Crown of Thorns

Read Mark 15:16-20

They put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. And they began to call out to him, “Hail, king of the Jews!” –Mark 15:27-28

The soldiers didn’t just crucify Jesus. They mocked him. They dressed him up in a purple robe, placed a reed in his hand, and pushed a crown of thorns upon his head. They laughed as they bowed before him and hailed him “King of the Jews.”

All this took place to fulfill the words of the 22nd Psalm. (It is worth reading the Psalm in its entirety; the many connections to the story of Jesus’ crucifixion are uncanny.) The mocking of crowds and the soldiers mirrors perfectly what David wrote:

All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads.
“He trusts in the Lord,” they say,
“let the Lord rescue him.
Let him deliver him,
since he delights in him.” (vv. 7-8)

Those who are the subject of mockery experience a double pain. They suffer first the pain of their loss (losing a game or an election, or the physical pain of a fall). Added to that is the pain of having their pain exposed and ridiculed. There’s a reason we learn to be tough on the playground—exposed weakness gets mocked. So we learn to hide our weakness and vulnerability. In fact, this is one of the reasons we mock others, as a way of hiding our own vulnerability and weakness (making ourselves feel strong and powerful instead).

The antidote to mockery is empathy. We cannot mock those with whom we feel a connection and compassion. The problem is that we all have selective empathy. We empathize with those with whom we share an identity. Those who cheer for the same team, those who have walked a similar path, or known a similar pain. The more someone feels like an “other”—or even an enemy—the easier it is to mock their pain.

This is why mockery flourishes in a hyper-polarized society. It is also why mockery flourishes online, when it is easy to see others as an “object” rather than as a person with feelings like our own. In a way, mocking someone (or laughing at their mockery) becomes a way of reinforcing our belonging and hiding our insecurity:

When people ridicule an outsider together, they create a quick bond. The laughter signals belonging. The cruelty signals loyalty. It is a fast way to prove you are on the right side of the line. When group identity becomes central, humiliating the out-group becomes a method of reinforcing the in-group. Ridicule becomes a ritual of cohesion. (Source: https://profrjstarr.com/essays/the-psychology-of-mockery)

All this to say, it amazes me to think how vulnerable Jesus made himself for us. He endured not only the beating and suffering of the cross, but he also endured the taunts and mockery of others. He made himself vulnerable in every way, so that those who endure mockery in our world may know they are never alone.

As we reflect on the story of Jesus’ mocking, let us be aware of the culture of mockery we live in today. Mockery is sometimes dismissed or defended as simply humor. Lighten up, the mocker says. Toughen up! Don’t be a baby, it’s just a joke. But mockery is no joke. Humor and humiliation are not the same thing. Mockery stings, then it hardens, and ultimately it divides us against one another.

So if you hear someone mocking another person—whether it is on social media, on the news, or in the office—pause for a moment to consider the experience of the one being shamed. Remember that empathy is the antidote to mockery. If we can learn to see one another as humans and honor the things that connect us all, maybe we can learn to stand with those who are being mocked—as Jesus did—and remind them that they are not alone.

In lieu of my usual prayer, try praying these words from an old hymn by Fred Pratt Green:

To mock your reign, O dearest Lord, they made a crown of thorns;

Set you with taunts along the road, from which no one returns.

They could not know, as we do now, how glorious is that crown:

That thorns would flower upon your brow, your sorrows heal our own.

In mock acclaim, O gracious Lord, they snatched a purple cloak,

Your passion turned, for all they cared, into a soldier's joke.

They could not know, as we do now, that though we merit blame,

You will your robe of mercy throw, around our naked shame.

A sceptered reed, O patient Lord, they thrust into your hand,

And acted out their grim charade to its appointed end.

They could not know, as we do now, though empires rise and fall

Your Kingdom shall not cease to grow till love embraces all.

**Each day of this Holy Week, I am offering a song for further reflection. Today’s song is “Forsaken” by Aaron Shust, an adaptation of the 22nd Psalm.