One can argue that the Greco-Roman structure under which Jesus was crucified aligns with Slavoj Žižek’s conceptualisation of violence² and provides a compelling lens for understanding crucifixion not only as a physical act but as a product of broader systemic and symbolic violence. Žižek’s framework helps us see beyond the crucifixion as merely subjective violence – the visible, physical act of execution – and contextualise it within the Roman Empire’s broader political, social and economic systems. The crucifixion of Jesus represents subjective violence in its most brutal form, an overt act of punishment meant to suppress dissent and maintain Roman authority. However, this act cannot be understood in isolation. It was embedded within systemic violence, the larger structures of Roman imperialism, which maintained control through economic exploitation, political oppression and rigid class hierarchies. Roman law, with its brutal methods of punishment like crucifixion, functioned to maintain the power imbalance between the ruling elite and subjugated peoples. In this sense, the violence against Jesus reflects what Žižek (2009:1) identifies as the systemic violence inherent in a political system designed to preserve the status quo of power.

Moreover, Žižek’s idea of symbolic violence – violence embedded in language and ideology – is evident in the ways Roman law and ideology framed Jesus’ execution. During this period, crucifixion was primarily reserved for slaves and rebels, serving not only as a method of execution but also as a means of symbolic degradation (Leblanc 2020:58–78). The Roman Empire used crucifixion to dehumanise individuals publicly, reinforcing social hierarchies and the dominance of Roman authority. Accordingly, Jesus’ crucifixion can be considered a symbolic act of violence because it was meant to convey the Empire’s absolute power and the pointlessness of trying to defy it (Peet 2022). One can contend that the violence surrounding Jesus’ death was a component of a larger system of dominance and control rather than just the product of individual acts using Žižek’s critique. This understanding deepens the interpretation of crucifixion by recognising the structural injustices at play within the Greco-Roman world, much like the systemic and symbolic violence Žižek identifies in modern capitalist societies (Žižek 2008:9–10).

Affixed to a cross, which usually consists of a horizontal beam called the patibulum and a vertical post called the stipes, the condemned person is executed by crucifixion, a term derived from the Latin word ‘crux’. Crucifixion, which is frequently attributed to the Persians, was a cruel and humiliating method of execution that was extensively recorded in ancient sources such as Herodotus and Ctesias (Hengel 1977:22; Geyser-Fouché 2014:5–10).

Initially associated with so-called barbarian groups such as the Indians, Assyrians and Scythians, it later spread to other cultures, including the Celts, Numidians and Carthaginians. The Romans likely adopted it from the Carthaginians. Though not originally Greek, the Greeks also employed crucifixion, which was primarily used for political and military punishment. Among the Romans, it was reserved for the lower classes and rebellious individuals (Hengel 1977). Crucifixion was notorious for its extreme cruelty, designed to inflict maximum pain and shame, sometimes serving as a form of sacrifice or to prevent a victim’s spirit from returning (Ford 1997:61).

Whether victims were crucified alive or posthumously displayed, it was considered the most humiliating form of execution (Van Aarde 2001:168). The condemned were frequently made to carry the patibulum to the execution site, which is renowned as Golgotha or Calvary, meaning ‘Place of the Skull’ (Hengel 1977), after suffering flagellation, a cruel whipping. With a titulus, or sign, above their head to identify their offence – as was the case with Jesus, whose sign read ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews’ (INRI) – the person was either nailed or bound to the cross once they arrived (Cook 2014). The term ‘excruciating’ comes from the agony of crucifixion, which describes the intense pain experienced during this execution, which was a common practice among the Romans (Evans 2001).

The crucifix, which shows Jesus hanging on a cross, is a potent representation of sacrifice and salvation in Christian tradition (Wright 1996). Gaining an understanding of these concepts is crucial to appreciating the theological and historical significance of the crucifixion, especially in light of early Christian narratives and Roman customs (France 2007; Cranfield 1959:445–447; Morris 1992:713–716). Crucifixion was widely viewed negatively by the public because it was thought to be a death that deprived the victim of all dignity in addition to being agonising and degrading. Crucifixion was a sign of the utmost shame and dishonour in Roman society because it was connected to slaves and the lowest echelons of criminals (Cook 2014; Chapman 2008:65). Because the crucifixion method was linked to the curse mentioned in Deuteronomy 21:23 – which states that ‘anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse’ – it carried an additional stigma for Jews (Wright 1996). The deep scandal of the early Christian assertion that Jesus, who was crucified as a common criminal, was the Messiah and the Son of God is highlighted by this cultural and religious background.

This summary highlights important elements and the subtle variations in how Jesus’ crucifixion is portrayed in the Synoptic Gospels; it is not meant to be an exhaustive analysis. Each evangelist’s narrative offers a theologically rich and historically grounded account of the crucifixion (Morris 1992:712–714). To express distinct theological ideas, each author of the gospels highlights a different aspect of the event, even though they all tell the same basic story. Mark’s gospel portrays the crucifixion with striking realism, highlighting Jesus’ suffering and desertion. Mark’s story is characterised by a sense of urgency and desolation, especially in Jesus’ dejected cry, ‘My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?’ (Mk 15:34), a reference to Psalm 22:1 (Cranfield 1959:458; Hooker 1991). This cry draws attention to the extent of Jesus’ suffering and his apparent desertion by God, underscoring the paradox that the crucifixion was both an act of divine will and a time of intense human suffering.

Like Mark’s story, Matthew’s also has extra details that highlight how the Hebrew Scriptures are fulfilled. With frequent allusions to the fulfilment of prophecy, such as the casting of lots for Jesus’ garments (Mt 27:35), which fulfils Psalm 22:18, Matthew portrays the crucifixion as the culmination of Jesus’ messianic mission (France 2007; Morris 1992:713). Additionally, Matthew emphasises the cosmic significance of Jesus’ death by including apocalyptic signs like the tearing of the temple curtain and the resurrection of saints (Mt 27:51–53).

In contrast, Luke’s Gospel emphasises Jesus’ innocence and the extension of grace even in his last moments as it depicts his crucifixion. The words of forgiveness that Jesus spoke from the cross, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’ (Lk 23:34), and his assurance to the thief who repented, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise,’ are both unique to Luke (Green 1997). These components demonstrate Luke’s concern for presenting Jesus as the righteous victim whose death offers redemption and peace, even to those who took part in his execution. The crucifixion is depicted in all three synoptic narratives as a divinely mandated event with significant redemptive significance rather than just as a tragic conclusion to Jesus’ life. According to the evangelists, the crucifixion is both a sign of Roman cruelty and a turning point in the history of salvation, when the suffering of the Messiah satisfies the prophecies of the Hebrew Scriptures and makes peace between God and humanity possible (Evans 2001).

To theologically justify Jesus’ crucifixion and portray it as the accomplishment of God’s divine plan, the Synoptic Gospels mainly refer to the Hebrew Scriptures (e.g. France 2007; Watts 2000). The evangelists used important biblical passages to try to explain the significance of Jesus’ death, establishing their stories in Israel’s sacred traditions (Goulder 1995; Osborne 2006). Three main categories will be used to analyse how the evangelists used the Hebrew Scriptures: (1) the Pentateuch, (2) the Psalter and (3) the Prophets. These classifications will provide an organised method for comprehending how the synoptic authors used various scriptural traditions to explain the significance of the crucifixion.

Deuteronomy 21:22–23 is the most important passage in the Pentateuch that the early Christian writers and the Synoptic Gospels use to explain the crucifixion. This chapter offers a theological and legal framework for comprehending the significance of Jesus’ crucifixion, especially in relation to the ideas of justice and divine curse (Meier 1991:103; Dunn 1989:238; Hays 2005:325; Wright 1996:468).

Paul mentions Jesus’ crucifixion in Galatians 3:13 by using the Greek word ‘ξύλον’ [xylon], which means ‘tree’ or ‘wood’. This phrase is important because it directly links Jesus’ crucifixion to the Old Testament verse found in Deuteronomy 21:23: ‘ἐπικατάρατος πᾶς ὁ κρεµάµενος ἐπὶ ξύλου’ [Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree]. The curse described in the Deuteronomic law, which declared that a person hanging on a tree was under a divine curse, is echoed by Paul’s use of ‘ξύλον’ in Galatians 3:13. Paul highlights that Jesus, by being crucified, took on the curse of the law on behalf of humanity, offering redemption from the curse and completing the theological connection between the cross and the curse of Deuteronomy by quoting this passage from the Septuagint (LXX) (Waltke & Yu 2007:422; Childs 1992:230; Ladd 1993:232; Liedke 2010:88). This illustrates the redemptive power of Christ’s sacrifice by connecting Jesus’ crucifixion to both the actual act of hanging on a cross and the fulfilment of the curse in the Jewish law (Longman 2008:158; Barrick 2014:91; Kasper 2004:54; Moo 1996:149).

The Synoptic Gospels’ depiction of Jesus’ crucifixion is greatly influenced by the Psalms, each of which adds theological nuance to the story. With its royal psalm structure reflecting the experiences of a suffering king, perhaps during a period of crisis or exile, where the king or representative of the Davidic line anticipates divine deliverance, Psalm 22 frames Jesus’ suffering as a fulfilment of prophecy (Craigie 1983:239). This psalm’s political background emphasises the significance of the Davidic monarchy for Israel’s political stability as well as God’s part in the king’s prosperity (Goldingay 2006:214). Jesus’ last remarks are linked to the psalmist’s faith in God in Psalm 31, emphasising the need for divine protection and vulnerability in times of political peril (Zenger 2002:134). The Psalm also speaks to communal suffering, as the psalmist’s plea for deliverance resonates with the collective hope for restoration (Hossfeld & Zenger 2005:158). Psalm 69 reflects themes of mockery and suffering, indicative of political persecution and social marginalisation, aligning with the social dynamics of Jesus’ passion (Brueggemann 1995:188). The Psalm’s plea for divine intervention against oppressive forces highlights the social injustice of the time and the longing for God’s righteousness (Wagner 2004:128). Psalm 110, a royal psalm, underscores Jesus’ messianic authority and eternal priesthood, with its emphasis on the king’s divine backing and the promise of victory over enemies (Van der Ploeg 1991:97). The political context here emphasises the king’s role in maintaining political order, while socially, the psalm reflects the integration of religious and political authority, suggesting a holistic vision of divine justice and order (Bellinger 2006:132). Together, these psalms provide a profound theological context for understanding Jesus’ crucifixion, framing it within Israel’s political, social and religious realities. Early Christians used these texts to interpret Jesus’ suffering and death as the fulfilment of God’s redemptive plan, integrating themes of divine justice, kingship and communal suffering (Kraus 1991:303).

The prophetic writings in the Hebrew Bible played a critical role in early Christian interpretations of Jesus’ life and crucifixion, particularly within the Synoptic Gospels. Isaiah 53:5 (LXX 52:13–53:12), a pivotal text, portrays a suffering servant whose wounds are a means of healing for others, a passage interpreted by early Christians as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ atoning death (Is 53:5, LXX). The Gospel authors align this prophecy with Jesus’ crucifixion, presenting him as the fulfilment of this suffering servant motif (Crossan 1994:112). Also, Jeremiah 23:5-6, which promises the emergence of a righteous king from David’s line, was seen as predictive of Jesus’ messianic role. The passage emphasises justice and peace under the reign of this king, underscoring the redemptive nature of Jesus’ mission, which was viewed as the realisation of divine promises of salvation (Jr 23:5-6, LXX; Dunn 2003:153). Zechariah 9:9, with its imagery of a humble king riding on a donkey, was similarly understood as a prophetic declaration of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, reinforcing his royal and peaceful nature in contrast to expectations of a political deliverer (Zch 9:9, LXX; Hays 2008:74). Moreover, Malachi 3:1, which speaks of a messenger preparing the way for the Lord, was interpreted in the Gospels as referring to John the Baptist, who heralded Jesus’ arrival as the fulfilment of the covenant (Ml 3:1, LXX; Nolland 2005:97). Collectively, these prophetic texts were instrumental in shaping the theological framework within which Jesus’ crucifixion was understood – emphasising themes of suffering, kingship and salvation as integral to the divine plan for redemption (Wright 1996:205).

Paul played a crucial role in reframing the crucifixion in a way that resonated with Gentile audiences. In his letters, Paul emphasises the paradoxical power of the cross, acknowledging its inherent scandal while also proclaiming it as the wisdom and power of God. In 1 Corinthians 1:18–25, Paul writes, ‘For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God’ (1 Cor 1:18). Paul contrasts the wisdom of the world with the ‘foolishness’ of the cross, arguing that God’s plan of salvation, though incomprehensible to human wisdom, reveals a deeper, divine wisdom (Fee 1987).

To make the crucifixion more palatable to Gentile audiences, Paul and other early missionaries employed several strategies. One key approach was to downplay the explicitly Jewish elements of the crucifixion narrative, focussing instead on its universal implications. By framing Jesus as the ‘second Adam’ whose obedience and sacrificial death reversed the disobedience of the first Adam, Paul connected the crucifixion to a broader theological narrative that transcended Jewish particularism (Wright 1992). This shift allowed the message of the crucifixion to be more easily understood and accepted by Gentiles, who could relate to the concept of a cosmic struggle between sin and redemption. Additionally, Paul reinterpreted the notion of strength and weakness considering the crucifixion. In 2 Corinthians 12:9–10, Paul famously declares, ‘when I am weak, then I am strong’ stressing the idea that divine power is made perfect in human weakness. This inversion of conventional values challenged the prevailing Greco-Roman ideals of strength and virtue, offering a new way of understanding the crucifixion as a demonstration of God’s power working through apparent weakness and defeat (Martin 1986).

As Christianity expanded beyond its Jewish roots and began to spread throughout the Gentile world, early Christian thought gradually shifted its focus away from the Hebrew Scriptures, adapting its message to resonate with a broader audience. This shift involved reinterpreting the crucifixion in terms that emphasised its universal significance, rather than its fulfilment of Jewish prophecy. While the Hebrew Scriptures remained important in early Christian theology, there was a growing emphasis on the crucifixion as a cosmic event that had implications for all humanity, regardless of ethnic or religious background. This is evident in Paul’s emphasis on the universal effects of Jesus’ death, such as in Romans 3:23–24, where he writes, ‘for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus’ (Rm 3:23–24). By framing the crucifixion as the means of universal redemption, early Christian missionaries were able to present the message of the cross in a way that was accessible to Gentiles who were unfamiliar with Jewish traditions (Dunn 1998). Moreover, early Christian writers began to develop theological concepts that were less reliant on direct scriptural fulfilment and more focussed on the philosophical and existential dimensions of the crucifixion. For example, the idea of Christus Victor, which portrays Jesus’ death as a victory over the powers of sin and death, offered a compelling narrative that resonated with Gentile audiences familiar with myths of divine heroism and conquest (Aulén 1931). This theological adaptation allowed the message of the crucifixion to be communicated in a way that was both culturally relevant and theologically profound, facilitating the spread of Christianity across diverse regions and cultures.

The Hebrew Scriptures provide several instances where violence is depicted as a means of divine liberation. One of the most prominent examples is the Exodus narrative, where God delivers the Israelites from Egyptian bondage through a series of violent plagues culminating in the death of the firstborns in Egypt (Ex 12:29–30). This act of divine retribution is portrayed as a necessary intervention to break the chains of oppression and bring about the liberation of God’s chosen people (Brueggemann 1997). Similarly, the conquest narratives in the Book of Joshua present the violent subjugation of Canaan as a divinely sanctioned act, where God commands the Israelites to take possession of the land through warfare (Jos 6:20–21). This violence is framed as part of God’s covenantal promise to Israel, where the act of conquest is seen not merely as territorial expansion but as the fulfilment of divine justice and the establishment of a holy community (Cohn 1987).

These narratives raise important theological questions about the nature of divine violence and its role in the biblical tradition. They suggest that in certain contexts, violence is not only permitted but ordained by God as a means of achieving liberation and justice (Gottwald 1999). The depiction of violence as redemptive in the Hebrew Scriptures has been the subject of extensive theological reflection. One key question is whether violence can ever be inherently redemptive, or if its use by God reflects divine justice and retribution rather than an endorsement of violence itself (Seibert 2009). Ethically, the notion of divine violence challenges the idea that God is inherently nonviolent and raises questions about the morality of using violence to achieve divine purposes. Some theologians argue that divine violence in the Hebrew Scriptures should be understood within the context of divine justice, where acts of violence are seen as responses to human sin and injustice (Longman III & Reid 1995). This perspective suggests that violence, in these cases, is a necessary means to restore order and righteousness, rather than an end. However, this interpretation is not without its challenges. The use of violence in the name of divine justice can be problematic when it is used to justify contemporary acts of violence, particularly in religious or political contexts (Wink 1992). The ethical implications of such justifications raise concerns about the potential for violence to be misused under the guise of divine mandate.

Political violence in South Africa has long been intertwined with racial oppression, particularly during the apartheid era. The state institutionalised racial segregation and violence became a tool for maintaining white supremacy and suppressing the black majority. Apartheid-era violence was not only a product of political repression but also a method of entrenching economic and racial disparities. The 1994 democratic transition did not erase the deep-seated inequalities, and South Africa’s political landscape remains shaped by these legacies, which continue to fuel violence (Posel 1991). Racial tensions persist, as South Africa remains one of the most unequal societies in the world. Black South Africans, who make up most of the population, continue to face systemic barriers to economic advancement, education and access to land. These racialised inequalities have resulted in frequent protests, violent clashes and social unrest. Many black South Africans feel excluded from the wealth generated in the post-apartheid era, while a small, mostly white, elite controls significant economic resources (Seekings & Nattrass 2015). As a result, political violence has become an outlet for expressing frustrations over unmet promises of post-apartheid reforms.

South Africa’s extreme economic imbalances are among the most significant contributors to its current crisis of violence. The country suffers from high unemployment rates, especially among the youth, and the wealth gap between the rich and poor remains one of the largest globally (Leibbrandt et al. 2010). These economic disparities are closely linked to the historical injustices of apartheid, where black South Africans were systematically excluded from land ownership, quality education and economic opportunities. Economic violence manifests in various forms, from violent crime and robberies to protests and strikes over wage disputes and poor service delivery. These protests often turn violent, reflecting the deep frustration with the government’s inability to provide for its people. In township areas, the lack of access to basic services such as water, electricity and healthcare has led to numerous service delivery protests, which have become a hallmark of post-apartheid South Africa. In 2019 alone, there were over 200 service delivery protests, many of which escalated into violent confrontations between residents and law enforcement (Alexander, Runciman & Ngwane 2014). The failure of political leadership to address these economic inequalities further entrenches a culture of violence. Corruption, mismanagement and the state’s inability to create inclusive economic growth have undermined confidence in political institutions. For many South Africans, violence appears to be the only way to demand change and hold political leaders accountable.

At the heart of South Africa’s racial and economic tensions is the issue of landlessness. The dispossession of land from black South Africans during colonialism and apartheid is one of the most profound sources of inequality in the country. The 1913 Natives Land Act, for example, limited black land ownership to just 7% of the country’s land and subsequent laws entrenched this dispossession (Solomos 2014). Although the post-apartheid government promised land reform, progress has been slow and land redistribution has not met the expectations of the majority of black South Africans, who remain landless. Landlessness contributes to the crisis of violence in both rural and urban areas. In rural areas, conflicts over land ownership, evictions and farm occupations have often resulted in violent confrontations between landless communities and landowners, many of whom are white farmers. The issue of land reform is highly politicised, with political parties like the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) calling for the expropriation of land without compensation, a policy that has raised concerns about potential violent land seizures (Lahiff 2007). In urban areas, landlessness has led to the proliferation of informal settlements, where millions of South Africans live in inadequate housing without access to basic services. These informal settlements are often the epicentre of violent protests, as residents demand housing and land rights. The government’s failure to address the land issue has resulted in widespread frustration, with land invasions and occupations becoming common as people take matters into their own hands (Hart 2002).

The article’s central argument highlights the intrinsic link between state-sponsored violence and broader systemic forms of oppression, situating the crucifixion of Jesus Christ as a profound example of this phenomenon. The intersection of Roman political authority and Jewish religious sanctioning exemplifies how power structures co-opt religious narratives to legitimise violence, often against marginalised groups (Byron 2019). This confluence of political and religious power is not limited to ancient times, as modern race politics similarly shows that state violence often disproportionately targets marginalised racial groups, with institutional and religious justifications used to defend such actions (Johnson 2021; Stern 2020). Race politics enters this discourse through the lens of ‘othering’ and the marginalisation of certain populations by dominant political and religious forces. Jesus’ identity as an ethnic and political outsider within the Roman Empire plays a key role in understanding how state violence targets racialised individuals and groups, constructing their suffering as justified or necessary for maintaining the status quo (Borg 2015). This dynamic parallels modern race politics, where state and institutional violence disproportionately affects marginalised racial groups (Moore 2020), with legal and religious justifications used to defend such actions (Williams 2019).

The evangelists’ utilisation of Hebrew Scriptures to frame the crucifixion as redemptive serves to address the inherent injustice of Jesus’ execution. In this context, the redemptive framing speaks to a subversion of state violence, where what is perceived as defeat or humiliation (Jesus’ crucifixion) is transformed into spiritual victory (Maston 2020). When translating this narrative for a Gentile audience, unfamiliar with Hebrew traditions, the theological justification shifts focus from scriptural fulfilment to a universal human condition of suffering and redemption (Barkley 2020). Here, racial and ethnic boundaries are transcended through the universalism of Christ’s redemptive act, yet the historical context reminds us that this suffering was deeply tied to Jesus’ socio-political identity (Martens 2021). Thus, race politics in this framework is deeply intertwined with how violence is enacted upon marginalised racial groups, justified by both political and religious narratives, and how such acts are later reframed theologically to offer hope and redemption amid systemic brutality (Smith 2022). This discussion invites reflection on contemporary parallels, where marginalised racial groups continue to experience state-sponsored violence and religious justification for such acts.

Racial tensions, exacerbated by economic inequalities and landlessness, contribute to the prevalence of violence in South Africa. The post-apartheid state has made significant strides in racial reconciliation, but deep divisions remain. Racial tensions are often linked to economic disparities, where race still determines access to wealth, land and opportunities (Seekings & Nattrass 2015). White South Africans, who make up a minority of the population, still control much of the country’s land and capital, while black South Africans continue to bear the brunt of poverty and unemployment. Xenophobia adds another layer to the country’s racial tensions. Many black South Africans view foreign nationals, particularly those from other African countries, as competitors for scarce jobs and resources. Xenophobic violence, which has flared up in waves since 2008, is often directed at African migrants, who are blamed for taking jobs, engaging in criminal activities or being responsible for social ills (Crush 2008). This violence reflects not only racial prejudice but also economic desperation, as poor South Africans compete for limited opportunities in an economy that has failed to deliver inclusive growth. Political leaders have sometimes exacerbated these tensions, either by using anti-immigrant rhetoric or failing to condemn xenophobic attacks forcefully. The lack of accountability and justice for the perpetrators of xenophobic violence has further entrenched a culture of impunity, where violence is seen as an acceptable means of resolving economic and racial grievances (Neocosmos 2010).