One ought not turn one’s hand to the interpretation of a great text and then declare favorite and least favorite portions of it. The worthwhile interpreter is either in or out.
Yet one may perhaps whisper his distaste quietly when a particular passage comes back around. Today, this interpreter releases a quiet sigh.
‘Who is this that comes from Edom, from Bozrah in garments stained crimson? Who is this so splendidly robed, marching in his great might?’
‘It is I, announcing vindication, mighty to save (רב להושיע).’
‘Why are your robes red, and your garments like theirs who tread the wine press?’
‘I have trodden the wine press alone, and from the peoples no one was with me; I trod them in my anger and trampled them in my wrath; their juice spattered on my garments, and stained all my robes.
For the day of vengeance was in my heart, and the year for my redeeming work (ושנת גאולי) had come.
I looked, but there was no helper; I stared, but there was no one to sustain me; so my own arm brought me victory, and my wrath sustained me.
I trampled down peoples in my anger, I crushed them in my wrath, and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth.’
Isaiah 63.1-6 (NRSV, emphasis and Hebrew text added)
This exceedingly bloody text is also oddly dialogical. YHWH parries a questioner’s queries, the first two asking him to clarify his identity and the third to explain his blood-stained clothing.
If modern and post-modern sensibilities recoil at such a depiction of a warrior god, we can at least allow him the grace of hearing out his motivation.
As consistently with matters of divine violence in the book of Isaiah—and generally in the rest of the Hebrew Bible—his fury is not unleashed upon humans for the mere satisfaction of bloodthirst. Rather, such warfare is necessary within its own rhetorical scheme for the purpose of achieving some human-facing good.
I have italicized two clauses above in order to bring out this point. In responding to his interlocutor’s two ‘Who?’ questions, YHWH describes his might as unleashed in order to save. The object of his rescue is left unspoken, but Jacob/Israel must certainly stand in as the core beneficiary (v. 1).
Then, in explaining his red garments, YHWH unleashes this justification:
For the day of vengeance was in my heart, and the year for my redeeming work (ושנת גאולי) had come.
Isaiah 63.4 (NRSV, emphasis and Hebrew text added)
The Hebrew quoted above might just as well be rendered ‘and the year of my redeemed’, a more concrete translation that brings into clearer view the human beneficiaries of YHWH’s assault upon the nations without materially changing the picture. ‘Redeeming work’ and ‘redeemed (ones)’ are both plausible.
The point I wish to make in pointing out the rescuing and redeeming purpose of YHWH’s violence is that in Isaiah divine violence is normally instrumental rather than nakedly punitive. Readers who are unable to conceive or justify purposeful violence will not be assuaged by the observation.
Others will find it possible to imagine a circumstance where resistance to YHWH’s intended shalom is so entrenched and unyielding that only removal of his opponents will allow other humans to flourish.
In either case, the trajectory of Isaiah’s vision returns time and again to violence on behalf of Zion’s redeemed, not as a major theme but certainly as an unavoidable one.