The Way to Justice
A Commentary on the first Servant Song: Isaiah 42:1-9
I will take hold of your hand. -The Lord.
We missed an opportunity. It wasn’t the first time. It certainly won’t be the last. Before the days of Samuel the prophet, humanity had already developed the tradition of refusing God’s offer of a hand, instead pursuing justice in our own way. This bad habit continues today, even though that decision dooms us to continue wandering in the desert of injustice for another “40 years.” And yet, every generation is offered the opportunity to decide differently, to take God’s hand and seek a more just world in a different way. Will we seek justice in the same way every other generation, or are we willing to take God’s hand and a new way?
Early in the Bible’s story, after the Jewish leader Gideon triumphed over their enemy, his people tried to make him king. His refusal set the bar for faithfulness to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob:
“I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you; the Lord will rule over you.” 1
Gideon understood that God was creating a people in a unique way, a way that would bring a unique justice, a justice not brought about through human power but through trust in God to fulfill his covenant promise to Abraham. The first servant song of Isaiah reflects this purpose:
This is what God the Lord says—the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out, who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it, who gives breath to its people, and life to those who walk on it:
“I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness; I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and will make you to be a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.”2
As a result, Israel’s leaders were to be chosen by God and were to follow God’s directives. In this way, they would build a truly just society, in which each family unit in each of tribes was under the leadership of its own elders.
But a few generations later, in Samuel’s day, the Israelite people chose again to go their own way. Rather than standing out among nations with a different approach to justice, they chose the kind of ruler the other nations had, thereby choosing a justice enforced by human power.
…appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.” But when they said, “Give us a king to lead us,” this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the Lord. And the Lord told him: “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king.3
God warned them about the dramatic change a monarchy would bring. The family leadership structure would have to submit to the king. Their sons and daughters would serve him in his war plans. They would be required to work and seed the royal fields as well as their own. They would be taxed a tenth of their grain and wine, which would be given to the royal officials and attendants. And those very attendants would be chosen from among them. Perhaps worst of all, setting up their own human monarchy would put them in a direct contest with the more powerful cultures around them in a struggle for domination.
The “poetic justice” of this decision becomes clear in the history of the Jewish monarchy. Saul was the first king of Israel. That did not go well. Next came David who led well before the dysfunctional soap opera of his family threatened the entire kingdom. Solomon, David’s son, had a great start but a terrible ending, and his kingdom was split into two. In the books of Kings and Chronicles, we read the dreary history of Judah and Israel, reflecting only too well the power struggles and corruption of the other monarchies of the world. Generation after generation of leaders took their hand out of God’s hand, pursuing justice, not through faithfulness, but through power. As a result, the chosen people became blind to God, captives to a darkness from which they could not, in their own power, escape.
Yet from this morass emerged another opportunity. The covenant God had made with Abraham and his descendants would continue, not because the people were faithful, but because God was. God would send a servant to his people to save them.
Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will bring justice to the nations.4
The focus of the song is not on the identification of the servant who will bring this justice. This passage emphasizes the unique nature of the justice the servant will bring:
He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth.
In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”5
This is not a “rough justice” brought about by heroic activism, by courageous revolution, or by domination of one’s enemy. It is a justice that will protect the weak and the wounded. It is a justice which, though it may take generations to fully establish, will in fact be established. The servant will see it done.
If we are going to engage with the living word of Isaiah, we need to ask ourselves, “What do we feel when we read the first Servant Song?”
Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness, he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth.6
Does it not resurrect our experience of that primal human desire for justice that has been battered and buried beneath the bruises and wounds human life has given us? Does it not fan the flame of that inner voice of a true, fair, and lasting justice which does not justify violence and evil in its name but calls everyone to do to everyone that which is right and fair and true? The poetry of the first servant song has the power to give expression to emotions we have never found the words to say.
This Servant Song is an invitation to all who read it, at any time and in any place, to find comfort, solace, a way forward, no matter who we have cleaved to for our future, no matter what decisions we have made in regards to the Lord of all things. If we are still unsure of the invitation, it is spoken at the end of our passage:
“I am the Lord; that is my name! I will not yield my glory to another or my praise to idols. See, the former things have taken place, and new things I declare; before they spring into being I announce them to you.”7
For those of us who follow Jesus, the outlines of Christ the King spring up in our minds as we read this poem. It isn’t only his face that we see reflected in the Suffering Servant, but his peculiar approach to justice that is the theme of this song. The poem inspires us to see in its words the Lord who has patiently treated our wounds and persistently renewed our faith. In this vision, we also recognize our own calling to live as Jesus did, to relate to others as he does, and to pursue the justice which results only from a true and right relationship with God.
Everyone has the opportunity to experience the love of our Suffering Servant, especially in this season as we celebrate his birth.
Merry Christmas!
Judges 8:23.
Isaiah 42:5-7.
I Sam 8:5b-7.
Isaiah 42:1.
Isaiah 42:1-4.
Isaiah 42:1-4a
Isaiah 42:8-9.