybe people weren’t truly repentant. When people genuinely repent, that’s different. And of course, Jesus eventually became the final sacrificial lamb. God is also the one who takes away sin—He’s the high priest, as we know.

Back then, God may have seemed far away from the individual. His word came only through prophets. But in Jesus’ time, the relationship with God was perfected. When we accept Jesus, we get closer to God. All God requires is confession and repentance.

In the Old Testament, people had to bring sacrifices every year, or whenever they sinned. But I think that was still distant—just ritual. When Jesus came, he showed us what true repentance looks like. That’s why we no longer need animal sacrifices. Jesus did it once for all. When we believe in Him, that takes away the need for ritual sacrifice. That’s what Jesus was trying to teach us: obey God, live with a clean heart, and stop committing the same sins.

And even if we still make mistakes, we don’t need to bring an animal. We just return to God and repent. That’s what Jesus showed us—the difference between the old system and the new one.

Donald: I get stuck on certain ideas, and mine is probably a bit simplistic compared to this conversation. I got stuck on the word blame. It’s an interesting concept—how human beings want to blame something or someone else. It’s a form of displacement.

I think that relates to what you’re all talking about. I don’t think I’ve ever said, in a prayer, “I blame someone else.” God sees through that. But in human circumstances, we do it all the time: “I blame this, I blame that, I blame you for this.” It’s constant. We displace our wrongdoing onto something or someone else.

Where did blame begin? Was blame part of original sin? I think Adam blamed Eve, didn’t he? “She made me do it.” God sees through that.

Then there’s another term—what was it? Mimetic desire? I’m not sure I’m pronouncing it right. But that’s an interesting idea: we don’t really desire something until we see someone else with it. That’s kind of the opposite of blame. Instead of displacing guilt, we pull something toward us. We covet. We’re told not to covet—but good luck with that. That’s how we learn.

Watch two kids playing. One is doing something, and the other one sees it and mimics it. Is that wrong? We mimic, and then we blame. It happens really quickly. “It wasn’t my fault. It was his fault.” We did that constantly as kids.

So, I don’t know if these ideas add to the conversation, but those are the two concepts that are on my mind: blame and mimicking.

Don: Michael, I think you said that the lamb used as a sin offering had to be a female lamb without blemish. I wonder if that means God is a woman.

Michael: That’s a very good observation.

Don: I think the story of the two goats appeals to our sense of needing to get rid of something. It’s not enough to say, “Jesus took the sin.” We have to see it gone. It has to be expelled somehow.

That’s the challenge with grace—it’s so hard to accept. It seems too easy, too free. There’s no cost. But humans seem to need to see something removed, expelled, taken outside the camp. That’s what makes it feel real. Without that, it’s hard to accept grace. I don’t know if that’s right, but it seems to me that we need to see it gone in order to believe that it’s really been dealt with.

C-J: That implies we know—intuitively—that we can’t do it ourselves. We can’t remove our own sin. We can’t stop sinning or harming others or the environment. We’re flawed in our thinking. And because we’re flawed, we’re powerless to change without God. It’s only by grace and love.

Reinhard: I agree. Going back to animal sacrifice, I think God knows that we as humans don’t have the ability. In Psalm 51:16–17 it says: “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”

So what God wants is confession and repentance from the heart. In the Old Testament, people always violated God’s law and then brought sacrifices. In the New Testament, it’s easier. After Jesus died on the cross, our prayers go directly to God. We don’t need animal sacrifice anymore. What Jesus did is enough—once for all.

God wants our hearts to be aligned with Him. If we do something wrong, we ask for forgiveness. And God is always available. He’s always trying to reach us. In the Old Testament, the relationship was more distant. But now, God is only a heartbeat away. Through prayer, we can draw near to Him anytime.

Donald: So, I’ll go back to it. I think about my prayers over my lifetime, and I don’t know that I’ve ever blamed anybody for anything in prayer. Is that because we recognize that God knows our hearts and we can’t get away with anything?

Don: Do you blame the devil for your sins?

Donald: Then I wouldn’t be accountable for my sins. If the devil made me do it, then am I really accountable? No. I think we are accountable for our wrongdoings, and that’s what God wants—acknowledgment and a request for forgiveness. And we know He’ll accept it. By the grace of God, all is well. But this concept of blame—it doesn’t even show up in prayer, even though it’s everywhere in life. It’s interesting. Maybe we think we can get away with it because no one else knows our heart.

C-J: I agree. Sometimes when I’m praying, I just stop myself and say, “I choose God.” That resets everything. That reminds me: who’s in control? Release it to God. It doesn’t matter who’s accountable for what. Just choose God. Do what you know to do. You don’t know the beginning or the end—that’s God’s business.

It’s hard to get out of God’s way sometimes. The way I was raised, you’re accountable. “What choice did you make that led to this?” My father was very military in his approach. Society expects it, too—your job, school: “Why’d you get a C when you’re capable of an A? Didn’t you study?” But I think God just asks us to trust. To realize that the only way we can really walk with Him is to be humble. To know that we are frail and inadequate.

And when I hear that voice in my head asking, “Connie, is this therapeutic? How does this help you?” I remember: let go, let God. He will reveal what I need to know. Only God can give me peace. When I choose God, I usually get it.

Donald: So what’s the purpose of acknowledging one’s wrongdoings?

C-J: It allows us to develop critical thinking beyond simple cause and effect. If I drop a glass and it breaks, I could have predicted that. But could I have predicted that it was my great-grandmother’s glass and irreplaceable?

We have to understand that iniquity is always with us. Cause and effect isn’t always obvious—it comes from flawed thinking. Only God can reveal that and break the cycle. That’s grace: “Lord, I didn’t see it. I thought I was doing right, but clearly the result shows I was wrong.”

My father would say, “Your intention was good, but the outcome was wrong.”

Don: Robin, I want to acknowledge your presence here. Thank you for being here. Do you have any thoughts you’d like to share?

Robin: I’ve been away from class for a long time, and this is really mind-boggling to me—the idea of Christ being the scapegoat. I’m from a generation that was taught Christ is the Lamb, and the scapegoat is Satan. So the idea of two goats—it kind of boggles my mind. But it gives me a lot of food for thought this week.

Michael: I wasn’t aware that there was a specific Seventh-day Adventist explanation for the goat. I would’ve been more careful if I’d known. But I just didn’t think anyone had ever interpreted it that way.

Still, it seems to me that Jesus is the Lamb of God, but we also wanted to throw our sins on someone—and in the moment of crucifixion, we threw them on Jesus. That’s how he became the scapegoat in that moment.

I wonder if we still do it today. I don’t know—that’s why I posed the questions. I don’t think I’ve fully explored the topic. I wrote that essay in a day. But I like Dr. Weaver’s observation that scapegoating is just a visible reminder that we got rid of sin. It’s not something God needs—it’s something we need. It just makes us feel better. But I don’t think it serves anything for God.

So I wonder, what’s the better way? Maybe it is what C-J and Donald were saying—when I admit my sin, that breaks the scapegoating cycle.

Don: We’ll pick it up next week.

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