For seven years, Jonathan Roumie has carried the weight of the most famous name in history.
As Jesus in The Chosen, the wildly popular streaming series about the life of Christ and his disciples, Roumie has navigated everything from fish-multiplying miracles to agonizing betrayal with a performance that’s been praised for its nuance, compassion and emotional realism. But in Season Five—premiering now in theaters—Roumie finally gets to throw some tables.
“I think clearing the temple was one of the most satisfying scenes to play,” Roumie says, his voice equal parts reverent and thrilled. “It’s Jesus, with a whip, confronting the Pharisees who’ve turned the temple into a mockery. There’s a level of intensity there we just haven’t seen before—not like this.”
For anyone who still thinks The Chosen is just another Sunday school retelling, Roumie’s performance this season is about to shift the narrative. This is a Jesus who gets angry. A Jesus who grieves. A Jesus who plans his own death. And it’s not just theatrics—it’s theology.
When Roumie first stepped into the role back in 2017, he knew the task was monumental. Not just because of the spiritual weight but because of the emotional range he believed the role demanded and hadn’t often seen portrayed.
“There’s a certain range people expect from Jesus,” Roumie says. “But if you believe in both his divinity and his humanity, then he had to experience what we experience—anger, grief, joy, fatigue, anxiety. And so it’s been this gradual expansion of how much of that I get to express on screen. Season Five really opens that up.”
Dallas Jenkins, the show’s creator, has hinted that this season is a turning point thematically and emotionally. That’s by design. With only two seasons remaining, the narrative is rapidly accelerating toward the crucifixion. For Roumie, that trajectory has made every scene more loaded, more layered.
“It’s scary how fast it’s gone,” Roumie admits. “We’ve lived with these characters for years now. But it’s also becoming real that the journey is almost complete. Every choice feels more significant.”
If Roumie sounds more like a theologian than an actor, that’s no accident. His preparation is both spiritual and scholarly, pulling not only from prayer but from ancient texts and Ignatian spirituality—an approach to Scripture that invites believers to place themselves in the scenes of the Bible.
“I think that’s what The Chosen does best,” he says. “It makes Jesus and the disciples feel accessible. Not as icons in stained glass or marble statues but as people. People with complicated emotions and hard decisions. We’ve heard from pastors, rabbis, even cardinals who say the show has helped them imagine the Gospels in a whole new way.”
He references a moment on Cardinal Timothy Dolan’s radio show where the cardinal identified the series as a form of visual Ignatian meditation.
“He told me it gave him a deeper encounter with Jesus,” Roumie recalls. “And I hear that from viewers all the time—how the show has helped them see themselves in the story.”
That perspective is built into the show’s creative process. Roumie says he often starts with Scripture, then layers in historical context. For example, before filming the Last Supper, he read Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist by Brant Pitre, diving into the symbolism of the Seder meal and its connection to Jesus’ final hours.
“It completely changed my understanding of what was happening in that moment,” he says. “The gestures, the bread, the wine—they all have this deep historical and prophetic meaning. Knowing that changed the way I played the scene.”
But if the Last Supper demanded theological depth, the temple-clearing scene in Season Five demanded something else: rage. Or at least, a righteous fury rooted in justice and sorrow. Roumie says that for him, channeling that emotion wasn’t just about performance—it was about prophecy.
“He knew this moment would escalate everything,” Roumie says of Jesus’ confrontation with the temple leaders. “He knew it would be the last straw for the Pharisees. He was setting into motion the final chapter of his life on earth. So it wasn’t just anger—it was calculated, prophetic, heartbreaking.”
And what about the crucifixion itself, still looming in the show’s timeline? Roumie takes a breath.
“A lot of prayer,” he says quietly. “I honestly don’t know how I’ll get through it without divine help. Every season, there’s something I think I can’t do and then grace steps in. I just pray that continues.”
There’s also a physical component. Roumie is meticulous about getting the visual details right—pulling inspiration from paintings, iconography and centuries of sacred art. “I’m very visual,” he says. “I want the gestures, the posture, even the physical condition to reflect something true—not just historically but spiritually.”
That kind of artistic and spiritual precision might be why The Chosen has found an unlikely fanbase among young adults who are skeptical of church but still curious about faith. It’s not preachy. It doesn’t sanitize the struggles of belief. And it doesn’t treat Jesus like a cardboard cutout of perfection. Instead, it lingers in the tension—between divinity and doubt, action and mystery, presence and pain.
“People are surprised when they watch it,” Roumie says. “They tell me, ‘Jesus actually feels real now. He feels human.’ And that’s the whole point. The people in the Gospels were like us—confused, brave, messy, flawed. And Jesus loved them anyway.”
As the series barrels toward its conclusion, Roumie says his goal is simple: stay present, stay prayerful and honor the story.
“This role deserves more than I can probably ever give it,” he says. “But I just try to show up, do the work and let grace do the rest.”
