The next stanza of the song highlights the silence of the servant, and seems appropriate for Easter Saturday – the day between Friday and Sunday.
He was oppressed and afflicted,
Isaiah 53:7-9
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.
8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was punished.
9 He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.
The servant meets his fate in silence, and is assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death – though he had done no violence nor committed any deceit. I find it nicely ironic that there seems to be an automatic association of wealth and wickedness here. It is not a universal association – but in our society of massive extremes of wealth, where we are ruled by people who have far more wealth than we can ever imagine, and who seem to treat that wealth as an excuse for avoiding rules – in that sort of a society it seems like an apt warning to me – to avoid idolising wealth and riches, and to treat them with care and generosity when we get them.
But that is a side issue from the main emphasis here I want to highlight, and that is the silence of the servant. A silence which fits with Jesus on Good Friday as he goes to the cross, and a silence which seems to fit even more with Easter Saturday. A day for silence. A day when Jesus is in the tomb. A day which seems like it will go on forever.
A day when hopes are dashed. A day when the answers have fled. A day of despair. A day of darkness. It is not even a day any longer of waiting, because there is no hope. The Lord of life lies in the grave. The who “we had hoped would redeem Israel” (say the friends on the road to Emmaus) is dead. There is nothing left, nowhere else to go.
A day when the saviour lies silent in the grave. It is a day for all who today feel that God is silent. All of us, if we are honest face such days – and some face them as days that turn into years.
And as we stand with Joseph and the women as the stone is rolled over the grave, it is a day for us to pause. To face the darkness – and to sit in the darkness. To resist the temptation to jump too quickly to the end of the story.
Perhaps, as much as for anything it is a day for Psalm 88, that prayer of darkness:
Lord, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.3 I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.6 You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
7 Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.[d]
8 You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
9 my eyes are dim with grief.I call to you, Lord, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
10 Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
11 Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction[e]?
12 Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?13 But I cry to you for help, Lord;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
14 Why, Lord, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?15 From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
16 Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
17 All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
18 You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.
Joshua's Tree Rooted 