By Rev. Todd R. Lattig
Read Leviticus 16:20-22; Hebrews 9:11-14
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“The Lord laid on him the sins of us all.” (Isaiah 53:6b NLT)
Everyone today wants to be the GOAT—the Greatest of All Time. It’s a title reserved for icons, legends, and game-changers. In the world of faith, it’s hard to argue that anyone but Jesus holds that place. But there’s an irony here. Before “GOAT” meant greatness, it meant shame. Before it was a cultural crown, it was a spiritual burden.
On the Day of Atonement in ancient Israel, two goats were chosen. One was sacrificed; the other was spared—but only to become the scapegoat. The high priest would place his hands on its head and confess the sins of the people over it, transferring their guilt symbolically onto the animal. Then that goat was led into the wilderness, cast out, separated, removed from the community. It carried the weight of everything the people couldn’t bear to face.
That goat hadn’t done anything wrong. It was simply convenient.
When Jesus went to the cross, he wasn’t punished for his own failure. He became the scapegoat—absorbing the fear, blame, and rejection of an entire world. The religious leaders declared him dangerous. The political powers found him disposable. The crowd went along with it. And just like the goat driven into the wild, Jesus was led outside the city… left to die for sins he didn’t commit.
But unlike the scapegoat, Jesus didn’t vanish. He rose.
And when he did, he broke the entire system. Jesus is the GOAT not because he replaced the scapegoat, but because he exposed the whole scapegoating system for what it is—and showed us a better way. He revealed that God’s way isn’t about blame—it’s about mercy. He took the worst we could offer—fear, violence, shame—and returned only love.
And that should make us pause.
Because in every generation, we find new scapegoats. Every time we cast someone out to feel safe or righteous, we echo the crowd at the cross. Every time we protect our comfort at the expense of compassion, we walk the path of the high priest, hands pressing down on a head that didn’t earn what we’re unloading.
So if we’re still casting people out—still scapegoating the vulnerable, the queer, the different, the disruptive—we’ve missed the whole point. Jesus didn’t come to affirm our cycles of fear. He came to expose them. He didn’t just carry our sin—he unmasked the systems we use to excuse it.
And when we exile others to preserve our comfort, we reenact the very violence the cross was meant to dismantle.
And yet, even then, Jesus meets us—not with condemnation, but with mercy. The wilderness he entered wasn’t just for him. It was for all of us who’ve been pushed to the edges, and all of us who’ve done the pushing. He took that exile and turned it into a meeting place. A mercy seat. A threshold of transformation.
From that wilderness, he still calls—not to find another goat, but to become a people who stop blaming… and start belonging.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Jesus didn’t scapegoat anyone. He became the scapegoat to end the cycle of blame.PRAYER
Jesus, you are the Greatest of All Time—not because you crushed your enemies, but because you carried our shame. Forgive us when we look for scapegoats instead of grace. Teach us your way of mercy. Make us a people who stop blaming and start belonging. Amen.
Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).