We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all [Isaiah 53:6].
Barrels of ink have been spilled in efforts to provide a specific identity for the Suffering Servant described in Isaiah 53:4-12 [the OT reading appointed for this upcoming Sunday, the Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year B]. Today, most Christians see the passage clearly as a foreshadowing of Christ. We read these verses, see that the Servant was “despised and rejected, a man of sorrow and acquainted with grief” [loose translation of Isaiah 53:3], recall the beautiful, familiar words from George Frideric Handel’s “Messiah,” and allow to ourselves and anyone within earshot, “Who else could it be?”
While I don’t want to digress too far—I’m heading in somewhat of a different direction—we do need to remember that the holy text, authored by one whom most OT scholars identify as “the Second Isaiah,” wrote this text some 600 years before Christ, and some 2,300 years before Handel. While Christians, with the benefit of hindsight, see Jesus Christ clearly in the Isaiah text, we must bear in mind that the concept of a Messiah who would spring from the powerful house of David—yet die on a cross, without fighting back—would have been foreign to those who originally heard Isaiah’s words. The original listener would not likely have equated the expected Messiah and the Suffering Servant.
Some OT scholars argue that the original listeners to this section of Isaiah would have seen Israel’s suffering while exiled in Babylon as the reference for this text. Indeed, in at least three instances within the overall Isaiah text, Israel is designated as “servant” (41:9; 44:21; 49:3). The servant described in what comes down to us as Chapter 53 would have embodied the exiles’ hope that, though they were oppressed, rejected, and scorned during their present exile, they would someday be exalted (52:13). Those in exile would likely also have hoped that their suffering might serve some larger later purpose, e.g., to “justify many” and to “bear their iniquities” (53:11).
Other OT experts see the prophet himself as the Suffering Servant. Still others see the reference in these verses to a new kind of king—a non-Israelite ruler—such as Cyrus of Persia, the emperor who conquered the Babylonians and later decreed that Israel could return to its land and rebuild its Temple.
I recognize that I’ve buried my lead somewhat here, but I think that the Church’s observation that Jesus Christ is the Suffering Servant described by Isaiah is buttressed significantly by the last clause of the verse that I included at the top of this piece. To follow my argument, however, we need to devote some thought to two matters: (a) Israel’s annual Day of Atonement, and (b) the Jewish understanding of scapegoats.
Leviticus 16:6-28 provides us with a relatively detailed view of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. I’m vastly oversimplifying here but, as you know, on the Day of Atonement, which was observed one day each year, Israel atoned for the people’s individual and collective misdeeds. Not only did they atone for their sins, through a special ceremony, they (and the Temple) became cleansed and purified from them.
As we recall, since the time the Tabernacle was originally constructed during the Wilderness experience, Yahweh “lived” with the people. Housed—so to speak—in the Arc of the Covenant, Yahweh’s presence with and among His people was like nothing experienced by any of Israel’s neighbors. Unfortunately, of course, as human beings after the Fall, the Israelites were prone to sin—individually and collectively. According to Leviticus, some sort of ontological change had to occur in order for the holy Yahweh to dwell with a people who had become unholy. The holy cannot live with the unholy. In the end, one must go.
And so, Yahweh devised the special scapegoat scenario described in Leviticus. On the Day of Atonement, two goats—flawless and as similar as possible—are presented to the priest. The priest casts lots on the goats, one for Yahweh, the other for “Azazel.” Yahweh’s goat is ritually slaughtered as the purification offering for purging the tabernacle. It is only after the first is sacrificed that the remaining goat is presented alive and acts as the scapegoat.
The priest lays hands on the second goat and explicitly declares the iniquities of the Israelites aloud. Having declared them, the priest then declares that the iniquities have been placed on the head of the goat. Then that surviving goat, upon whom “the LORD has laid the iniquity of us all” [Isaiah 53:6], is lead out into the wilderness, so as to remove the sin of the people from the presence of Yahweh. Equilibrium is restored. The people have been remade holy and they can, therefore, live and flourish within the realm of the holy. But next year, the whole process will have to be repeated: “wash, rinse, repeat.”
What is needed, of course, is a permanent solution. Yahweh desires to live with His people, but Yahweh is unreservedly holy, and the people are sinful. If only the sins of the people could be removed once and for all time. This is possible only through the action of Yahweh; humanity is powerless to effect any sort of permanent solution. The solution is Jesus Christ.
In Jesus Christ, Yahweh works a new form of Yom Kippur. Yet, as is Yahweh’s habit, the procedure is reversed. We saw that Yahweh chose not Abraham’s firstborn, Ishmael, to form the basis of a new people. Instead, he chose Isaac. With Isaac’s own offspring, Yahweh favored not the firstborn Esau, but rather the second born, Jacob. Later, when it came to choosing a king to follow Saul, Yahweh favored not Jesse’s oldest son, but rather, David, the youngest. In the spirit of “the first shall be last, and the last shall be first,” Yahweh steadfastly chooses His own will, not the sort that might be customary or preferred by humanity.
And so, with the offering of the two goats at Yom Kippur, Yahweh chooses to combine both functions into one person: Jesus Christ. In the Leviticus procedure, the first goat is sacrificed and then the second goat is banished. With Jesus, the situation is reversed. He is made to endure a false trial and then is banished to a hill outside Jerusalem proper—a hill called Golgotha. It’s an area near the city dump, a place that is ritually unclean, for on that hill criminals are killed, both Jew and Gentile. Blood is spilled there, and lives are lost there, and as we read each Good Friday, it is there on a cross that Christ becomes the scapegoat, taking onto Himself the sin of humanity.
Yahweh reverses the scenario in the Good Friday/Easter story. On Good Friday, it is the scapegoat—the sinless one upon whom all sin has been laid—who must die. It is the other goat, the sinful one that represents you and me, who was originally marked for death and destruction, who now is allowed eternal life. Indeed, through the salvific act of Jesus Christ—the scapegoat—we are not banished from Yahweh’s presence; sin is. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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