Josephus’ account of the Siege of Jerusalem (War, V. 420–572) suggests that the comparisons between the ancient world and twentieth-century Latin American torture practices may be appropriate. Josephus’ description of how the Jewish militants inside Jerusalem tortured the civilian population in the search for food provides a graphic insight into sexual tortures at the time: ‘Terrible were the methods of torture they devised in their quest for food. They stuffed bitter vetch up the genital passages of their victims, and drove sharp stakes into their seats’ (War, V. 435). Although the actual historicity of Josephus’ claims can hardly be taken for granted (since Josephus was writing for a Roman audience and his exaggerations and vested interest in casting the Jewish rebels in a poor light affects his testimony throughout his account), it nonetheless suggests that the sexualized tortures of twentieth-century Latin America might correspond quite closely to their first-century Mediterranean equivalents. Likewise, Plato’s description in the Gorgias of a hypothetical crucifixion (preceded by torture and castration while on the rack) indicates that castration might have taken place prior to crucifixion in at least some parts of the ancient world.29 Furthermore, the historian Richard Trexler has claimed that the anal rape of male captives was ‘a practice notoriously rife in the ancient world’.30 In view of this background it is important to ask whether the fraternal and respectful kiss of greeting in the Garden of Gethsemane might have set events in motion that led to some form of sexual assault in the praetorium of Pilate.31
The privacy of the praetorium makes it unrealistic to expect a definitive answer on what exactly happened inside. Nonetheless, the suspicions raised by the experiences of those who have suffered under recent Latin American regimes suggest that a question mark needs to be put against the completeness of the Gospel narratives at this point. There is a possibility that the full details of Jesus’ suffering are missing from the Gospel accounts. Whereas the texts offer clear indications of sexual humiliation, the possibility of sexual assault can only be based on silence and circumstance. However, it should be remembered that although a distinction in sexual abuse between humiliation and assault is helpful, there can also be considerable overlap between them and the two tend to go together. In sexual torture, sexual assault is a form of sexual humiliation par excellence and sexual humiliation often rests on the threat of physical or sexual assault. What form of sexual assault – if any – might actually have taken place may be impossible to determine but the possibility needs to be recognized and confronted more honestly than has happened so far. To shed light on this, further historical investigation into the treatment of condemned prisoners by Roman soldiers and the treatment of Jesus in particular is obviously required. If this is to happen, however, it is appropriate to pause and ask what positive purpose these lines of enquiry will serve.
Theological and pastoral perspectives
I have found the direction my research has taken me to be very disturbing and I realize that others will feel the same way. I believe, however, that for Christians today these issues might serve constructive purposes in the theological and pastoral fields. Both our resistance and our openness to this line of enquiry might lead to insights and discoveries.
First, at a theological level, confronting the possibility of sexual abuse in the passion of Christ might deepen Christian understanding of God’s solidarity with the powerless. Sexual abuse is a destructive assertion of power. It shows the degrading consequences that distorted power can generate in human society. An important element in Christian doctrine has been that Jesus confronted the power of evil and suffered death on the cross as a result. The views presented here – that Jesus was a victim of sexual abuse in the sexual humiliation he underwent and he may even have been a victim of sexual assault – are deeply distressing. They may, however, offer insights into a fuller Christian understanding of a God who is in real solidarity with the powerless and suffers the worst evils of the world. An a priori judgement that Jesus did not and could not suffer sexual abuse may accompany an unexamined assumption that Jesus was not in fact fully human, a form of the Docetic heresy which denies the real form of Jesus’ physical suffering. Refusal to accept that Jesus could have been sexually abused suggests a refusal to accept Christ’s full incarnation into human history. To say that Jesus could not have been vulnerable to the worst abuses of human power is to deny that he was truly human at all.
At the pastoral level, confronting the possibility of sexual abuse in the passion of Christ could provide practical help to contemporary victims of torture and sexual abuse. Recognition of sexual abuse in the treatment of Jesus could bring a liberating and healing message to the women, children and men of Latin America, and elsewhere, who have also been abused. The acceptance that even Jesus may have suffered evil in this way can give new dignity and self-respect to those who continue to struggle with the stigma and other consequences of sexual abuse. A God who through Christ is to be identified with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned (Matt. 25.31–46) is also to be identified with those suffering abuse and torture in the contemporary world.
Conclusion
Despite the potential pitfalls, the dynamics of state terror in Latin America and other countries can be a fruitful starting point for insights into the Gospels. An awareness of human rights abuses in Latin America can yield important insights into the political context and full horror of Jesus’ crucifixion. The role of crucifixions in the production and maintenance of state terror and the element of sexual abuse in Roman practices require further investigation. The Gospels indicate a high level of public sexual humiliation in the treatment of Jesus and the closed walls of the praetorium present a disturbing question about what else might have happened inside.
References
Archdiocese of Sao Paulo, Torture in Brazil: A Report by the Archdiocese of São Paulo, New York: Vintage Books, 1986.
Boff, Clodovis, Theology and Praxis: Epistemological Foundations, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1987.
Brown, Raymond E., Death of the Messiah, New York: Doubleday, 1994.
Corradi, Juan E., Patricia W. Fagen and Manuel A. Garretón, eds, Fear at the Edge: State Terror and Resistance in Latin America, Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1992.
Graziano, Francisco, Divine Violence: Spectacle, Psychosexuality, and Radical Christianity in the Argentine ‘Dirty War’, Oxford: Westview Press, 1992.
Hengel, Martin, Crucifixion in the Ancient World and the Folly of the Cross, Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press; London: SCM Press, 1977.
Josephus, The Jewish War, trans. G. A. Willon, revised ed., Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1970.
Moore, Stephen D., God’s Gym: Divine Male Bodies of the Bible, New York: Routledge, 1996.
National Commission on Disappeared People, Nunca Más: A Report by Argentina’s National Commission on Disappeared People, Boston, MA, and London: Faber and Faber, 1986.
National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation, Report of the Chilean National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation, Notre Dame, IN: Centre for Civil and Human Rights, Notre Dame Law School, 1993.
Scarry, Elaine, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985.
Segovia, Fernando F., ‘Jesus as Victim of State Terror: A Critical Reflection Twenty Years Later’, in Crucifixion, State Terror, and Sexual Abuse: Text and Context, ed. David Tombs, Dunedin: Centre for Theology and Public Issues, University of Otago, 2018;