After the monumental proclamation of the Passion, perhaps the selections from Isaiah, Psalm 22, and Philippians can get lost; they are worth lingering upon to provide typological context and themes that would be more obvious in Biblically-saturated and Messianic-minded Second Temple Judaism than to us now.
There is deep irony throughout the Third Servant Song of Isaiah, particularly in the fact that in its fulfillment, the “well-trained tongue” of the Word of God Incarnate hardly speaks, except what tradition has collated as the famous so-called Seven Last Words. Each precious final utterance of Christ to us “weary” ones is indeed a “word that will rouse.” If the force of the Gospel on Palm Sunday doesn’t move us, basically nothing will.
The prophetic suffering character claims a remarkable and seemingly untenable series of claims as he is unjustly punished, almost obstinate in tone in facing his torture: “I have not rebelled, have not turned back,” “I gave my back to those who beat me,” “my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.” Boldly defiant against his mistreatment, he asserts, “I have set my face like flint.” The personalized instantiation of the standard Biblical formula “he opens my ear that I may hear” doesn’t simply indicate particularly attentive listening. Instead, it is a Semitic idiom meaning “obey.” He plainly volunteers his secret to suffering properly: it is because “The Lord God is my help.” The first movement in the working of grace belongs to God, just to open us to receiving His Will, and then to carry it out faithfully.
Finally, “I am not disgraced” and “I shall not be put to shame” are ostensibly impossible statements to defend for someone being entirely humiliated before the world, and in Christ’s gruesome case, executed with the full horror of classical Roman convention; yet He met their violence with silent strength greater than any empire’s.
The Psalmist’s dark reflection continues the theme, in an even bleaker terms: “They have pierced my hands and my feet; I can count all my bones” and “They divide my garments among them and for my vesture they cast lots.” It’s not elegiac exaggeration when it’s literally fulfilled in Christ.
He either finds his voice or preaches his glorious triumph to us more eloquently with his deeds by the end of his monologue: “I will proclaim your name to my brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will praise you.” The omitted and subsequent verses of the text shift the emphasis to us, the generations yet unborn scattered throughout the nations and even in the grave, but assembled mystically at the foot of the Cross and bowed down in adoration of the Lord. These themes will be explicated more in the Letter to the Philippians.
St. Paul’s majestic hymn again steeps us in the full paradox of the Passion. Our Redeemer “emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave.” Every ancient culture had close familiarity with the grisly reality of this abominable institution; Roman civilization was built on it, and it represented the farthest thing from deity. Christ’s sacred mortal nature is emphasized as a preparation for full revelation of His divinity after “coming in human likeness, and found human in appearance.” The natural virtues were far exceeded in a self-sacrifice of truly superior character in willingly consenting to His agony: “He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Rome carried out countless corporeal crucifixions, but ultimately only one Crucifixion of the will.
This mode of accomplishing the work of salvation proved to be unexpected by Israelites and Romans alike. “Because of this, God greatly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the Name which is above every Name,” in utter defiance of the emperor with his legions, the high priests and their hypocritical Sanhedrin, and any claimant past or future to His rightful title.
The climactic finale of the anthem directs us to that identity of His by summoning us all to worship, living and dead: “every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.” This sheer universal scope would be impossible to fathom but for His Lordship.
How stirred are we to suffer well? How abandoned to the Father’s Will? How accepting of the disdain? How confident of Easter and eternal victory? Thus the Church wisely prepares us to contemplate the redemptive suffering of the Savior.