Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 4: Abundance

April 15, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance

Boaz admires Ruth for seeking refuge under the wings of Israel’s God (Ru 2.12; cf Ps 17.8; 91.4; Mt 23.37). This image is going to show up again in our story.

Boaz blesses Ruth in the name of Yahweh. “The Gentile had sought refuge under the ‘wings’ of Yahweh, and therefore was entitled to his blessing” (OTSS).

It’s lunchtime. Ruth could be expected to have brought food for lunch, or to eat from what she had been able to gather herself. Boaz will have none of it. He invites her to join him and his reapers for their employee meal, prepared at his expense (Ru 2.14). It’s a meal common in the ancient Near East: roasted kernels of the harvested barley and what we would call a vinaigrette—wine vinegar mixed with olive oil. As the account makes clear by the fact that he hands her the grain himself, he had opened a seat for her next to him, or at least within arm’s reach.

Is Boaz setting up a romantic relationship? It’s tempting to (literally) romanticize this account in the interest of making it a “better story” to Western ears, but that kind of interest is unlikely at this point. One commentator says, “The text offers no hint of any romantic attraction between Boaz and Ruth. Given the racial and social barriers that separated them, the thought would not have crossed Ruth’s mind, and she could not have known that he was a kinsman of her deceased husband. As for Boaz, he was simply a good man, ‘sent’ by God to show favor to this woman. The wings of God are not only comforting to Israelites; they offer protection even for despised Moabites” (Block, NAC).

After lunch, Boaz increases his care for her by ordering his workers to actually help her harvest (Ru 2.15, 16). She’s picking in the tall cotton, so to speak, and the workers are actually dropping some of their own gleanings in her path—and doing so at the command of the owner. Boaz is not the stereotypical greedy rich businessman.

It’s likely that these professional harvesters were using a sickle in their right hand to cut a bundle of plants gathered by their left hand. This would be, I suppose, about a cup of kernels once it had been threshed and winnowed. They are keeping her in good supply.

This is astonishing generosity. The Mosaic Law allowed her what the reapers accidentally left behind. But these workers, with the approval—no, the insistence—of the owner, were lavishing product right at her feet. All she had to do was pick it up.

By the end of the day she had “about an ephah” of barley grains (Ru 2.17). Measures of volume in those days were inexact by our standards, and since the text adds “about,” we should expect that the commentators will be all over the place in their estimates. One says it was a bushel (TCBC); another says “nearly three-fifths of a bushel” (ECB); yet another says “approximately three pecks, dry measure” (WBC). Our problem is compounded by the fact that unless you’ve picked apples, you probably have no idea what a bushel or a peck is. Another commentator goes with “about 4 gallons” (Bible Guide), and we all know the size of those 5-gallon plastic buckets you get at the home improvement stores. So that helps.

If you were to fill one of those buckets to 80% full of grain, how much would it weigh? Probably 30 or 35 pounds. That’s a lot of product for a single gleaner in one day. “It testifies both to Ruth’s industry and to Boaz’s generosity” (NET).

How is Ruth going to get that home? She doesn’t have any plastic buckets. Does she perhaps have a woven basket? Or a shawl of some sort in which she could wrap it up?

That’s likely.

But wouldn’t that be cumbersome?

In my African travels, I’ve seen women routinely carrying such packages on their heads. Word on the street is that these women can carry up to 70% of their body weight up there. Makes my neck hurt just thinking about it.

As we’ll see next time, this one day’s work will set in motion the providential outcome of this story.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 3: Chance

April 11, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love

A woman seeking food for her family has lost her family. Her husband and both of her sons are gone forever, and she is in a strange land. She accepts the obvious conclusion: the God of Israel may be great, but He is not good. He has not been great for her. He has not kept His covenant promises. She went out full, and God has brought her back empty (Ru 1.21).

 Is she right?

 Will the covenant God let her continue in her dismay?

 The plot has begun; now it thickens.

Boaz is “a man of great wealth” (Ru 2.1). This can refer to military prowess (Gideon, Judg 6.12) or to social standing (2K 15.20). This context probably points to the latter. So Boaz is wealthy.

The Mosaic Law provides that a childless widow can expect a near relative of her late husband to “redeem” her (Dt 25.5-10). This may involve buying back property, paying off debts, or even fathering a legal heir to the late husband. Boaz is not only biologically qualified to be the redeemer, but he is logistically qualified as well.

Ruth’s “chance chanced” (“she happened to come”) to bring her to the fields of Boaz (Ru 2.3). The writer means it to be ironic. “The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord” (Pr 16:33).

“That Boaz was a godly man is stressed from the moment he is introduced in the account. When he came out from Bethlehem to inspect the harvest he greeted his reapers in the name of Yahweh. They responded in kind” (OTSS).

And the first thing this godly man does after greeting his workers is ask about the woman he doesn’t recognize. Bethlehem is a small town, and he would know its faces.

“In the ancient Near East life outside a family was impossible, and since Boaz does not recognize Ruth he is sufficiently concerned to inquire about her background. The foreman furnishes the required details, along with the fact that Ruth has requested permission to glean. The foreman himself has been keeping her under observation, and has noted the quality of her work. Even under the hot sun she takes only a brief rest interval” (ECB).

The fact that he has heard of her already signifies God’s kind providence in bringing word of her character to Boaz, and God’s preparation of Boaz’s heart to be interested in helping her. In the small village of Bethlehem, the return of Naomi, and the arrival of Ruth, would be the talk of the town; as soon as his foreman says this woman is “the Moabite woman with Naomi,” Boaz knows the backstory.

At this point Boaz knows that she is a relative, but she doesn’t.

Boaz calls Ruth “my daughter” (Ru 2.8). This implies two things. First, he is considerably older than she is; and second, he is taking responsibility for her—at least for her safety and provision while she is on his property.

The Law required landowners to allow the poor to glean the corners of their fields (Lv 19.9-10; 23.22). Apparently, charity could not be assumed; gleaners were in the practice of asking for permission (Ru 2.7). Boaz extends permission but also urges her to work alongside his female workers (Ru 2.8; apparently those binding the sheaves). This would give her access to more grain and would provide physical protection. The fields were not a safe place for impoverished women seeking food (Ru 2.22). Not in the days of the judges.

Boaz orders the male workers not to molest her. That amounts to an order that they protect her from other workers as well; it would be so understood. “Boaz is hereby instituting the first anti–sexual-harassment policy in the workplace recorded in the Bible” (Block, NAC).

So now Ruth has a place to gather food in safety. This is a huge step forward for the two impoverished women.

Could Boaz be even more helpful than this?

Stay tuned.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 2: Loyal Love

April 8, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background

Somewhere along the road, Naomi breaks her silence. She says, “Our hope is in family. My family, my hope, is in Bethlehem; yours is here in Moab. May Yahweh deal kindly with you—may he show you lovingkindness, covenant loyalty—even in the land of Chemosh! May he be loyal to you as you have been to my sons” (Ru 1.8-9)

These Moabite women will not be welcome in Israel, will they? The history of the Moabites and the Israelites has not been friendly:

  • Moab was the son produced by Lot’s incestuous relationship with his elder daughter (Ge 19.33-37);
  • The Moabite king, Balak, had refused to allow Israel to pass through his land on the way to Canaan, and had even hired Balaam to curse them (Nu 22.1-8);
  • Moabites had seduced Israel to Baal worship (Nu 25.1-3);
  • The Mosaic Law decreed that no Moabite could enter the assembly of Yahweh (Dt 23.3-4). Moses said, “You shall not seek their peace or their prosperity all your days forever” (Dt 23.6).

So Naomi, genuinely seeking the best outcome for her Moabite daughters-in-law, thinks, “Perhaps you can find another husband—you’ve been good wives (Ru 1.8)—and then you’ll be secure.”

They resist. They love Naomi, and they want to stay with her (Ru 1.10).

Her tone turns desperate. “I have no sons in my guts,” she says (Ru 1.11). (This is not the typical Hebrew word for “womb.”) “You won’t find a husband in me; God has dealt bitterly with me (Ru 1.13). Look at the emptiness of my life! God has not been good to me.”

So Orpah does the sensible thing. With Naomi’s apparent approval, Orpah returns to her people, and to her gods—back to the land of Chemosh.

But Ruth is not Orpah. She shows loyal, covenant love to her dear mother-in-law. Ruth the Moabite seeks the family of the Jewish widow, who can promise her nothing. “The reference to burial with Naomi indicates she considers herself a part of Naomi’s family and is determined to be buried in the same family tomb” (NAC).

And she seeks the Jewish widow’s God (Ru 1.16). Like the Canaanite Rahab before her, Ruth believes in the God of Israel. She even seals her covenant with the covenant name of YHWH (Ru 1.17).

“How much she knew about the implications of claiming Yahweh as one’s God we do not know. She had indeed been observing Naomi for more than a decade, but from what we have seen of [Naomi] in this chapter she hardly qualified to be a missionary of orthodox Yahwistic faith and theology” (NAC). Has Naomi given Ruth any reason to see YHWH as good and gracious?

Faith and faithfulness have always delivered Israel from judgment and brought God’s abundant provision. Will a Moabite woman’s faithfulness do the same? God has promised to bless all nations through Abraham; will He bless Abraham through the faith of a woman from another nation? And from Moab, at that?

It’s a long, steep, exhausting climb out of the Jordan Valley to Bethlehem. You and I probably wouldn’t make it. And there are robbers in the wilderness, who would not be chivalrous to two women traveling without male escort.

When she arrives—finally!—in her hometown, she sets it abuzz. Her old friends recognize her—they think—but Naomi doesn’t look like the woman who left so long ago. “Can this be Naomi?!” (Ru 1.19). She has changed significantly, and not for the better. The years of sorrow have aged her body, and they have aged her spirit.

“Look what Israel’s God has done to me. Don’t call me ‘Pleasant’ (Naomi) any more. I am a different person now” (Ru 1.21). Naomi is certain that God is great, but she’s not so sure that he is good.

But calamity does not always mean judgment. God has not forgotten Naomi. He has removed the famine; crops are growing again.

As the Master of time and seasons, Israel’s God has led Naomi back to her people in barley harvest (March/April), just as the House of Bread is to be filled with bread (Ru 1.22).

And with much, much more.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 1: Background

April 4, 2024 by Dan Olinger 4 Comments

He is a shepherd, and he lives in what is now Kuwait.

One day God speaks to him, with a bizarre demand. And a promise (Ge 12.1-3).

  • Leave your people and your country, and go to a place I will show you.
  • I will bless you—and through you, all the families of the earth will be blessed.

Abram obeys. In the land of promise—Canaan—he seeks and worships God despite his fear and his failures. God fills his tents with financial and familial prosperity. From him is born a people, named for his grandson, Israel.

And from Israel’s son Judah God promises that a king will come.

And then comes darkness. Famine drives Israel, with his family of just 70 people, into Egypt. And now slavery, and the growing nation suffers under brutal taskmasters. It’s a dark time.

But God is faithful; He provides a deliverer, Moses. Israel pillages the Egyptians, God drowns the Egyptian army, and at Sinai Israel becomes a nation, with God Himself as their king and Aaron as their priest.

But like their father Abram, Israel gives in to fear, and more darkness comes in the Sinai Wilderness. More than a million people die in 40 years of wandering in the desert. Finally trusting God, they move, conquering, into Canaan. In their first victory, at Jericho, the Canaanite Rahab, a prostitute, believing in Yahweh, God of Israel, comes to their side.

 All families of the earth, indeed.

But in their new land, there is no king in Israel, and every man does what is right in his own eyes. Thinking themselves to be wise, they become fools, even worshiping the gods of the very Canaanites that they have just defeated.

Now what? Where is the promised king? Where is the plan of God?

_____

Like all short stories, this one begins by setting the stage. We meet the characters and are introduced to the conflict that the story will resolve.

There is famine in Bethlehem, “the house of bread” (Ruth 1.1) The cupboard is bare. Famine is one of the promised judgments on unbelief (Dt 28.23-24). We don’t know if this particular famine is God’s judgment, but that’s something to consider, given the lifestyle in Israel in the days of the judges (Ruth 1.1).

From here, on a clear day, you can see the hills of Moab, just 25 miles to the east. When you’re hungry, and all the fields around you are dusty and barren, the green hills across Jordan beckon. You think you can taste the greens, and the grains, and the fatted calf. Moving makes a lot of sense.

And so—like Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob before him—Elimelech escapes famine in his hometown and seeks food outside the land of promise.

And like Jacob, he dies there. But unlike Jacob’s, his body will never go home again.

As might be expected, his sons marry women of that land. But ten years later the sons too die, prematurely. The family, seeking to escape Famine, has fallen to the clutches of a greater evil, Death.

And now we have a problem: a Jewish woman, with two Moabite daughters-in-law and no means of support through husband or sons. There is no safety net; a childless widow in the ancient Near East is in dire peril. “If she could not find a family in which to live and work she was reduced to begging, prostitution, and often death by starvation” (Harrison, ECB, 182)—“a future without hope” (Block, NAC, 629).

Apparently, God is displeased with them. At least that’s what it looks like. What’s a girl to do?

There are trading caravans traveling the major highway in the area all the time, and they bring news. There’s family in Bethlehem, and word on the street is that there’s food there too (Ru 1.6). God has acted on behalf of His people. He has not forgotten them. “The ‘house of bread’ is being restocked” (Block, NAC, 631).

If the earlier famine had come as some sort of judgment on Israel’s unbelief, there is no mention here of any repentance in Israel. This is simply grace.

And through this grace, God is telling a much more far-reaching story—one that involves not just Naomi, but all Israel—and you and me as well.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

On April Fools’ Day

April 1, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

My practice is to post here on Mondays and Thursdays. As it happens, April Fools’ Day is on a Monday this year, and I thought it might be interesting to share some thoughts on the subject.

Prankstering is a thing. Certain kinds of people really enjoy playing tricks on people, and certain others—fewer, I suspect, than the number of pranksters—genuinely enjoy having tricks played on them.

Grace and peace to them all, and may they have a delightful time on this day.

In my younger years I engaged in some of that myself. I remember attending a wedding with my mother as a college student, and some attenders wanted to do some stuff to the getaway car, so I popped the lock and let them in. I still remember the look of surprise and concern on my mom’s face at the ease with which I got access to the locked car.

In the next few years I found that my excitement and joy at playing tricks on people was diminishing, and today I can say that I haven’t done any of that for a long time.

There are lots of wedding pranks. You get access to the honeymoon suite and put the groom’s underwear in the freezer. You shave his chest. You soap the car windows, paint signs on the rear window, put a noisemaker in the exhaust pipe, tie cans to the rear bumper, fill the inside with balloons. And so grooms make a practice of hiding the car.

I recall when a friend of mine—a buddy from BJU’s judo demonstration team—got married, and the rest of us on the team decided we were going to find his car, get into it, and do nothing but tape a hundred-dollar bill to the steering wheel with a note wishing the two of them a happy honeymoon. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find the car, and he never got the hundred bucks.

Another time a former roommate called me at my GA apartment on a Friday night and asked if he could spend the night there. He was getting married the next day, and he didn’t trust what his groomsmen might do to him that night. He knew he could trust me. That opportunity, and that trust, I took as a privilege, and since then I’ve made it my desire to be the guy people could trust in similar situations.

For a few years I’d post this every April 1: “Yes, I know what day it is. No, I’m not going to lie to my friends.”

It occurs to me that that sounds pretty judgmental.

I don’t think it’s a lie to play a prank on a friend—if you know he’ll enjoy it, if it won’t be an unpleasant experience for him. Nothing wrong with good clean fun.

But not everybody finds that kind of thing, or specific instances of that kind of thing, fun. People trying to have a baby don’t find the topic humorous. Oh, you’re not really pregnant? Ha, ha, ha.

A tech newsletter I subscribe to came out this past weekend with a bunch of ideas for pranking your friends using computers. You can switch the keyboard assignments, so whenever they type an “e” it sends an “I” to their screen / file.

Ha, ha, ha.

What if your friend needs to send an important email at that moment? What if he’s got to get some work done on a tight deadline? How long will it take him to figure this thing out and fix it?

How would you feel in that situation?

Ha, ha, ha? I don’t think so.

And the larger principle of the boy who cried wolf comes to mind. I don’t want to be the kind of person that others will be inclined to distrust, because I’ve fooled them one time too many.

So I don’t do the April Fools’ thing. It’s a personal choice, a preference.

But I also don’t sit in judgment on people who get their jollies that way.

As long as we love God and love our neighbors, always seeking their good, even if at our own expense, we’ll be just fine.

Enjoy the day.

Photo by Waldemar on Unsplash

Filed Under: Culture Tagged With: April Fools' Day, holidays

Servant Song 4, Part 5: Outcome

March 28, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 4, Part 4: Sequence

March 25, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 4, Part 3: Vicarious

March 21, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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 Servant 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.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 4, Part 2: Unbelievable

March 18, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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?

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

Servant Song 4, Part 1: Irony

March 14, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Song 4, Part 2 | Song 4, Part 3 | Song 4, Part 4 | Song 4, Part 5

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, Isaiah, Old Testament, systematic theology

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