What happens when we read Isaiah 53 not through the lens of preconceived theological ideas, but let the Hebrew text speak for itself? A new perspective offers a surprising understanding of redemption that goes even deeper than the question of guilt and punishment. By Kai Mester

Reading time: 4 minutes

We’re all probably familiar with Isaiah 53, the famous prophecy about the Servant of God. Jews traditionally understand this to refer to the people of Israel, while Christians see it as referring to the historical Jesus of Nazareth, whom they regard as the Messiah.

If we now look at the text ourselves, we first encounter a figure whom probably no one would consider particularly promising: “no form or majesty that we should look at him” (verse 2). Despised, worthless, full of pain and sickness. Other possible translations would be “full of sorrow and weakness” or “full of grief and affliction.” A person to look away from.

Disgusted? Shocked? Perhaps both?

“But we regarded him as one who was afflicted, struck down by God, and tormented.” (verse 4)

Clearly, this assessment is completely wrong. For it turns out: It is not his own pain that he bears. It is ours. He has “borne” and “taken upon himself” (Hebrew: nasa‘ נשא) our pain, our grief, and our sorrow. He “carries” (Hebrew: saval סבל) our sickness, weakness, and affliction.

And then the text becomes even more shocking:

Verse 5 literally reads in Hebrew, roughly: “He was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities.” So it was not God, but we who were the cause of his suffering and disfigurement. And now comes the actual message:

“The discipline of our shalom was upon him …” one could also translate this as “it was his burden/his mission,” and through his stripes or wounds, healing came to us.”

In other words: This describes his mission. He is to bring about our healing—our shalom: peace, wholeness, integrity, well-being—and he can fulfill this mission only if he takes away and carries off our pain, our sickness, our wounds, our grief, and our sorrow. For through this we are ultimately healed and find peace.

But what is musar? The Hebrew word musar (מוסר) refers to instruction, encouragement, education, and reform—and is often translated as discipline or punishment. It involves pointing us toward the right path, correction, and motivation.

To read a violent element into this does not fit with God’s character, which Jesus revealed to us. The goal of leading us to wisdom can be achieved more effectively and efficiently through gentleness. And that was precisely the mission of this servant of God.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28–29)

He would lead us to peace with gentleness. By allowing himself to be beaten and killed by us, he held up a mirror to us that broke our hearts. His love for his enemies melted our hearts.

Just as metals are welded together, our wounded hearts were united with his wounded heart to form a bond that is indestructible:

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (Romans 8:35) “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers, neither things present nor things to come, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38)

Now the question remains as to what is meant by verse 10: “But the LORD was pleased to crush him with sickness.” If we look again at the Hebrew, we find the word chafetz (חפץ): “And the LORD took pleasure in it, found delight in it, desired his being crushed and his falling ill.”

What on earth is Isaiah trying to say here? This need not be interpreted as though God were the cause of his suffering. It can also mean that God took great pleasure in his dedication, his sacrifice, his self-offering.

For the following words say: “When he has offered his life as a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the desire of the LORD will prosper through his hand.” (Isaiah 53:10)

Perhaps this is precisely the secret of this enigmatic Servant of God: God does not take pleasure in suffering. God takes pleasure in what is accomplished through the self-sacrificing love of the Messiah.

The Servant of God walks the path of love to the very end. And from his wounding comes healing. His shalom becomes our shalom. From his death, life springs forth.

Perhaps this is the most surprising message of Isaiah 53:

We seek a God who answers violence with violence. And instead, Jesus lets us glimpse into the heart of his wounded Father. We expect the stronger one to win. And instead, we see someone who gives himself up. We look at his wounds—and there we discover our healing.

“By his wounds we are healed”

Perhaps shalom begins right there: not where there are no more wounds, but where a wound is transformed into love.

And perhaps that is exactly what Jesus wanted to show us—for our peace!