Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4

The final Servant Song ends with a look ahead to the long-term consequences of the Servant’s work (Is 53.10-12). These consequences are two: the satisfaction of the sin debt, and the deliverance of the sinners.

Isaiah states the first consequence in a surprising way: “it pleased the Lord to bruise him” (Is 53.10). Surprising is too soft a word; this is shocking, repugnant. Why would God be pleased to injure his righteous Servant? What is he, some kind of sadist?

No.

Sadism is by definition a pathology, a deviation from truth and goodness and justice. It is the opposite of the character of God. I think there are two factors that refute the charge. First, Isaiah has already filled this Song, as well as the three others, with irony and consequent astonishment and wonder. It is certainly ironic that a good God would allow a righteous Servant to be abused in such a way. Why would he do that? How does this make sense? What’s going on here, anyway?

So this statement is a continuation of the theme of irony, the fact that we, and the prophet himself, are having difficulty making sense of a plan that is beyond our information and comprehension. We are seeing the work of someone far beyond us.

The second factor is the nature of God himself. He knows things that we don’t, and he, being unbound by time and space, plans things for eternal and infinite outcomes. He knows what he’s doing, and he does all things well.

Don’t believe that? You are free not to, of course. But your distrust says far more about you than it does about God.

So, back to our text.

What is happening to the Servant, who, despite his own questions, trusts God, is something that God, with his knowledge and understanding, takes delight in, because of what it’s accomplishing, as well as what it’s revealing about both him and his Servant. Justice—God’s justice—will be satisfied, as the Servant bears the sin of many.

The second consequence, the deliverance of sinners, is stated in several ways. The Servant “shall see his seed.” As we noted in the previous post, there’s a translation question back in verse 8. The KJV renders a clause there as “Who shall declare his generation?” If that’s the better rendering, then this clause answers that one. The Servant will indeed have offspring, millions of descendants, to whom he as a sort of spiritual father has given life. He shall see his seed. He shall justify many, delivering them from death, both physical and spiritual.

Like a victor claiming the spoils of a defeated enemy, he will be enriched by a generation of those whose sins he has borne, for whom he has interceded.

And that is why the all-seeing, all-knowing God delights in his Servant’s admittedly gruesome work. It is parallel to what we, his people, are called to do: suffer for a while, bearing a relatively light burden, for eternal values: grace, mercy, and peace, to the ages of the ages.

We servants have such a Servant as our deliverer. His faithfulness enables our fruitfulness.

This Servant is indeed one who sets justice in the earth, a covenant of the people, a light to the Gentiles. He is one who brings out the prisoners from the prison, and those who sit in darkness out of the prison house. One who glorifies God and is made glorious by him, who is his salvation unto the ends of the earth.

We shall not hunger or thirst, nor shall the heat or sun smite us; for he who has mercy on us shall lead us, even by springs of water.

Mountains will become highways, for the Lord has comforted his people and has had mercy on his afflicted.

Hallelujah.

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Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3

The fourth section of this final Servant Song (Is 53.7-9) zooms in to allow us to see more specifically how the Servant is taking our place. Verse 7 describes his trial; verse 8, his death; and verse 9, his burial.

The trial is not pleasant. We’re told that he was “oppressed” and “afflicted.” The former word is used of the way the Egyptians treated the Israelite slaves in Egypt (Ex 3.7; 5.6, 10, 13) and King Jehoiakim’s oppression of Israel to get tribute money to pay to Egypt (2K 23.35). The latter word is also used of Israel’s slavery in Egypt (Ge 15.13; Ex 1.11-12; Dt 26.6); of Sarai’s treatment of Hagar after she became pregnant with Abram’s child (Ge 16.6); and of rape (Jdg 19.24, 20.5; 2S 13.12, 14, 22, 32; Lam 5.11).

Further, “he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter.” This is a show trial, a star chamber; the outcome has already been decided, and there is no justice to be had.

But the prophet’s surprise re-emerges. How would you or I respond under these circumstances? Would we protest the injustice? Call for divine judgment? Curse the unfairness of it all?

Not the Servant. He doesn’t even open his mouth—and the prophet states that fact twice, for emphasis.

He just takes it.

Now the prophet laments the life cut short by the execution (Is 53.8). After the sham trial—”apart from justice”— he is taken away.

The KJV differs from the modern translations in the next clause. The familiar phrasing is, “Who shall declare his generation?” This sounds like a lament that he will never have any children. But the Hebrew is ambiguous here (for you Hebrew nerds, the question is whether the אֶת is preceding an accusative of direct object or of reference; see BDB or HALOT), and most modern translators prefer “As for his generation, who shall consider?” That is, no one understood what was really happening here—specifically, that “he was cut off … for the transgression of my people.” They’ve all missed the point of the previous section: the vicarious nature of his death.

After the execution—being “cut off out of the land of the living”—comes the tomb (Is 53.9). “He made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich.” I observe here that no one, including Isaiah himself, could possibly have made any sense out of that statement; in Hebrew culture, the wicked and the rich are never buried together, or even under similar conditions. The wicked—executed criminals—are tossed out with the trash, as food for the vultures, as is befitting their condemnation (cf Pr 30.17); but the rich, oh, they’re treated very differently. They’re buried in rock tombs, well protected from scavenging beasts, and well marked as a memorial for their descendants.

How could the Servant experience both?

Looking back, after this prophecy’s fulfillment, we see the outcome perfectly clearly and with no confusion—two thieves, Joseph of Arimathea, and all that. But even with the prophecy in hand, no one in Isaiah’s day could have predicted the actual outcome. I’ve written on that at more length elsewhere.

But the prophet is directed by the Spirit, and despite his very likely confusion, he predicts the truth: he will be buried “with the rich … because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.”

Again, the Servant is not Isaiah, and he is not Israel.

But he is good, and he is utterly undeserving of the death he will die.

Yet …

Next time.

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Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1 | Song 4, Part 2

The middle section of Song 4 (Is 53.4-6) answers the previous section by explaining why this special envoy from God is in such dire straits—despised and rejected by men (Is 53.3). It is not because of anything he has done to deserve such treatment. On the contrary, he is taking the penalty for our sins.

Sin has consequences. God has designed the universe in such a way as to encourage us to behave ourselves and thereby “live a quiet and peaceable life” (1Ti 2.2). (Yes, I know I’ve taken that phrase out of its Pastoral context, but I think I can make a case that it’s accurate in this context as well.)

If we’ll obey God’s commandments, the natural order of things will work in our favor. If we’ll love our neighbors, genuinely, they’re likely to treat us better than if we act abusively toward them. If we’ll be diligent in our work, our physical needs are more likely to be supplied. If we’ll give ourselves to wisdom by looking right before we step off a curb in London, we’ll be less likely to get clobbered by one of those double-decker buses.

But if we ignore God’s commandments, things turn out very differently. If we get drunk with wine, we’re likely to do things we’ll regret later, even if we don’t remember them—and there’s the deep ditch of alcoholism ready to take us off the highway permanently. If we choose a promiscuous lifestyle, there are sexually transmitted diseases waiting for us, as well as unwanted pregnancies and irretrievably broken hearts in the people who love us most.

So yes, sin has consequences. And since we all sin, we all face them. Here Isaiah names just two of them: griefs and sorrows (Is 53.4). And, he says, the Servant takes that weighty load upon himself.

And then the prophet returns to the incredulity of his earlier observations. In our judgment, he says, the prophet is doing no such thing; we figure he’s just in trouble with God for something. We’re like the disciples, who asked Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (Jn 9.2).

Look at him! He must have done something!

But no. His wounding, his bruising, is the punishment for our transgressions, our impingement on forbidden ground, our ignoring the “No Trespassing” sign (Is 53.5).

He’ll say more about that in a moment, but for now he revisits the disbelief he demonstrated earlier. The beating he’s taking is going to deliver us! It’s going to bring us peace; it’s going to bring us healing. Not only do we not suffer the well-deserved consequences of our sin, but after this we’re going to be different people. We’re going to be healed of the sickness (Je 17.9) that got us into this mess in the first place.

It’s interesting to me that at the nadir of this Song, the place where the darkness is the deepest, Isaiah is still wonderstruck with the unimaginable good that the Servant is accomplishing. The light does indeed shine in darkness, and it can’t be overcome.

At the end of this section Isaiah revisits our transgressions and iniquities. How extensive is the problem? How much does the Servant have to deal with?

It’s as pervasive, as extensive, as it can possibly be. All of us have gone astray (Is 53.6); every one has turned to his own way; and now the burden he carries is the sin of us all.

Every sin. Every person. For all time.

What a burden.

And yet, what a deliverance! All of it is carried by the Servant. That means that all can face the possibility of being delivered.

Isaiah isn’t going to spell all that out for us; we need further revelation to shine light on what is here just an implication. But we do not lack that light.

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Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 | Song 4, Part 1

The second section of Song 4 (Is 53.1-3) begins with the famous line “Who hath believed our report?”—which is to say, “What I’m about to tell you sounds unbelievable, I admit, but it’s true.”

We tend to imagine the display of God’s power as being flashy, and sometimes it is. Sometimes there’s thunder and lightning, and sometimes there are earthquakes, and sometimes Mount Saint Helens explodes into a devastating pyroclastic flow with a deafening roar. Sometimes the fountains of the great deep are broken up, and water covers the whole earth, and the Himalayas are thrust up to deoxygenated elevations.

God can do that.

But sometimes he speaks with a still, small voice. Sometimes the decayed acorn yields a tiny sprout that grows into a mighty oak whose roots split boulders, but silently and over decades.

Sometimes—no, most of the time—when God is working, hardly anybody notices.

And Isaiah, wonder in his voice, speaks of a time when God will show his power—reveal his mighty arm (Is 53.1)—through somebody who doesn’t look at all like what everybody’s expecting.

He’s just a tiny sprout, a root out of a dry ground (Is 53.2).

Dry ground isn’t supposed to sprout. But it will.

Earlier Isaiah has used a similar metaphor for this unbelievable development. He has spoken of “a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a branch … out of his roots” (Is 11.1), “a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign of the people” (Is 11.10). There’s this old tree stump, see, that was cut down long ago, dry and visibly dead. And out of the middle of it will emerge a little green shoot: there was life in the old stump!

In his book Isaiah predicts that the kings of his day will be overturned, and their lines will end. That happens to Israel, the Northern Kingdom, in 722 BC when Assyria takes their leaders into exile, and to Judah, the Southern Kingdom, in 586 BC, when Babylon destroys Jerusalem, including the Temple, and takes its leadership captive as well. There’s eventually a return, but Judah has no king but Cyrus.

And then, for four centuries, God becomes mute. The heavens are silent. A series of foreigners rule the land—Persians, then Greeks, then Ptolemies, then Seleucids. And then Hasmoneans, who are Jews, but nowhere near competent or godly. And then, Romans.

But in the days of Caesar Augustus, when Cyrenius was governor of Syria, there was a carpenter or stonemason in Nazareth—can anything good come out of Nazareth?—who adopted the virgin-born (yes, miraculously virgin-born, but very quietly so) son of his fiancée and in so doing set in motion the renewal of the stump of Jesse, which had been cut off.

This boy grows up. As an adult he tells his home-town crowd who he really is, and nobody believes him. “Is not this the carpenter’s son?” (Mt 13.55). “He hath no form nor comeliness” (Is 53.2).

And it gets even more unbelievable. “He is despised and rejected of men” (Is 53.3); the religious leaders, the most knowledgeable and respected men of our people, say he breaks the Law of Moses, and they have him arrested, and they beat him, and they turn him over to the Romans for execution.

There’s nothing about him to find admirable; in fact, as he is led out to execution, he is shockingly disfigured, grotesque, too horrible even to look at. (Remember Servant Song 3?)

Who would believe it?

Next time: Why?

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Introduction | Song 1, Part 1 | Song 1, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 1 | Song 2, Part 2 | Song 2, Part 3 | Song 3 |

The fourth Servant Song is the one everybody knows about, and I expect it would still be even if Handel hadn’t included so much of it in his oratorio Messiah. We teach verse 6 to all the children in Sunday school, and we hear much of the Song read at Christmas time and at Easter.

This is the longest of the Songs and is very much a climax to all that we have seen in the earlier ones. It is probably the clearest statement of the vicarious atonement in all the Old Testament; of course the Mosaic sacrificial system testifies to that, but it doesn’t speak directly of a final, perfect sacrifice as this passage does.

One peculiarity of this Song is its grammatical instability. There are constant shifts among past, present, and future tenses (Is 52.13-15; 53.2-3, 7, 10) and second and third persons (Is 52.14; 53.10). We can only speculate on the reason for this; it seems to me to indicate an extreme emotional state in the writer, a constant change of perspective perhaps indicating the apparent chaos of what he’s seeing and describing.

I suppose some people think the Song consists of just chapter 53, but it actually begins with the last paragraph of chapter 52, where verse 13 names the Servant directly. The Song consists of 5 sections (it’s too much to call them stanzas) of 3 verses each. The initial paragraph contrasts the Servant’s unimpressive early appearance with that which will eventually be revealed. The first three verses of chapter 53 focus more closely on the Servant’s humble appearance, while verses 4 through 6 speak of our sin, for which he is the substitute sacrifice. Verses 7 through 9 describe the sequence of his suffering, and the final three verses address God’s motivation in planning and directing the event.

Isaiah 52.13-15 is something of an umbrella section, summarizing all that is to follow. The Servant is introduced with honor, as one who “shall deal prudently” and who “shall be exalted and extolled, and be very high” (Is 52.13). So Isaiah begins with the end in mind.

But immediately he turns to the irony of the situation: the Servant appears in such a humble condition that “many were astonished at thee” (Is 52.14) due to the brutality that has been imposed on him; his face and his body are damaged beyond anything previously seen. While this might be hyperbole, it might not be, either.

Yet this graphic disfiguration is not accidental or without purpose; this is the very means by which “he shall sprinkle many nations” (Is 52.15). This phrasing may well puzzle the modern reader, but Isaiah’s hearers would instantly grasp its meaning. The sprinkling of blood was an inherent part of the Mosaic sacrificial system; in an ordinary sacrifice the priest would sprinkle the blood of the sacrificed animal on the sides of the altar (e.g. Le 1.5, 11), and on the annual Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) the high priest would enter the Holy of Holies and sprinkle the blood of a bull and a goat upon the Mercy Seat, the solid gold covering of the Ark of the Covenant (Le 16.14-16). This was Israel’s holiest day, and the sprinkling was that day’s holiest act.

And now the Servant will extend this sprinkling, this cleansing, this forgiveness, far beyond the Temple to extend over “many nations.” This of course echoes statements in the earlier Songs (Is 42.1, 4, 6; 49.1, 6, 12) that the farthest nations of the earth will come under the umbrella of his salvation.

And the result will be that kings will be awed to silence by his presence and his work. Again this repeats an earlier theme (Is 49.7). Their awe will spring from the fact that this One is like no one or nothing they have ever seen before.

The next three sections of this Fourth Song, all of which are more familiar to us, will expand on these ideas. We’ll get to the second section next time.

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