SermonStudio

In the middle 1960s, a seminary student interned in a Lutheran
congregation in Berlin, Germany. This intern was much interested
in the history of World War II, since he was born about the time
his father was fighting in Germany. However, he soon discovered
that most of the members of that congregation did not want to
talk about the war. It was too painful. But one day, an uncle of
one of the intern's friends came to see him and shared this
personal story.1
He was an engineer on the train from Amsterdam to Auschwitz.
He was on the run that transported Jews to their death. Most of
the Jews carried in these cattle cars were old men, women and
children. (Of the six million Jews killed in the Holocaust, one
million were children!) At one of the stops on this journey, when
they cleaned some of the filth and dead bodies from the cattle
cars, the engineer was busy making his inspection of the train.
First he heard the voice, then he saw the extended hand of a
woman reaching through the boards and crying for water. She told
the engineer that her baby was sick, running a high temperature
and desperately needed some water.
The engineer was afraid. Yet, he felt compelled by the woman's
moving plea. He went to get some water. As he was about to place
the small pail of water into the outstretched

hand, he felt the stab of cold steel against his neck. He turned
ever so slowly and saw the uniform with the bayonet. And then he
heard these cold words, "If you want to give her the water, get
in the car." What seemed like an eternity, but in reality only a
few seconds, the engineer held on to the pail, then dropped it
and walked back to his engine.
That is one painful picture that is hard to erase from one's
memory. Although I heard this story many years ago, its haunting
power remains ever fresh in my mind. If I had been the engineer,
what would I have done? Or the woman with the sick baby? Or been
the person in uniform? What kind of evil forces these terrible
and tragic decisions upon us?
We are nearing the end of our journey to the cross and to
Easter. It has been suggested that the cross of Christ marks the
end of the "masquerade ball of humanity." At the cross, our masks
come off and we see behind our pretty poses and pious disguises.
To encourage us once again to "stand beneath this cross" and
contemplate its meaning for our lives, we have the mysterious,
yet comforting words of the Suffering Servant written in the book
of Isaiah.
These words too, are directed to an evil time -- to God's
people who are suffering in exile. As we have been hearing these
past weeks, it is a time of turmoil and fear. It is also a time
when physical misery is compounded by growing doubts about their
God who has not or cannot fulfill the promised blessings. The
pull and power of Babylon seems so much stronger than the God of
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
One of the significant, additional burdens of suffering for
the imprisoned people in Germany was the growing spirit of
hopelessness. In their concentration camps, there was "no light
at the end of the tunnel." For all they could see and hear,
Hitler's rule would last for 1,000 years. So also the mood and
attitude of the people of God living in exile; "I have labored in
vain, I have spent my strength for nought, and in vain."
But into this mood of helplessness and hopelessness comes the
stirring words of hope from the prophet (or prophets)

Isaiah:

Comfort, O comfort my
people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the
Lord's hand
double for all her sins. (40:1-2)

In the time of great stress and evil, the suffering ones are
reminded that God's word remains powerful and dependable. The
promises and purposes of God will not be defeated.

But you, Israel, my servant,
Jacob, whom I have chosen,
the offspring of Abraham, my
friend;
you whom I took from the ends
of the earth,
and called from its farthest
corners,
saying to you, "You are my
servant,
I have chosen you and not
cast you off";
do not fear, for I am with
you,
do not be afraid, for I am your
God;
I will strengthen you, I will help
you,
I will uphold you with my
victorious right hand. (41:8-10)

The preacher/poet moves into the despair and depression of his
people, not with a program or blueprint of a new society,

but a vivid vision of a new time, a new day. With chapter 42 we
see this vision in a new and different literary format called the
"servant songs." (42:1-4; 49:1-6; 50:4-9; 52:13--53:12) These
songs, four in number, have much in common with the rest of
Isaiah but they also contain a new and somewhat mysterious vision
of the future, focused on the anonymous servant. This mysterious
servant is described in some detail, but never clearly
identified.
The servant song with which Christians are the most familiar
is the one of our text, the fourth servant song. Though the words
may be familiar, one has the feeling we are not so comfortable
with their meaning or content. So to make both of our tasks a bit
easier, open your Bibles to this section of Isaiah and follow
along as I attempt a brief explanation.2
Note first of all the dramatic and surprise announcement at
the beginning of this song. God speaks these astonishing words:

See, my servant shall prosper;
he shall be exalted and lifted
up,
and shall be very high. (v. 13)

Here the servant seems to be identified as the people of Israel.
They are to experience a tremendous reversal in their future.
They are to be successful; looked up to; regarded as "somebody!"
That is startling news for these people living under the power
and yoke of Babylon. It is also surprising news because there is
absolutely nothing attractive about this servant of God. How can
this plant (Israel) grow into anything important, "being a root
out of dry ground." Listen to this description:

Just as there were many who
were astonished at him
-- so marred was his
appearance, beyond
human semblance,
and his form beyond that of
mortals --

so he shall startle many
nations ...
he had no form or majesty that
we should look at him,
nothing in his appearance that
we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by
others,
a man of suffering and
acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others
hide their faces
he was despised, and we held
him of no account. (52:14--53:12)

Could there be a more uprising beginning? But it was not
unlike the beginning of one called Jesus, about whom it was said,
"Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" The preacher doesn't
mince words in his description of this suffering, lonely and most
unlikely servant of God.
But then he goes on to share the most startling news of all in
these memorable words:

Surely he has borne our
infirmities
and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
struck down by God, and
afflicted.
But he was wounded for our
transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment
that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are
healed.
All we like sheep have gone
astray;
we have all turned to our own
way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all. (vv. 4-6)

The suffering servant bears the consequences of sin. Now that is
a new revelation. All faithful believers understand that sin
brings suffering. We remember how the friends of Job reminded him
of that basic teaching. But the news in this great text is that
the suffering one is suffering, not for his own sins, but because
of the sins of others and the punishment which results from them.
This suffering, due to the punishment of sin, is transferred
to the servant by God, for we are told, "he is stricken and
smitten by God." It is evil doing that is behind the suffering,
but because of God's involvement, this suffering becomes the
means of reconciliation and restoration -- "and with his stripes
we are healed."
According to this song, suffering can have a redemptive
purpose. God can use suffering for redemption and reconciliation.
Not all suffering has this positive result and there is certainly
nothing automatic about it. As we all well know, suffering can
and has produced bitterness, frustration and despair.
It is clear that in this suffering servant song, that which
gives redemptive power and meaning to suffering is the
involvement of God. Usually we identify suffering with God's
absence, but not in this song. Here the suffering one is carrying
out a purpose with which God is identified. We read this
remarkable conclusion to this song:

Yet it was the will of the Lord
to crush him with pain.
When you make his life an
offering of sin ...
because he poured out himself to
death,
and was numbered with the
transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the
transgressors. (vv. 10-12)

These concluding verses to this servant song tell us that this
servant was not just somebody in the wrong place at the wrong
time. Rather his suffering was identified with the purpose of
God. The intention here is not God punishing, but God saving. The
servant's suffering happened within the suffering of God.3
We can see now why the nation of Israel has been identified as
this "suffering servant of God." It reaffirms the fact of Israel
being called by God for a special purpose. In its tragic history,
Israel drinking the cup of suffering, becomes the way of
salvation for Jew and Gentile alike.
This interpretation has much to commend it, but it also has
some problems. Doesn't the suffering servant in our text have a
mission to the Israelites in exile? If so how can they be one and
the same? And all along we have been hearing about Israel's lack
of faith which doesn't fit with the faith of the servant in our
song.
Though the identity of the servant is not clear, his purpose
is quite clear. It was for the sickness and wrongdoing of others
that he suffered and through his suffering others received peace
and wholeness.
We also know that this great text, with all its problems and
questions, has exerted a strong influence on our Christian faith.
Later on in the Easter season, we will hear the story of Philip
interpreting this very text to the Ethiopian eunuch. The
Ethiopian wanted to know the identity of Isaiah's "suffering
servant." Philip tells him it is Jesus!
There is also strong indication that Jesus "who came not to be
served but to serve and give his life as a ransom for many,"
(Mark 10:45) was strongly influenced by this servant song text.
Jesus saw his whole life as an act of redemptive obedience to
God. Willingly he walked the path of suffering. Willingly he wore
the crown of thorns and the purple mantle. Those who looked upon
him in misery and woe might well have remembered the words of the
prophet, "There is no form or comeliness that we should desire
him."

He did not lose his life; he gave it! Here is the redeeming
sacrifice. Here is the sacrificial lamb. Here is the Good
Shepherd who did not desert his flock, even in the face of death.
This is what the cross of Christ is all about. In light of the
awful story of the Holocaust, Jesus gets into the car of
suffering with us!
In our journey to the cross we have heard many examples of the
power of sin becoming visible in the lives of faithless people:
the evil times that brought the judgment of the flood; the lies
that Abraham told; the story of the Promised Land becoming the
land of greed and injustice. Even in exile, the people of God
were seduced by the glories and wonders of Babylon, forgetting
their homeland and the God who had called them. We heard this
tragic history of evil and suffering described in these words:

All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned every one to his
own way. (v. 6).

It is our history, too!
It is the old refrain of our lives enunciated so dramatically
and emotionally by the apostle Paul, "I do not understand my own
actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I
hate ... Who will deliver me from this body of death?" (Romans
7:15-24)
But against this scary history of sin and evil stands the
steadfast love of our faithful God. Our sins are great. We have
strayed far from the way. Our garments are dirty. We may have
tried to ignore or even bury this "steadfast love" under years of
prayerlessness and neglect, under things and more things. But try
as we might, here is a love that we can't destroy. Where human
love forsakes us, this love never fails. Here is the sacrifice
for our sin.
"God has laid on him the iniquity of us all and by his stripes
we are healed."

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.4


1-Larry Trachte, now a college chaplain, was the intern who
shared this story with me.

2-Gerhard von Rad, Old Testament Theology, Volume II, (Harper and
Row, 1965), pp. 250-262. The author begins this section of study
with this succinct observation, "The Servant Songs are discussed
separately, perhaps because we cannot fully understand them."

3-Bernard W. Anderson, Understanding The Old Testament,
(Prentice-Hall, 1957), pp. 415-429.

4-"When I survey this Wondrous Cross," Lutheran Book of Worship,
(Minneapolis, Augsburg Publishing, 1978), #482.