The Catholic liturgy held on Good Friday can seem puzzling if not positively repellent. Norms for the liturgy stipulate that during that day’s worship service a cross be displayed and that the priest and congregation “make a simple genuflection or perform some other sign of reverence according to local custom, for example, kissing the cross.” Older manuals suggest that the faithful “creep” to the cross by prostrating themselves before it in procession, and that they then kiss the feet of the crucified Jesus. The ritual seems to be the very embodiment of what Caputo describes as a counterfeit kingdom of God built on pain, repentance, dirge, mourning, guilt, punishment and “satisfying the wrath of an infinitely offended deity . . . that is out to collect every dime” (PT, 223). Indeed, a chant sung during the liturgy has God asking, “My people, what have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me! I led you out of Egypt, from slavery to freedom, but you led your Savior to the cross.” This chant, we should note, holds Jews responsible for the death of Jesus. God charges, “I led you from slavery to freedom and drowned your captors in the sea, but you handed me over to your high priests. . . . I led you on your way in a pillar of cloud, but you led me to Pilate’s court.”  even as they accept blame for sins of the past, are thus affirmed as the rightful children of Abraham and the proper heirs of God’s covenant. The chant reinforces, in other words, what Franklin Littell has called the myth of Christian supersession, or the idea that God is finished with the Jews and that Christians are now the site of God’s activity. It should be noted that Littell holds Christian supersessionism responsible at least in part for the horrors of the Holocaust.  The other effect of the Reproaches is to allow Christians to accuse themselves of sin, but in a derivative way. Christians are asked to recognize the sinfulness in themselves by looking at the sins of people whom God clearly (at least according to the chant) finds odious; something along the lines of, “Yes, God, I am as bad as those Jews who killed you were.” Kissing the feet of Jesus on the cross thus appears as a grovelling attempt not only to placate an infinitely offended deity, but also to re-establish Christians as the good children of God, as opposed to the wicked children who betrayed him. Is there another way to view the Good Friday ceremony, one more in keeping with Caputo’s characterization of the true kingdom of God as built on giving and forgiving and, above all, on “the prophet’s dream of letting justice flow like water over the land, of letting justice come ‘for all of God’s children’” (PT, 114)? Zlomislic, Marko; DeRoo, Neal. Cross and Khôra: Deconstruction and Christianity in the Work of John D. Caputo (Postmodern Ethics Book 1) (p. 43-4). Pickwick Publications, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition.

I find it compelling that certain Jews were intended as the object of blame for Jesus death by the New Testament writers.  It is present in sources such as 1 Thessalonians as the reason Paul was not only apocalyptic but the reason he thought the eschaton was actually underway.

14 For you, brothers and sisters, became imitators of the churches of God in Christ Jesus that are in Judea, for you suffered the same things from your own compatriots as they did from the Jews 15 who killed both the Lord Jesus and the prophets[a] and drove us out; they displease God and oppose everyone 16 by hindering us from speaking to the gentiles so that they may be saved. Thus they have constantly been filling up the measure of their sins, but wrath has overtaken them at last. (1 Thessalonians 2:14-16)

We know from sources like the Dead Sea Scrolls the various Jews factions were going after one another, so this isn’t blanket anti Semitism but intra Jewish polemics.  In Matthew 27:25, we read “Then the people as a whole answered, ‘His blood be on us and on our children!’”, and the gospels even blame the destruction of the 2^nd temple on God’s punishment of those who killed Jesus. 

Josephus notes an analogous situation to apocalyptic Jesus with doomsayer Jesus Ben Ananias.  Josephus explicitly frames this as the Jewish leadership collaborating with (or at least delivering the man to) Roman authority for punishment. The Jewish elite initiated the arrest and initial beating of Ananias, then transferred him to the Romans specifically so the Roman governor could deal with him—resulting in severe Roman flogging. This is the same pattern Josephus elsewhere attributes to how the Jewish aristocracy often worked with Roman officials to maintain order.  We can see then in the gospel of John how the Jewish elite weren’t allowed to kill Jesus (18:31), and so tricked the Romans into doing it for sedition charges revealed by Judas – someone who would have been thought to have the inside information as one of Jesus’ disciples.   And Jesus did think he and the disciples would rule in the new age, though not that he would raise an army in the traditional sense.

Certain commenters see the death of Jesus like that of Socrates as seeing oneself in those who killed Jesus and so an occasion for repentance/metanoia.

Traditionally, how does the chant mentioned above during the Good Friday ritual in Catholicism impute guilt for Jesus’ death on the catholic believer?

In the traditional Roman Catholic Good Friday liturgy (pre-Vatican II form, and still used in the Extraordinary Form or where permitted), the chant in question is the Improperia (Latin for “Reproaches”), also known as the Popule meus (“My people”) or the Reproaches of Christ.

These are sung (or chanted) during the Adoration/Veneration of the Cross portion of the Solemn Liturgy of the Passion. They are not part of the Passion Gospel reading itself (though the congregation sometimes voices the crowd’s lines—“Crucify him!” etc.—in dramatized readings of the Passion). The Improperia are an ancient antiphonal chant (dating back at least to the 9th century and formalized in the Roman Rite by the Middle Ages) in which Christ himself directly addresses the assembled faithful.

The structure is antiphonal: cantors sing Christ’s words of reproach, while the choir (and by extension the congregation) responds. The key opening lines set the tone (“My people, what have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me!”).  Cantors continue (“Because I led you out of the land of Egypt, you have prepared a cross for your Savior.”)

This pattern repeats through a series of contrasts: God’s historical acts of deliverance, protection, and provision for “you” (the people of God, typologically including the Church and every believer present) are set against humanity’s betrayal—scourging, handing over to priests, piercing, and crucifying the Savior. Each reproach ends with the full choir’s refrain repeating the opening question, followed by the Trisagion (sung alternately in Greek and Latin): (“Holy God… Holy and strong… Holy immortal One, have mercy on us.”)

The imputation of guilt to the Catholic believer is direct and personal because  the second-person address (“you” / “thee” / “my people”) is spoken by Christ to the congregation standing before the Cross. It is not merely historical blame placed on ancient Israel or “the Jews”; traditional Catholic interpretation applies it to all humanity’s sin, and thus to every believer’s own sins.

By participating in the liturgy—standing at the Cross, hearing Christ’s lament, and responding with the plea for mercy—the believer is liturgically placed in the role of the ungrateful people who repaid God’s goodness with the crucifixion. The chant explicitly states that “you” prepared the cross, scourged Christ, handed him over, etc.

The theological point (repeated in patristic and medieval sources, and in traditional commentaries) is that every sin repeats the crucifixion. The believer’s personal sins, ingratitude, and hardness of heart are what “nailed” Christ to the Cross; the chant forces this recognition so that the faithful may repent and receive mercy.

In short, the chant does not merely recall a past event; it makes the Catholic believer the direct addressee of Christ’s sorrowful accusation. The believer is thereby confronted with their own culpability through sin, which is why the only fitting response is the repeated cry for mercy in the Trisagion. This is why the Reproaches have long been considered one of the most moving and penitential moments of the entire liturgical year. In newer Ordinary Form practice the chant is often optional or shortened, but the traditional form retains this stark, personal confrontation.

This naturally leads to the question of were the Jewish elite around the time of Jesus who are portrayed as responsible for his death viewed by other Jews of that time as bad, corrupt, etc?  Yes, a significant number of Jews in the 1st century CE (around Jesus’ time, roughly 4 BCE–30/33 CE) viewed key segments of the Jewish elite—especially the high-priestly aristocracy, the leading priestly families (such as the houses of Annas and Caiaphas), and those aligned with the Sadducees—as corrupt, greedy, violent, oppressive, and compromised by power and Roman influence.

This was not a universal view held by every Jew (the Temple itself remained a central and beloved institution for most, with many continuing to support it through offerings), but criticism of the elite’s abuses is well-attested across diverse Jewish sources from the period and shortly after. These critiques came from within Judaism itself and reflect real socio-religious tensions in Judea under Roman rule. 

Josephus repeatedly describes the high-priestly families as power-hungry, involved in bribery (to secure the office from Roman procurators or kings), and using violence to exploit ordinary priests and the populace. For example, he recounts how the high priest Ananias (serving c. 47–59 CE, but reflecting patterns from earlier decades) and his servants seized tithes by force from threshing floors, beating those who resisted and leaving poorer priests destitute. Similar predatory behavior is attributed to other high-priestly circles. Josephus, though from a priestly family himself, portrays the elite as contributing to social breakdown through greed and factionalism.

The Dead Sea scrolls contain some of the harshest internal Jewish condemnations. The Jerusalem Temple priesthood is repeatedly attacked via the figure of the “Wicked Priest” (a high priest or priestly leader seen as illegitimate). He is accused of greed, defiling the Temple, amassing wealth through robbery, violating laws, and persecuting the righteous (including the “Teacher of Righteousness,” the sect’s leader). The Essenes essentially withdrew from Jerusalem society because they viewed the ruling priests as corrupt and the Temple cult as polluted. This reflects a sectarian Jewish perspective that was active during and before Jesus’ lifetime.

Rabbinic/Talmudic traditions (preserving 1st-century and earlier memories -Tannaitic and Amoraic periods) echo strong criticism of the Second Temple priestly aristocracy. They describe the high priests as wealthy, nepotistic, greedy, and violent toward lower priests and the people. A famous passage (b. Pesahim 57a) laments: “Woe is me because of the house of Boethus… woe is me because of their staves!… For they are High Priests… and their servants beat the people with staves.” Other texts note bribery to obtain the high priesthood, rapid turnover due to corruption, and oppression of the poor. While compiled after 70 CE, these reflect widespread popular and Pharisaic-era memories of the pre-destruction period.

The elite were often wealthy landowners and Temple administrators who collaborated with Roman/Herodian authorities. The high priesthood, once hereditary and lifelong, had become a Roman-appointed office frequently awarded to the highest bidder. This fueled resentment among common Jews (“people of the land”) and lower clergy.

Sadducees (often overlapping with the priestly elite) were criticized by Pharisees and Essenes for rejecting oral traditions and resurrection, but the main grievances were ethical and practical (greed, violence, collaboration). Many ordinary Jews still revered the Temple and priesthood as institutions even while decrying specific leaders.

In short, while the Jewish elite were not universally despised, there was widespread, vocal criticism from multiple Jewish quarters—sectarian (Essenes), historiographic (Josephus), and popular/rabbinic—of their corruption, greed, and abuses. This tension was part of the broader unrest in 1st-century Judea that contributed to later events like the Jewish Revolt (66–70 CE). Jesus’ own criticisms of the Temple authorities (e.g., “den of thieves”) fit within this existing intra-Jewish discourse rather than inventing them. 

The bible also accuses the Jews of killing their prophets.  The Bible explicitly accuses the Jews (or more precisely, Jerusalem as the representative of the Jewish people, their leaders, and their ancestors) of killing their prophets in multiple passages, primarily in the New Testament but also in the Old Testament.

These statements are presented as part of a recurring historical pattern: God sends prophets as messengers, and the people (or their leaders) reject, persecute, and kill them. This theme frames the rejection of Jesus himself as the culmination of that pattern.  For example, Matthew 23:37 (Jesus speaking; parallel in Luke 13:34)

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

This comes right after Jesus’ strong denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees in Matthew 23:29-36, where he calls them “sons of those who murdered the prophets” and says their generation will bear the guilt for “all the righteous blood shed on earth.” Jerusalem here stands for the Jewish capital and its religious establishment.

Similarly, Acts 7:52 (Stephen’s speech before the Sanhedrin)

“Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who announced beforehand the coming of the Righteous One, whom you have now betrayed and murdered.”  

Stephen (a Jewish Christian) is addressing the Jewish council in Jerusalem, drawing a direct line from their ancestors’ treatment of the prophets to their rejection of Jesus.

Likewise,1 Thessalonians 2:15 (Paul writing about opposition to the early church)

“…who killed both the Lord Jesus and the prophets, and drove us out…” (or in some translations: “who both killed the Lord Jesus and their own prophets”).

Paul refers here to certain Jewish opponents in Judea who persecuted the Thessalonian Christians, linking it to the killing of Jesus and the prophets.

Also, Nehemiah 9:26 (Old Testament – national confession of Israel’s sins)

“But they were disobedient and rebelled against you and cast your law behind their backs and killed your prophets, who had warned them in order to turn them back to you…”

This is part of a prayer of repentance by the returned exiles, openly acknowledging that earlier generations of Israelites had killed God’s prophets.

These verses are not isolated; they reflect a broader biblical motif (seen also in 2 Chronicles 24:20-21, Jeremiah’s experiences, etc.) that the people of Israel repeatedly rejected God’s prophets. In the New Testament context, this accusation is used to explain why many Jewish leaders opposed Jesus and the early church, while emphasizing that it fulfills a long-standing pattern rather than inventing a new charge. Modern readers and scholars often note that the language (e.g., “the Jews” in 1 Thessalonians or “Jerusalem” in the Gospels) refers to specific leaders or groups in the 1st century, not a blanket condemnation of all Jewish people across time.

Was God envisioned as sending punishments to the Jews for their disobedience, e.g. the Babylonians destroying the first Jewish temple?  Yes. In the Hebrew Bible (what Christians call the Old Testament), God is explicitly and repeatedly portrayed as sending punishments—including military defeats, invasions, exiles, and the destruction of the Temple—directly because of the Israelites’ (later called Jews’) collective disobedience, idolatry, covenant-breaking, and failure to heed the prophets. This is a central theological theme, especially in the “Deuteronomistic history” (Deuteronomy through 2 Kings) and the prophetic books. The Babylonian destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE is one of the clearest and most emphatic examples.

There is the Babylonian destruction of the First Temple as divine punishment.  The biblical authors present the event not as random historical tragedy or Babylonian power politics alone, but as God deliberately using King Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonian army as instruments of judgment. Key passages include:

2 Chronicles 36:15–21 (written after the exile, summarizing the reason for the catastrophe):

“The Lord, the God of their ancestors, sent word to them through his messengers again and again, because he had pity on his people and on his dwelling place. But they mocked God’s messengers, despised his words and scoffed at his prophets until the wrath of the Lord was aroused against his people and there was no remedy. He brought up against them the king of the Babylonians…”

The text then describes the burning of the Temple, the looting of its treasures, the slaughter of the people, and the exile to Babylon—all as God’s direct response to their sins.

Jeremiah 25:1–14 (Jeremiah prophesying before the destruction, c. 605–586 BCE):  God declares that because the people “did not listen” and continued in idolatry and injustice,

“I will summon all the peoples of the north and my servant Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon… and I will bring them against this land and its inhabitants… This whole country will become a desolate wasteland, and these nations will serve the king of Babylon seventy years.”

(Jeremiah repeats this theme throughout his book; see also Jeremiah 52, which narrates the actual fall of Jerusalem and the Temple.)

2 Kings 24:1–20 and 25:1–21 (the historical account):

The kings and people of Judah are condemned for doing “evil in the eyes of the Lord,” following the sins of their ancestors. The Babylonian invasions and Temple destruction follow immediately as the consequence.

Ezekiel 8–11, 16, 23 (Ezekiel, a priest in exile, explaining the same events):

God shows the prophet the “abominations” (idolatry, violence, injustice) happening inside the Temple itself, then declares that His glory will leave the Temple and that the city will be destroyed because of the people’s sin.

This is not an isolated incident. The same pattern appears throughout the Bible: 

Deuteronomy 28 (the covenant curses, foundational to the whole theology): If Israel disobeys, God warns that He will bring foreign armies, sieges, exile, and devastation—“The Lord will cause you to be defeated before your enemies… You will become an object of horror… because you did not obey the Lord your God.”

Other examples: Assyrian destruction of the northern kingdom of Israel (722 BCE) is likewise blamed on idolatry and disobedience (2 Kings 17); earlier invasions and famines are repeatedly tied to sin.

The prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Amos, Hosea, etc.) function as God’s warning voices: “Repent or face punishment.” When punishment comes, they interpret it as God’s righteous judgment, not His abandonment.

After the exile, the return under Cyrus (Ezra–Nehemiah) is presented as God’s mercy once the people have been punished sufficiently and shown repentance.

Later Jewish tradition (Talmud, midrash, medieval commentators such as Rashi) continues this interpretation: the destructions of both Temples (586 BCE and 70 CE) are attributed to specific national sins (e.g., idolatry for the First, baseless hatred for the Second).

In short, the Bible does not portray these catastrophes as mere political or military accidents. It envisions God as sovereignly orchestrating them as measured, covenantal punishments to call His people back to faithfulness. This theological lens is consistent from the Torah through the Prophets and Writings.

Hamilton shows how satirical the Jewish trial of Jesus is by laying on infraction after infraction of Jewish custom during the trial (e.g., meeting on Passover Eve, etc), while the sophist experts in the law find loophole after loophole:

1. However, the Synoptic chronology is not impossible, for as [Josef] Blinzler says, the prohibition of legal proceedings on feast days was less strictly enforced than that of holding courts on the Sabbath, ‘therefore it is quite thinkable that it did not seem to the Sanhedrists an infringement of an important rule to start a legal trial even on the night of the Pesach’. It is the argument of this article that all the Gospels witness to such a trial which, while viable in its date, contravened accepted practice as subsequently enshrined in the Mishnah at many points, as Blinzler shows. For example, the proceedings took place in the house of Caiaphas, not in the Temple, and though Jesus had not actually pronounced the Name of God, he was condemned as a blasphemer. He was not offered an advocate; the witnesses were not warned before being examined; nor were they called to account for false witness. The members of the Sanhedrin, although witnesses of the alleged blasphemy, took part in the passing of the sentence, though it was not legal for them to do so… As Blinzler says, one is not able ‘to spare the Sanhedrin the reproach of very serious infringement of the law’. The question is, why did they do this?‘ It will not do to suggest that the occasion was a sham—the proceedings were undoubtedly carried through before a competent bench of judges’. Nor can their contraventions of the Mishnaic code be simply dismissed by saying that it was not yet in force. It is true that it was not codified until about 200 AD, and reflects conditions which obtained then, but it certainly enshrines earlier practice to a considerable extent. For example, Segal says that in describing Temple ritual, it may be employed with confidence. May not the same apply to legal practice?… Before the Feast of the Passover Caiaphas is reported to have said in council: ‘It is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish’ (Jn. 11:50). Expediency was the factor which determined his conduct. When the opportunity unexpectedly presented itself to secure Jesus’ death, he and the priests avidly took it. Spurred on by their hatred of him; persuaded that as he was a false teacher, his execution on a feast day would be appropriate; and pressurized by shortage of time, they held his trial on the paschal night. In this trial they contravened normal legal practice at many points. The fact that they could do this in the legal sphere makes it likely that they could, because of the exceptional circumstances, also contravene ritual practice. For the exigencies of the case demanded that they work through the night. Early next morning therefore, they still had not eaten their paschal meal [emphasis mine]. (Hamilton, 1992, pp. 335-336)
2. Certainly therefore, an execution would have been contrary to the sabbatical nature of the first paschal day. However, Deut. 17: 12-13 prescribes the death penalty for anyone who opposes the decisions of the priests, to be carried out so that ‘all the people shall hear and fear’, and the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 11:4) gives special instructions for the execution of a rebellious teacher: ‘He was kept in guard until one of the three feasts, and he was put to death on one of the three feasts’. This shows that in certain circumstances executions were permitted on feast days. Moreover, [Paul] Billerbeck says that where an example is required ‘to protect the Torah from wilfully severe transgressions, an execution may, as an exception, supersede a feast day’. (Hamilton, 1992, p. 335)

Understanding the argument here requires seeing how remorse operates in certain circumstances.  The problem is God can’t forgive what people don’t realize and acknowledge, since they will simply keep sinning.  It is like seeing oneself in the ancient Roman citizens enjoying the bloodsport of the Arena, though from our point of view we see it as abhorrent, we understand if we were Romans at the time we probably would have cheered along for the spectacle, or for the death of sinless Jesus, or noble Socrates, etc. 

The excess of evil in the death of sinless Jesus calls to the law inconspicuously written on our hearts to demand justice: that society do better.  Imagine kids in a schoolyard enjoying pulling the legs off of Daddy Longlegs’ insects for fun when one of the kid’s moral compasses awakens, their eyes open like Paul for forgiving Stephen.  Or, suppose watching an animal cruelty video while eating a plate of delicious chicken wings, and being shocked into veganism.  Or, imagine the figurative violence being done to LGBTQ+ rights shattering your guiding perspective of the traditional definition of marriage, something that definition can’t appropriate (epekeine tes ousias).  

Jesus was like the angels sent to Lot as a test for the people, who failed the test in trying to rape them.  Most beloved by God (agapetos), sinless Jesus was sent by God to restore the Davidic throne fulfilling the Old Testament covenant promise to David (2 Samuel 7:12–16; Psalm 132:11), but was horribly and humiliatingly tortured and executed in the worst known way possible.  Such Davidic passages include (e.g., Romans 1:3–4; Luke 1:32–33; Matthew 1:1; Luke 3:31–32; Acts 2:29–32; Acts 13:22–23, 32–34; Revelation 5:5; Revelation 22:16).  Jesus is repeatedly called “Son of David” by those seeking the Messiah-King (e.g., the blind men in Matthew 9:27; the crowds at the triumphal entry in Matthew 21:9 — “Hosanna to the Son of David!”).  The disciples themselves expected Jesus to “restore the kingdom to Israel” (Acts 1:6), showing this Davidic-throne expectation was central to early understanding of his mission.  James (in Acts 15:15–17) quotes Amos 9:11 (“I will restore the tent of David that has fallen…”) and applies it to the inclusion of Gentiles through the risen Jesus—indicating the Davidic restoration has begun.  These passages collectively portray Jesus not merely as a spiritual savior but as the rightful Davidic heir whose resurrection and future return will fully restore and establish the eternal throne/kingdom promised to David. The New Testament writers repeatedly emphasize his lineage, titles, and divine oath to show he is the one “meant to restore” it.  It was against this the Jewish elite rejected him and orchestrated his death, and so brought about the destruction of the 2^nd temple by Rome as God’s punishment, and later the expulsion of the Jews from the land following the Bar Kokhba revolt.

NEXT TIME I WILL LOOK AT CAPUTO’S RESPONSE TO SANDERS