The Mocking That Reveals the Mocked

Thirteen times this verb echoes through the New Testament, and each occurrence carries the weight of heaven's grief. The word empaízō — to play at someone's expense, to make sport of a soul — appears first at the feet of the Son of Man, when the chief priests and scribes deliver Him to the Gentiles “to be mocked and flogged and crucified” (Matthew 20:19). This is no mere jeering. This is the cosmic game of fools who do not know whom they scorn. The action of mocking, in the Greek world, once belonged to the theater — a light thing, a comedy. But here, the Holy Spirit takes this common verb and presses it into the service of the most solemn event in history: the derision of the Creator by His creatures.

The Play of Cruelty

Consider the etymology, for every word carries a memory. Empaízō is built from the preposition en — “in” or “upon” — and the verb paízō, which means “to play as a child.” The classical Greeks used paízō for the innocent dance of children, the skipping of lambs, the laughter of a festival. But when the prefix en is added, the play becomes invasive, intentional, cruel. It is play upon another. The rabbis of old observed that the tongue can be a weapon sharper than any sword, and here the weapon is wielded by soldiers who dress a King in purple and press thorns upon His brow. The mockery is a perversion of play — the joy of Eden twisted into the sport of Golgotha.

The Passive Voice of the Suffering Servant

In the Greek text of Mark 10:34, the verb appears in the future passive: “He will be mocked.” The passive voice here is not merely grammatical — it is theological. The Son of God does not mock; He receives mockery. He does not act; He is acted upon. This is the mystery of the Incarnation: that the One who holds all power submits to the powerless posture of the victim. The early church understood this as the fulfillment of the Septuagint’s translation of Psalm 22:7, where the Hebrew la'ag — “they mock” — becomes the Greek ekmuktērizō, a cousin to empaízō. David’s psalm of dereliction becomes the script of the Messiah. The passive voice teaches you that salvation is not something you achieve; it is something you endure, as He endured the mockery for your sake.

The Soldiers’ Game and the King’s Crown

No New Testament narrative captures empaízō with greater vividness than the Praetorium scene in Matthew 27:27-31. The whole cohort gathers around Him. They strip Him. They put a scarlet robe on His shoulders. They weave a crown of thorns and press it into His scalp. They place a reed in His right hand as a scepter. Then they kneel before Him and cry, “Hail, King of the Jews!” — and they spit on Him, and take the reed, and strike His head. The verb empaízō appears twice in this passage (verse 29 and verse 31), forming the brackets around their cruel liturgy. The irony is unbearable: they mock a King who is truly King, they play at a coronation that is actually cosmic. The soldiers thought they were performing a farce; heaven saw a mystery. The fathers of the faith observed that every gesture of mockery was a distorted prophecy — the robe spoke of His royal nature, the crown of thorns of the curse He bore, the reed of the scepter by which He rules the nations.

The Septuagint Bridge: From Laughter to Tears

When the Greek translators of the Hebrew Scriptures encountered the word la'ag — “to mock, to deride” — they often rendered it with empaízō or its cognates. In the Septuagint of 2 Chronicles 30:10, the couriers of King Hezekiah go from city to city calling Israel to the Passover, and the people “mock” them — enepaizon — and laugh at them. That same word appears when the sons of Eli mock the offerings of the Lord (1 Samuel 2:17, in the Greek idiom). The bridge is clear: mocking is not merely rudeness; it is a rejection of the holy call. When the people of Jerusalem mocked the prophets, they were mocking the God who sent them. And when the soldiers mocked Yeshua, they were mocking the very Word through whom all things were made. The Hebrew la'ag carries the sound of stammering, of babbling — as if mockery is the language of those who have forgotten how to speak to God.

The Apostolic Witness: Mocking as the World’s Religion

The apostle Paul uses empaízō only once, and it is in a warning that cuts to the bone: “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked” (Galatians 6:7). Here the verb appears in the present middle voice — mukterizetai in some manuscripts — but the sense is identical. The middle voice suggests a reflexive action: to mock God is to mock oneself. The apostolic tradition teaches that the world’s mockery of righteousness is a form of spiritual suicide. Clement of Rome, writing in the first century, echoes this when he warns the Corinthians not to “mock” the commandments of the Lord, for the Lord will not be mocked. The early church understood that persecution often takes the form of ridicule — the sharpest weapon against faith is not the sword but the sneer. Yet they also knew that the mockery of the world is the badge of the true disciple. As the Master was mocked, so the servant will be mocked.

The Mocked One Who Mocks the Mockers

There is a strange and beautiful reversal in the Psalms. Psalm 2:4 declares that “He who sits in the heavens laughs; the Lord holds them in derision.” The Greek of this verse uses ekmuktērizō, the same root as empaízō. God mocks the mockers. But this divine mockery is not cruel sport — it is the laughter of absolute sovereignty. The kings of the earth take their stand against the Lord and His Anointed, and God simply laughs. The rabbis of old taught that God’s laughter is the sound of human pretension collapsing into nothing. Yeshua Himself, on the night of His betrayal, said nothing when they mocked Him. But the day is coming when every knee will bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord. Then the mockers will see the face of the One they scorned, and their laughter will turn to silence. The apostolic faith holds that the mockery of the cross is the prelude to the glory of the throne.

Your Call to Stand in the Fool’s Place

You, beloved reader, live in a world that still mocks. The world will mock your faith as a crutch, your hope as a fantasy, your love as weakness. The soldiers still gather in every generation, weaving crowns of thorns for those who follow the Lamb. But you are called not to mock in return, nor to retreat in shame. You are called to stand where He stood — silent before the accusers, patient under the scorn, knowing that the mockery of men is the echo of heaven’s laughter. When you are mocked for the name of Yeshua, you are not suffering a tragedy; you are participating in a mystery. The early church called this “the fellowship of His sufferings.” Let the mockers play their games; you have a kingdom that cannot be shaken. And on that day when the King returns, the mockery will end, and the play of the children of God will begin — a dance of joy that never grows cruel, a laughter that never wounds. Enter that dance now, by faith, and let the world’s mockery be for you the music of the age to come.